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108 reviews for:
A Writer's Diary: Being Extracts from the Diary of Virginia Woolf
Virginia Woolf, Lyndall Gordon, Leonard Woolf
4.16 AVERAGE
108 reviews for:
A Writer's Diary: Being Extracts from the Diary of Virginia Woolf
Virginia Woolf, Lyndall Gordon, Leonard Woolf
4.16 AVERAGE
I meant to read this in small pieces, in between reading other things. But instead: I got hooked. Her relentless pursuit of writing, the tension between the fire to create and drudgery of work, her intense concentration -- it fascinates me. I'm also in awe of how hard she works, writing fiction in the morning and using afternoons and evenings to write articles and reviews. Each book seems to take more from her: finishing "The Waves" took a huge toll of her, but it was nothing in comparison to "The Years": Leonard Woolf thought working on the years would kill her.
This diary was edited by Leonard Woolf, and it contains passages that focus exclusively on her writing, her reading, and a few vivid pieces about travel, natural beauty, or moments of historical interest. I felt that the diary remained rich and compelling, although these cuts obviously give it a different tone from how it would have originally appeared. Woolf is reticent about her mental health, but living with chronic ill-health, both depression and migraine and fevers, clearly takes its toll on her. I feel that her suicide has been far too sensationalised by later writing: it was clearly the result of a huge struggle with illness: we should celebrate her achievement in living and producing work for so long. She also died in 1941, after her house in London was destroyed, and she believed invasion of England was imminent: this must have had a significant impact on her health.
I didn't expect to enjoy this book so much, or find it would remain in my thoughts for so long. If you have any interest in writing as a craft, I recommend it very highly.
This diary was edited by Leonard Woolf, and it contains passages that focus exclusively on her writing, her reading, and a few vivid pieces about travel, natural beauty, or moments of historical interest. I felt that the diary remained rich and compelling, although these cuts obviously give it a different tone from how it would have originally appeared. Woolf is reticent about her mental health, but living with chronic ill-health, both depression and migraine and fevers, clearly takes its toll on her. I feel that her suicide has been far too sensationalised by later writing: it was clearly the result of a huge struggle with illness: we should celebrate her achievement in living and producing work for so long. She also died in 1941, after her house in London was destroyed, and she believed invasion of England was imminent: this must have had a significant impact on her health.
I didn't expect to enjoy this book so much, or find it would remain in my thoughts for so long. If you have any interest in writing as a craft, I recommend it very highly.
I don't think diaries should be rated or reviewed.
It was heartbreaking to be in Virginia's company for so long and then she just...dies.
It was heartbreaking to be in Virginia's company for so long and then she just...dies.
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
I found this book very upsetting. Yes it is a fascinating document of a writer documenting, questioning, interrogating what it is to be a writer - and what it is to be a reader. But it is also a document of a self - a self that is not always happy, a self that second guesses, a self that struggles with illness and identity and, eventually, life: a self that questions what it is to BE.
The entries for 1940 in particular are heart rending: another terrible war with no end in sight, the very real possibility of invasion, destruction and death, the banality of wartime living, the constant air raids, the fear. And then it was over - and what a last sentence - but for what an awful reason.
Edited to add: Contrary to Katherine Mansfield's Journal (also published by Persephone), the editing by Leondard Woolf did not feel intrusive. He justifies his decisions in the introduction and they seem fair.
Unlike John Middleton Murray (Mansfield's husband, who edited her Journal), Leonard Woolf also had a clear purpose: to bring together all entries to do with V's thoughts on writing and reading and, thereby, to show that she was a serious writer deserving of her place in the canon. At the time her literary standing was on the ebb. The editing felt loving and truthful - which JMM's did not.
The entries for 1940 in particular are heart rending: another terrible war with no end in sight, the very real possibility of invasion, destruction and death, the banality of wartime living, the constant air raids, the fear. And then it was over - and what a last sentence - but for what an awful reason.
Edited to add: Contrary to Katherine Mansfield's Journal (also published by Persephone), the editing by Leondard Woolf did not feel intrusive. He justifies his decisions in the introduction and they seem fair.
Unlike John Middleton Murray (Mansfield's husband, who edited her Journal), Leonard Woolf also had a clear purpose: to bring together all entries to do with V's thoughts on writing and reading and, thereby, to show that she was a serious writer deserving of her place in the canon. At the time her literary standing was on the ebb. The editing felt loving and truthful - which JMM's did not.
"What a vast fertility of pleasure books hold for me! I went in and found the table laden with books. I looked in and sniffed them all. I could not resist carrying this one off and broaching it. I think I could happily live here and read forever." Everyone on Goodreads can probably identify with this.
This diary provides a fascinating and melancholy insight into Virginia Woolf's daily life. She started keeping a regular journal in 1913 when she was 33 until her death in 1941.
Her entries contain self-doubt and uncertainty of her work. Throughout her life she debates whether her stories would be rejected by critics, though her worst fears were almost always unfounded. For those who struggle with their own writing, this catalogue of thoughts on writing is invaluable. For someone so talented to have such doubts provides some comfort.
Woolf's thoughtful descriptions and stream of consciousness writing paint vivid scenes from her life. The impending doom of the war also permeated nearly every entry as WWII began. I can't imagine the stress of living through that time, with the bombings beginning in regular intervals and the destruction of two of their flats in London.
As someone who lives with bi-polar depression, there are so many moments in this book I could identify with, especially the extreme highs followed by deep lows...
"Only the thought of people suffering more than I do at all consoles; and that is an aberration of egotism, I suppose. I will now make out a time table if I can to get through these odious days."
"It occurs to me that this state, my depressed state, is the state in which most people usually are."
While there are also many highs in this collection of Woolf's life, it's the darkness, the self-doubt that makes her so relatable for me. She speaks to so much of our nature. For those who understand depression, mind burning headaches and hope amid self-doubt, this book recognizes that we are not alone.
This diary provides a fascinating and melancholy insight into Virginia Woolf's daily life. She started keeping a regular journal in 1913 when she was 33 until her death in 1941.
Her entries contain self-doubt and uncertainty of her work. Throughout her life she debates whether her stories would be rejected by critics, though her worst fears were almost always unfounded. For those who struggle with their own writing, this catalogue of thoughts on writing is invaluable. For someone so talented to have such doubts provides some comfort.
Woolf's thoughtful descriptions and stream of consciousness writing paint vivid scenes from her life. The impending doom of the war also permeated nearly every entry as WWII began. I can't imagine the stress of living through that time, with the bombings beginning in regular intervals and the destruction of two of their flats in London.
As someone who lives with bi-polar depression, there are so many moments in this book I could identify with, especially the extreme highs followed by deep lows...
"Only the thought of people suffering more than I do at all consoles; and that is an aberration of egotism, I suppose. I will now make out a time table if I can to get through these odious days."
"It occurs to me that this state, my depressed state, is the state in which most people usually are."
While there are also many highs in this collection of Woolf's life, it's the darkness, the self-doubt that makes her so relatable for me. She speaks to so much of our nature. For those who understand depression, mind burning headaches and hope amid self-doubt, this book recognizes that we are not alone.
It's like listening to a really boring person who only ever discusses the same thing over and over. Except if you were stuck in a room with them for days on end, prattling on and on about how many copies sold of each of her books and how she's a serial procrastinator.
Very hard to read the last couple of years’ entries, in which Woolf writes about WW2, knowing how her story ends. But fascinating to read Woolf’s reflections on her books as she conceives, then writes, then publishes them. Interesting that Woolf is always depressed when she finishes a book; is always convinced that she has written a load of rubbish that no one will like or appreciate; and that when the books are instead well-received she writes that in the hope that she’ll remember the pattern next time - and yet she never does.
Originally written for my newsletter The Cardigan Dispatch, tinyurl.com/cardigandispatch
My first quarantine read, A Writer’s Diary by Virginia Woolf, is probably the least-likely read for anyone on this list (it was my first time reading it in its entirety), but let me tell you that it is worth it, especially if you are despondent about not doing enough during quarantine. You know who basically napped for six months straight? Virginia Woolf! You know who else found herself completely unable to work in the face of global catastrophe? Virginia Woolf!!! My favorite quote from her diaries is “arrange whatever pieces come your way” which I am debating stick-and-poke tattooing on my body (chill, Mom, I’m only kidding).
My first quarantine read, A Writer’s Diary by Virginia Woolf, is probably the least-likely read for anyone on this list (it was my first time reading it in its entirety), but let me tell you that it is worth it, especially if you are despondent about not doing enough during quarantine. You know who basically napped for six months straight? Virginia Woolf! You know who else found herself completely unable to work in the face of global catastrophe? Virginia Woolf!!! My favorite quote from her diaries is “arrange whatever pieces come your way” which I am debating stick-and-poke tattooing on my body (chill, Mom, I’m only kidding).
This is another case of buying the book for a college class, not being assigned anything from it, and feeling like I should actually read it since I paid for it. I thought I might like it better than I liked any of her actual writing (I'm normally a sucker for journal entries or letters), but alas. I found myself being annoyed at her constant "I'm thrilled with everything/I'm so depressed; I'm ecstatic at the positive reviews/crushed by the negative reviews/I don't care about reviews a whit; I can't write/I have been writing so easily and well/what is the point of writing". I understand the emotional pull of writing but felt really frustrated by her woe-is-me attitude. Perhaps I'm not sympathetic enough to have fully appreciated this book.
26 dias na companhia de 26 anos de Virginia Woolf. O reconforto da expressão tão humanamente imperfeita, o vislumbrar quase transgressor das falhas de carácter, das impressões mais indignas, das mesquinhices mais íntimas. São raros os momentos líricos ou introspectivos (esses deixava-os ela para os romances); os diários são o retrato do que sobra: uma viagem pelas oscilações de humor, sem dúvida, pelos orgulhos e as perdas e os desesperos e tudo o que se passa no meio - mas sobretudo a delícia do quotidiano, as trivialidades despejadas para as folhas porque transbordavam dos dias: a vergonha do chiar dos sapatos ao entrar na biblioteca silenciosa depois de uma corrida à chuva.
Chorei o fim como uma perda.
Chorei o fim como uma perda.