224 pages
English language
Published Jan. 25, 2005
This novel is an extraordinarily poignant evocation of a lost happiness that lives on in the memory. For years now the Ramsays have spent every summer in their holiday home in Scotland, and they expect these summers will go on forever.In this, her most autobiographical novel, Virginia Woolf captures the intensity of childhood longing and delight, and the shifting complexity of adult relationships. From an acute awareness of transcience, she creates an enduring work of art.
Honestly this book simply fits into a genre I didn't know I loved, but I do and oh so much. The flow of the writing as thoughts through a person's mind gave us the intimacy with a character as well as an attachment to the characters as if we were them. Absolutely loved it and looking forward to reading more of Woolf's books.
Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; die waters swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad.
No one does the stream of consciousness prose like Woolf.
Officially the worst book I've read this year so big round of applause to Woolf for ruining one week of 2015 for me. Yay!
Now....I am a man, a pretty awesome and strong and handsome man but even I got fed up with all of Woolf's comments putting down women, I've read books where they have mentioned that the lady is the weaker sex but Woolf just comes across as whiny (like I am in this review) the comments were like walking the street at 2am and coming across a drunken woman screaming at her boyfriend and trying to walk past without making eye contact... in fact I got so good at this I managed to go pages forgetting to read, so annoyingly I had to keep going back. The characters reminded me of the great Gatsby, tedious and very bland, nobody was interesting enough for me to care.
I …
Officially the worst book I've read this year so big round of applause to Woolf for ruining one week of 2015 for me. Yay!
Now....I am a man, a pretty awesome and strong and handsome man but even I got fed up with all of Woolf's comments putting down women, I've read books where they have mentioned that the lady is the weaker sex but Woolf just comes across as whiny (like I am in this review) the comments were like walking the street at 2am and coming across a drunken woman screaming at her boyfriend and trying to walk past without making eye contact... in fact I got so good at this I managed to go pages forgetting to read, so annoyingly I had to keep going back. The characters reminded me of the great Gatsby, tedious and very bland, nobody was interesting enough for me to care.
I have really tried to find a way to give this book 2 stars but when the highlight of a book is an earwig in some milk you just know there is no way that is going to happen.
So I might as well keep the rubbish books flowing and read Harry Potter next :)
My attention faltered many times with this one, but I pushed through. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, though. Ponderous, meandering novels (even brief ones like To the Lighthouse) often send me off into my own realm while my eyes or ears continue with the text. It's hard to read about Lily's internal struggle with problems of perception and how closely it resembles reality, struggle with meaning and value, without taking your own stab at the debate in your own context.
Once I got past caring about the frequent shifts in time and voice, I enjoyed flowing with Woolf, pondering the big questions.
To the Lighthouse is a book where nothing much happens, in fact the plot takes a backseat and instead Virginia Woolf focuses on a philosophical introspect. There is not much in the way of dialogue but rather uses multiple perspectives of people offering throughs and observations to make up this truly modernist piece of literature. Focusing on mainly memories and people’s emotions this book can be very dry if you don’t spend the time to look into the problems with prospective. Woolf explores the value of people’s lives, showing you that there is to someone that just their outer beauty. This book has often been described as a landmark in high modernism, while I won’t pretend to understand it fully, it was worth reading, next I might have to tackle Finnegans Wake.
