WR Classics 8.21.07: It’s the Voyage Out, Not the Lighthouse, That Matters
Someone (who was it, originally? T.S. Eliot? Anne Morrow Lindbergh? Chef from South Park? help me out here, WR Classics readers!) once said “It’s the journey, not the arrival, that matters.”
For Virginia Woolf’s work, there can be no more apt epigraph: following her stream-of-consciousness is more enriching than actually reaching the sea. Woolf may not be everyone’s cup of English tea, but few dispute her canonical status as one of the foremost Modernists.
So why does that matter?
If you’ve never read Woolf (or any other Modernist), there are just a few things to keep in mind:
1. Psychological and emotional motives matter more than plot.
2. Narrative and chronology exist, but mainly as means to exploring #1 — therefore, linearity matters little.
3. The Modernist belief in the power of human beings to influence their own environments and destiny is central to Woolf’s work — and to her life and death as well (suicide might perhaps be the ultimate action a human could take to effect her own destiny).
Goodness, I’ve set myself an impossible task before breakfast (or at least before lunch, at this point). How can I possibly tell you why those things to keep in mind mean that Woolf matters? After all, I’m not an English professor, let alone a Woolf expert.
I think Virginia Woolf herself (who disdained the Modernist moniker; the only group she ever deigned to be part of was Bloomsbury) would pardon my amateur status. She was less interested in expertise than in experience, and more interested in the creative process than in the critical one.
To the Lighthouse centers on the Ramsay family and their summers on the Isle of Skye in the years between 1910 and 1920 (while the second half of the novel takes place after World War I, the entire novel, first published by Virginia and Leonard Woolf’s Hogarth Press in 1927, is colored by the Great War’s occurence).
No one ever gets to the actual lighthouse in the course of the book. That’s simple, but very important: it’s The Voyage Out, not the lighthouse, that matters. I’m referring, of course, to Woolf’s first novel, which is all about self-discovery and mythic voyage cast in a female/feminine light. (And how great is it to be able to say the lighthouse, that unapologetically priapic symbol, doesn’t matter as much? Oh, I’m a child of my Cixous/Paglia times, I am… )
If you’ve finished reading To the Lighthouse in anticipation of tomorrow’s discussion, I’d be thrilled if you’d bring up some themes/ideas here that called out to you.
-Bethanne Patrick
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I did read it, highlighter in hand and I’m afraid the ideas that came up will be stream of consciousness from me too — I was interested in all the observations about Mr. Ramsay, especially from Mr. Carmichael and Lily, especially since they seem to both evolve toward their own self actualization and successes in the end, despite how they appear early on. Charles Tansley thinks he’s a genius, Mr. Bankes thinks he peaked at 25, and Mrs. Ramsey feels protective of him, but can never tell him she loves him. I was also interested in the symbolism, if it was intentional (and I have to believe it was) of Mrs. Ramsay’s green shawl and of James’s cut outs from the catalogue. I also wondered about the reference to Mr. Carmichael and opium…oh, and early on, Mr. Ramsey’s repetition of the phrase “some one has blundered”. I have lots of questions and thoughts on this book…
Lisa, even if it’s just you and me talking about ‘To the Lighthouse’ today it will be worth it. We can share of streams of consciousness, LOL.
With Virginia Woolf, everything is intentional; that’s not simply me being flip, that’s true. She never set down a word that wasn’t meant to signify something else — it was her style, but also her metier, if that makes sense.
Mrs. Ramsays’ shawl: to me, it’s always been the garb of an true earth mother, a sign of deliberate, Martha-Stewart-esque care and beauty — but also a foreshadowing of her eventual shroud.
One of the things I loved about TTL is Woolf’s manipulation of time, and how she influenced a young Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I keep remembering that clock and it’s hourly, ominous chime, and how it was supposed to keep time (ground you to the society) through a book that constantly rebuffed our conception of time.
Not sure if that makes any sense, but when I read Moments of Being (a collection of her memoirs), she spoke of the fact that there is no difference (to her) between events in the past and present. They are all relevant. They inform one another. They rely on one another. One couldn’t possibly understand who they are without thinking back but at the same time a remembrance of things past cannot disable the future.
OK. I haven’t had my morning joe yet, however, overall, I was struck by Woolf’s fascination with time and how all her characters are affected by it (via events, memory, etc).
Cheers, f.
Ms. F., thanks for the comment/thoughts… it’s an excellent point and one I particularly care about, since it points back to the essential feminism at the core of Woolf’s work: that’s “feminism” with a lower-case “f.” If men (Paglia again!) tend towards linearity, women tends toward circularity… neither is altogether bad or good, but Woolf’s writing was one of the first and forever one of our strongest embodiments of a more female version of history.
BTW, all: the model for WR Classics is that I, your host, pop in and out all day… if you leave a comment and don’t get a response from me, I hope someone else will leave one — but rest assured, I’ll return!
I loved Time Passes and I thought it was interesting that in Part II, the style changes significantly. I found her prose beautiful in parts and the way that she chose to show and accelerate the years passing was fantastic.
Lisa, I kept wondering if that style change in Part II was entirely deliberate — or if Woolf found that without Mrs. Ramsay in the middle of things, that she couldn’t maintain the dreamy quality.
I firmly believe that every single word and choice was entirely intentional. Really, she went from all of that internal dialogue to almost no characters but the house and the lighthouse…maybe?
This was the first book I’ve read by Virgina Woolf, and I’m glad that the WR Classics is here. It gives me an opportunity to read books I’ve always wanted to in a book club that provides me discipline but flexibility. I’m no English prof, either, and have always felt a bit intimidated discussing classics.
That being said, this was not an easy book for me to read. It took me a good hundred pages to hook into, and I continually felt lost in the first half with the large cast of characters, often having to flip back to see who was who (all those children!).
But I was largely impressed by Woolf, her insights, her long, long sentences, the use of metaphor and simile in such a persistent way. Stylistically, she’s a genius. What I loved most was her characters, how full they were, I seemed to feel adoration and disdain, compassion and disappointment for each one.
On a personal level, it was everything I loved about reading: I could get into their heads. We are all neurotic, I thought triumphantly, and felt normal. I agree that the story, and the process of reading it, is a journey. All in all, I found it a challenging, worthwhile read, and a wonderful pick. I won’t be so hesistant to dive into Woolf again.
Sure, I’ve still got questions about what happened in parts of the book, but I’m not too worried about it (as someone mentioned the blundered quote by Mr. Ramsey). I figure this will be a book I’ll consider long after I’ve finished it.
Hi Alicia, so glad you joined us… and I know we’re all looking forward to Jennifer’s discussion in September and more books, and more books… whether you’ve read the book before or are reading it for the umpteenth time, WR Classics will have something to offer (I hope!). You wrote “All in all, I found it a challenging, worthwhile read, and a wonderful pick. I won’t be so hesistant to dive into Woolf again,” I was thrilled. That’s why I want to be here.
I’m going to come back a bit later this a.m. with some more comments, as well as a few books about Woolf and her Bloomsbury circle to recommend.
Bethanne,
You are such a star!! Thanks!!!
I’m excited to see this spot grow in the coming months.
Cheers, Felicia