Mrs. Dalloway
Ratings23
Average rating3.5
Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf's fourth novel, offers the reader an impression of a single June day in London in 1923. Clarissa Dalloway, the wife of a Conservative member of parliament, is preparing to give an evening party, while the shell-shocked Septimus Warren Smith hears the birds in Regent's Park chattering in Greek. There seems to be nothing, except perhaps London, to link Clarissa and Septimus. She is middle-aged and prosperous, with a sheltered happy life behind her; Smith is young, poor, and driven to hatred of himself and the whole human race. Yet both share a terror of existence, and sense the pull of death. The world of Mrs Dalloway is evoked in Woolf's famous stream of consciousness style, in a lyrical and haunting language which has made this, from its publication in 1925, one of her most popular novels.
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A book that is almost entirely description and no plot, written in a stream-of-consciousness style; in short, my ultimate snooze-fest. There were times this weekend when I felt open to description that served no purpose, to simply have a picture painted in my mind, and at these times I liked the book. The rest of the weekend I was more my normal self, wanting a story that would grab me and whisk me away, and at these times I was bored with the book. Glad to have read it in case it comes up sometime in my life, and that's about the best feeling I can muster for this book.
I'm a classics fan but I've never been particularly drawn to Virginia Woolf. I picked up a copy of Mrs. Dalloway because the cover was pretty. I hadn't the faintest idea what it was about. When the Audrey app chose this as one of their listen-alongs, I figured now was as good a time as any to read it.
Some classics are wasted on people... this one was wasted on me. I wanted to like it so much given the time it was written and the portrayals of PTSD and mental health disorders. By the time I got to this point, I was painfully bored and cared nothing about the characters. Personally, it was not a good time to read it, either.
Whether it's a matter of the wrong place, the wrong time, or the book itself, it wasn't for me. I know I'm in the minority here but even lively discussion couldn't draw me in. It only made me ask if I was really listening to the same book as everyone else.
