Summary
A mother tells a boy that he will be able to go to a nearby lighthouse. The father says that it is unlikely the boy will be able to go to the lighthouse because of bad weather. Ten years pass, the father finally takes the boy to the lighthouse.
Thoughts
As you can guess from the summary this is going to be one of those ‘modern’ books where nothing seems to happen. For some this will be a turn off, but if you find the endless twisting and turning of your mind during one of the thousands of mundane conversations that make up a life, then this book is for you. Similarly to Mrs. Dalloway, time and experience take on new meanings as a single day, seemingly chosen at random, is played out in intricate detail. The level of emotional data that is packed into everyday exchanges will be surprisingly to all but the most mindful. Woolf’s diaries indicate that she would spend hours listening to herself think, and the emotions that would arise as responses to external stimuli. She was able to bring this clarity to each of the characters in this book. Some take up more space than others, but with each, the reader feels like they are getting the unfiltered experience that the character themselves are having. Since Woolf is a modern writer, it is not good enough to watch someone do something, we must watch someone watching something be down. Being removed twice from anything is the price we must pay for this authentic experience. Whether the game is worth the candle will be up to each reader to decide on their own. I think it was, providing a unique way to convey emotion and setting. There are moods in this book that are difficult to find anywhere else, consider the following scene when we are briefly left without any narrator so the abandoned house itself takes up the thread:
What people had shed and left — a pair of shoes, a shooting cap, some faded skirts and coats in wardrobes — those alone kept the human shape and in the emptiness indicated how once they were filled and animated; how once hands were busy with hooks and buttons; how once the looking glass had held a face; had held a world hollowed out in which a figure turned, a hand flashed, the door opened, in came children rushing and tumbling; and went out again. Now, day after day, light turned, like a flower reflected in water, its clear image on the wall opposite. Only the shadows of the trees, flourishing in the wind, made obeisance on the wall, and for a moment darkened the pool in which light reflected itself; or birds, flying, made a soft spot flutter slowly across the bedroom floor.
Instead of making this review any longer, I will just say that this book is a gold mine of insights into the human condition if you have to the patience to not dismiss her style out of hand. I look forward to coming back and spending more time with these characters.
People/Virginia Woolf