Review: I am afraid of Virginia Woolf

I doubt myself as I read Virginia Woolf and her book To the Lighthouse.

Her writing is nothing like I expected.

It's painfully slow.

Photo by Pixabay from Pexels

The setting is the rocky coast of Scotland, a nation notorious for national pride and identity. However, Scotland's previous history and nationality plays no significant role in this tale.

Rather, the setting could be just about any other rocky coast. The point does not focus on the spatial aspect of the story - the characters interacting with the setting - but rather how they interact within the setting. That is, this is no Heart of Darkness or Tarzan.

This is important to Woolf’s style of portraying thought over action.

To the Lighthouse occurs prior to World War I - a prosperous decade set among a fading generation and the emergence of a new one. But with the coming of war, the once cozy visions of home and hearth are decayed.

It’s about a family, the Ramsey's - an older couple with eight children - who own a cottage that houses many guests:

• Lily Briscoe, an artist with "Chinese" eyes;

• Charles Tansley, an educated athiest whom nobody really likes at first;

• William Bankes, some other educated older man;

• Paul Rayley, a nice guy with a golden watch in his wash-leather bag;

• Augustus Carmichael, an older guy who seems to just hang around.

They live, in the first half of the novel, in a cozy cottage, lazily sitting within the reach of the Lighthouse's light.

And, yes, they are trying to get to the Lighthouse.

But all the men - primarily Mr. Ramsey - keep saying "no" for the weather won't permit, hinting at Woolf's subtle feminine slyness.

Eventually, their want to venture to the Lighthouse fades with the coming war. It concludes (SPOILER ALERT) when Mr. Ramsey, the patriarch; James, the youngest troubled son; and Cam, the youngest daughter, all finally reach the towering form of the Lighthouse at the end of the novel.

Reading Woolf's long sentences and long paragraphs, I find myself lost in the chant-like flow of one character's perspective switching to another's (in fact, the writing can get so monotonous that I skipped two pages and didn't realize it until I noticed the chapter number was off).

Photo by Polina Zimmerman from Pexels

Frankly, I desire more action to exist.

But, Woolf does this to communicate an idea beyond the surface of what we see--think abstract painting.

However, the details are too much at times.

For example, "Almost one might imagine them, as they entered the drawing-room questioning and wondering, toying with the flap of hanging wallpaper, asking, would it hand much longer, when would it fall?"

Seriously…wallpaper?

Here, she is showing the mortality of the Ramsey's life in the cottage. Yet, such descriptions go on and on for a whole chapter. At some point, even an avid reader loses interest.

As Woolf portrays life’s whims through thoughts, perceptions, and SO MANY details, her style remains unique and frightful. She must have been one of the keenest observers of human nature; she could actually see and not just look.

And a problem with the world's comprehension today: we rush over the details, wanting to get to the action.

I am afraid of Virginia Woolf because her writing awakened me to realize how rushed my mind thoughts are. I myself am waiting to get to the lighthouse; but, the weather of my mind is too poor for it.