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A review by kate_standiford
The Waves by Virginia Woolf
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
"Our friends, how seldom visited, how little known - it is true; and yet, when I meet an unknown person, and try to break off, here at this table, what I call "my life", it is not one life that I look back upon; I am not one person; I am many people; I do not altogether know who I am - Jinny, Susan, Neville, Rhoda or Louis: or how to distinguish my life from theirs."
That is the most succinct distillation available of this book by virtue of its own words. For a relatively short piece of writing, this was an absolute mountain to climb. Virginia Woolf's depression telegraphs so strongly through her writing to me that it can become bogged down and too heavy to read more than a handful of pages at a time. It's the particular perspective of description and observations she brings into the work- in this one, the stream of conscious writing, the unclear transitions between characters, and the lack of purpose behind much of it. It is a thorough commentary on the meaninglessness of small meaningful moments of life. It is poignant at times, some phrases absolutely luscious with emotional weight through the use of descriptive imagery, and much of the time self-indulgent and rambling. But again, very much an accurate commentary on the human mind and the selfishness of "I" the narrator within my own selfish existence.
Woolf has a way of capturing that bitterness of humanity in her writing without it being too sharp or judgmental. It just is an observation. Much like a naturalist observing a den of rabbits in their daily activities, Virginia Woolf's writing is a sharp observation of the banality of life and the whimsy of imagination, a longing for a more poetic and romantic view of it all.
I can't say this is a favorite read for me, but that's never true with Virginia's works. I can say, I will probably come back to this one again if only to see what parts touch on something true for me at a different time of life. One thing I observed very clearly, that again is echoed in the above quote: I never saw myself in any one of the characters, but rather a little bit of all of them.
That is the most succinct distillation available of this book by virtue of its own words. For a relatively short piece of writing, this was an absolute mountain to climb. Virginia Woolf's depression telegraphs so strongly through her writing to me that it can become bogged down and too heavy to read more than a handful of pages at a time. It's the particular perspective of description and observations she brings into the work- in this one, the stream of conscious writing, the unclear transitions between characters, and the lack of purpose behind much of it. It is a thorough commentary on the meaninglessness of small meaningful moments of life. It is poignant at times, some phrases absolutely luscious with emotional weight through the use of descriptive imagery, and much of the time self-indulgent and rambling. But again, very much an accurate commentary on the human mind and the selfishness of "I" the narrator within my own selfish existence.
Woolf has a way of capturing that bitterness of humanity in her writing without it being too sharp or judgmental. It just is an observation. Much like a naturalist observing a den of rabbits in their daily activities, Virginia Woolf's writing is a sharp observation of the banality of life and the whimsy of imagination, a longing for a more poetic and romantic view of it all.
I can't say this is a favorite read for me, but that's never true with Virginia's works. I can say, I will probably come back to this one again if only to see what parts touch on something true for me at a different time of life. One thing I observed very clearly, that again is echoed in the above quote: I never saw myself in any one of the characters, but rather a little bit of all of them.