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Os Anos Segundo Volume Da Colec O Obras Liter Rias Escolhidas Inaugurada A De Setembro Com Tr Pico De C Ncer, De Henry Miller, Revisita Mais Uma Autora Cl Ssica Virginia Woolf Naquele Que O Seu Livro Mais Vendido De Todos Os Tempos Com Tradu O De Fernanda Pinto Rodrigues, Tradutora Premiada Com O Pr Mio De Tradu O Da Sociedade De L Ngua Portuguesa, Pr Mio Da Associa O Portuguesa De Tradutores E Finalista Do Pr Mio Europeu De Tradu O, Os Anos Conhecem Agora Uma Nova Edi O Ap S A Ltima Publica O Em Portugal Ter Sido Realizada Em Pen Ltimo Livro De Virginia Woolf Antes De Se Suicidar Em Mar O De , Tra A A Vida De Tr S Gera Es Da Fam Lia Pargiter Desde At D Cada De Do S Culo XX Com A Passagem Do Tempo, A Fam Lia Vai Sendo Esmagada Pela Press O Da Guerra, Pelas Restri Es Sociais Do Patriarcado, Do Capitalismo E Do Imp Rio, E Pela Amea A Crescente Do Fascismo Diferentes Gera Es Confrontam Se E H Um Sentimento De Esperan A Contr Rio Opress O Da Poca Vitoriana Os Anos Marcam Assim A Carreira De Virginia Woolf Como A Obra Que A Celebrizou


10 thoughts on “Os Anos

  1. says:

    611 The Years, Virginia WoolfThe Years is a 1937 novel by Virginia Woolf, the last she published in her lifetime The complexity of the writing style of Virginia Woolf puts the reader in a barrage that, even at the end of his stories, does not leave the readers The Years is story of boys, girls, father, mother, uncle, grandfather, cousins, daughters, servants and a family It traces the history of the genteel Pargiter family from the 1880s to the present day of the mid 1930s At the beginn 611 The Years, Virginia WoolfThe Years is a 1937 novel by Virginia Woolf, the last she published in her lifetime The complexity of the writing style of Virginia Woolf puts the reader in a barrage that, even at the end of his stories, does not leave the readers The Years is story of boys, girls, father, mother, uncle, grandfather, cousins, daughters, servants and a family It traces the history of the genteel Pargiter family from the 1880s to the present day of the mid 1930s At the beginning of each section, and sometimes as a transition within sections, Woolf describes the changing weather all over Britain, taking in both London and countryside as if in a bird s eye view before focusing in on her characters Although these descriptions move across the whole of England in single paragraphs, Woolf only rarely and briefly broadens her view to the world outside Britain 2007 1377 568 9646174604 1385 1394 504 9789643746230 20


  2. says:

    May 2nd 2015The Years is Virginia Woolf s ninth novel, and since it is composed of a series of vignettes about the Pargiter family covering a fifty year period, it is tempting to review it as if it were an old photograph album, one of those with layers of tissue to protect the images As we slide the delicate paper aside, each image gradually assembles itself 1880 A family group The bewhiskered patriarch is squarely camped on the only chair, one elbow propped against a little table on which si May 2nd 2015The Years is Virginia Woolf s ninth novel, and since it is composed of a series of vignettes about the Pargiter family covering a fifty year period, it is tempting to review it as if it were an old photograph album, one of those with layers of tissue to protect the images As we slide the delicate paper aside, each image gradually assembles itself 1880 A family group The bewhiskered patriarch is squarely camped on the only chair, one elbow propped against a little table on which sits an elaborate china teapot His grown and semi grown children are massed about him He looks as if he has just finished speaking The others look like they haven t yet begun The mother is missing from the picture.Next page 1891 This time the image is of a London trolleybus , the kind that ran on tram tracks and were pulled by horses There s a woman sitting on the upper deck She looks uncomfortable travelling shoulder to shoulder with strangers but she needs to get to her workplace She also looks like she doesn t speak about her work to many people, least of all to her father when she diligently returns home every afternoon at five o clock to serve his tea.1907 In the centre of the photograph a woman pours tea for her daughter The daughter stares at her mother pouring tea as if she is imagining the scene as a painting Another daughter sits in a window seat holding a book and a pen in her hands, staring into the distance She looks like she may be thinking about writing.1908 An old man is lying in a bathchair, covered in a blanket On a table beside him is a tea pot and some newspaper cuttings, one a photograph of a woman with a brick in her hand, another an obituary for the King.1911 A group of women taking tea on a terrace One of them is brown from the sun She s been travelling on her own in Spain and Italy There is an owl in the background.1913 An elderly woman pours tea for herself in a little room on the top floor of a lodging house in Wandsworth using the old china tea pot she saved from the house at St John s Wood where she worked all her life.1914 Some people sitting in a caf and, yes, you ve guessed it, they are drinking tea actually I can t do this any This review is turning into a farce and Virginia Woolf s book doesn t deserve that treatment May 8th 2015 The Years has been the hardest of Woolf s novels for me to get through and it has also been a challenge to write about, such a challenge in fact that I ve been forced to do something I rarely do before writing a review read up on the writer s life to help me understand her work I bought A Writer s Diary a few days ago, and started it in the middle 1932 the year Woolf began The Years Here s an entry from the autumn of 1932 I have entirely remodelled my Essay It s to be called The Pargiters The Years and to take in everything, sex, education, life etc and come, with the most powerful agile leaps, like a chamois, across precipices from 1880 to here and now Everything is running of its own accord into the stream, as with Orlando What has happened of course is that after abstaining from the novel of fact all these years since Night and Day in 1919 I find myself infinitely delighting in facts for a change, and in possession of quantities beyond counting though I feel now and then the tug to vision, but resist it This is the true line, I am sure, after The Waves this is what leads naturally on to the next stage the Essay novel.The Essay she is talking about at the beginning of that quote is Professions for Women published in 1931, which was the inspiration for both The Years and Three Guineas, the Essay novel she spoke of at the end As we can see, she had great plans for The Years and wrote nearly two hundred thousand words very quickly In 1933, she wrote in her diary I visualise this book now as a series of uneven time sequences a series of great balloons, linked by straight passages of narrative I can take liberties with the representational form which I didn t dare when I wrote Night and Day.She began editing that enormous mass of words soon afterwards but the process took years during which she lurched between loving and hating every scene she had written It appears that she reduced the body of the novel quite a bit during the rewrites, although it is still one of her longest She removed many of the themes that would have been of interest to us today, the sex, education, life themes which she had spoken of with such enthusiasm at the beginning The result is a series of beautifully written vignettes, but without a strong underlying theme to knit them together that s why my initial attempt to review this book failed I couldn t find a common thread and was left with nothing butan elaborate teapot view spoiler hide spoiler To the Lighthouse was the first of Woolf s novels I read and I remember feeling that there wasbeauty than realism in the text In The Years, she set out to write a book full of realism, full of facts , but she seemed to become uncomfortable with so much fact and the book had to fall back on vision , on poetic flights, on beautiful images The facts mostly seem to have been in the material Woolf cut from this book and we are left to wonder why The diary gives accounts of her fragile state of health during this time which may have caused her nerves to fail at the thought of the sniping of her many critics All books now seem to me to be surrounded by a circle of invisible censors, she noted around this time She had grownandfearful of reading negative criticism, leading as it did to days and weeks of depression, of inability to write The five long years which Woolf spent struggling with the manuscript of this book were sad ones, difficult ones, years during which she constantly doubted her own talent But what is really sad for us today is that the doubts she experienced led to the removal of such a quantity of exciting material from The Years, a project that should have been the high point of her entire novel writing career .For Proust enthusiasts may contain spoilers view spoiler The Years covers a similar period to Proust s la recherche du temps perdu His work explored a fity year period, from the 1870s the early Swann Odette sections up until the 1920s In both works, the action, if it can be called action, revolves around privileged people often seen in drawing room settings There is a character in The Years, Lady Lasswade, who bears a remarkable resemblance to the Comtesse de Guermantes we even see her in her opera box at one point Another character is described making a phonecall for the first time, later seeing an aeroplane rising above rooftops, also a first There is an uneasy relationship with a faithful family servant who is retired off when the family have no need of her Taboo subjects such as anti semitism and homosexuality are skirted around rather than addressed directly The biggest resemblance however is the ending Proust closes his Recherche with an evening party at which many of the principle characters are seen and where their destinies are finally revealed with many surprises, and the effects of age and time passing are examined The Years also ends with an evening party at which all the principle characters gather We find out what they have all become there are also some surprises and Woolf writes some fine paragraphs on ageing I also noted a comparison between how these two writers gathered their material Proust was well known for picking up inspiration for his Recherche at his friends soir es Woolf did the same thing Around the time she realised that she shouldn t add anyscenes to The Years but should be preparing it for printing, she wrote in her diary If I go to Edith Sitwell s cocktail this evening I shall only pick up some exacerbating picture I shall froth myself into sparkles and there ll be the whole smoothing and freshening to begin again.She spent so much time smoothing and freshening the manuscript that she grew entirely sick of it Near the end she wrote I wonder if anyone has ever suffered so much from a book as I have from The Years.Actually, I think Proust probably sufferedhide spoiler In Professions for Women , Woolf argued for the killing of of the Angel in the House figure, the self sacrificing mother who perpetuates the idea that a woman s role is simply to be decorative and charming In The Years , the mother figure dies at the beginning


  3. says:

    The Years is a mature novel but also a hybrid work straddling a family saga and a collection of robbed moments that would have vanished into the river of time hadn t it been for Woolf s brilliant descriptive skills Capable of capturing the elusiveness of an atmosphere, of words left unsaid, of a particular landscape in any season, of the details that dress a room or the people that come in and go out of it scarcely leaving any trace, Woolf manages to give human quality to the passage of time, The Years is a mature novel but also a hybrid work straddling a family saga and a collection of robbed moments that would have vanished into the river of time hadn t it been for Woolf s brilliant descriptive skills Capable of capturing the elusiveness of an atmosphere, of words left unsaid, of a particular landscape in any season, of the details that dress a room or the people that come in and go out of it scarcely leaving any trace, Woolf manages to give human quality to the passage of time, the real protagonist of this story.It s true that she uses the Pargiter, a bourgeois family in extinction at the beginning of the twentieth century, to flesh out something as ungraspable as the passage of time We get to know the Pargiters in their childhood days and observe, in fragmentary manner, the evolution of their personalities as they grow up and become active actors in their lives Oddly enough, the cumulative changes they suffer only strengthen their innate characters, boosting their childhood traits As usual in Woolf s novels, London appears as a backdrop to the Pargiters doings, materializing the transformation of the city and its society over the years The end of the Victorian era, WWI, the British colonies, women s causes or politics are addressed tangentially it s the alternating cycle of rebirth and decline of the main protagonists and their descendants that centers the focus of the storyline Despite the lyrical harmony of Woolf s subtle prose, this has been a tough novel to get through There is a certain detachment between the characters as years go by, and the style of the narrative evolves from an initial delightful family portrait to an oblique semi essay on the generational gap that is most evident in the last section of the novel titled present time , which takes place in a party reminiscent of Proust s long winded chronicles of the social soirees he loved and despised at once What I will mostly remember of this novel is the atmospheric openings of each section and Woolf s pristine, heart lifting passages that provide eternal quality to the ephemeral existence of the passersby who walk in the pathways of unstoppable time


  4. says:

    I will not call the early going a slog, but the novel did fail to engage me until page 140 or so After that, all was well The novel took off as a proper Virginia Woolf novel should By the end of the long party scene which closes the book I was familiarly dazzled I have to admit that I find the content almost unsummarizable There s no plot to speak of It s the technique that astonishes Woolf s concern is not the quotidian, and often not the particular, but the structural There are any num I will not call the early going a slog, but the novel did fail to engage me until page 140 or so After that, all was well The novel took off as a proper Virginia Woolf novel should By the end of the long party scene which closes the book I was familiarly dazzled I have to admit that I find the content almost unsummarizable There s no plot to speak of It s the technique that astonishes Woolf s concern is not the quotidian, and often not the particular, but the structural There are any number of exchanges between characters, sometimes arguments, in which the reader has no idea of the issues involved Woolf deliberately takes the emphasis off the particular here and this somehow pulls the characterizations into the foregroundstrongly I m not sure how she does it It s impressive She uses the technique throughout As for the timeline, it seems almost capricious Here are the years which form the chapter heads 1880, 1891, 1907, 1908, 1910, 1911, 1913, 1914, 1917, 1918 and Present Day As with a bildungsroman, Woolf s interest is in the developmental arc over time The overwhelming feature of the novel is the sense of the result of experience But unlike the bildungsroman there is no movement toward a set goal, life being thinly plotted Neither is there a single central character but rather an ensemble effect Much takes place offstage births and deaths and weddings and childbirth Woolf s concern is with the interstitial moments, when the effect of time, certainly Proustian time though not flashbacks so much as flash forwards has its collective impact This novel is certainly a candidate for rereading, so enigmatic are its means of advancing the narrative Highly recommended


  5. says:

    Slowly wheeling, like the rays of a searchlight, the days, the weeks, the years passed one after another across the skyThis novel is tricky on the surface there is a series of mundane events dinners, tea, walks in the park and seemingly no plot But there isto meet the eye than that yielded by a superficial glance or reading.The 3 generation saga of the Pargiter family commences in 1880 and finishes in the present The then present we are told in the Notes must be betweenSlowly wheeling, like the rays of a searchlight, the days, the weeks, the years passed one after another across the skyThis novel is tricky on the surface there is a series of mundane events dinners, tea, walks in the park and seemingly no plot But there isto meet the eye than that yielded by a superficial glance or reading.The 3 generation saga of the Pargiter family commences in 1880 and finishes in the present The then present we are told in the Notes must be between 1931 and 1933 There is no story as such, but we encounter various members of the family at intervals doing what they generally seem to do eat, drink, talk, walk in the park, etc They repeat old habits Sara who always seems scattered anyway repeatedly looks the wrong way when someone points out something or someoneWhere said Sara But she looked in the wrong directionThe reader, as an unseen guest at their dinner parties or other events, listens in to snippets of various conversations by these people, and from that deduces that this one has died or that one is now married and has x number of children There is no detailed telling of their individual stories To me this novel resembles an Impressionist painting there are dappled glimpses of the individuals, but no strong outline is given The reader does not really get to know any of the characters Someone in the novel suggests that as we don t truly know ourselves, how can we know others There is a beautiful description of two of these people walking in the park in dappled sunlightShe too was netted with floating lights from between the leaves A primal innocence seemed to brood over the scene The birds made a fitful sweet chirping in the branches the roar of London encircled the open space in a ring of distant but complete sound The pink and white chestnut blossoms rode up and down as the branches moved in the breeze The sun dappling the leaves gave everything a curious look of insubstantiality as if it were broken into separate points of light He too, himself, seemed dispersed His mind for a moment was a blank , and I thought yes, that s it, that is how I see all of these people.The years go by and not much seems to happen or change, and yet members of the older generation die, the younger people mature and have their own families as well as their personal dramas which are only obliquely alluded to But whilst it seems that not much is happening or changing they are still eating, drinking, walking, talking , the world is changing dramatically and many major events take place We see how these events and changes affect these individuals in some way, whether they play an active part in it or whether they are simply reading it in a newspaper or discussing it at a dinner party or over breakfast kippersPaper boys were crying, Parnell Parnell He s dead, she said to herself, still conscious of the two worlds one flowing in wide sweeps overhead, the other tip tapping circumscribed upon the pavementWe observe some of their thoughts and reactions One of these characters, Eleanor, gives us some glimpses of how she perceives the passing years and what some of her thoughts about old age are Someone mentions the first time she saw an aeroplane, another has a new car There are references to the Suffragettes, the Ulster crisis, WWI, women finally getting the vote, etc At home there are also changes Towards the end of the book there is a large party, but guests are no longer formally announced at the door, there are no servants, some people sit on the floor with plates of food instead of being served at tableAll sorts of people were there, she noted That had always been her aim to mix people to do away with the absurd conventions of English life And she had done it tonight, she thought There were nobles and commoners people dressed and people not dressed people drinking out of mugs, and people waiting with their soup getting cold for a spoon to be brought to themSometimes they ponder the past, and on one occasion someone wonders if one day one would be able to see the person to whom one is speaking when making a telephone call yes, indeed So everything but nothing changes as the years go byDo not be put off by the seemingly disjointed first half of the novel, as it all comes together in the second half If I were to rate the novel based on the first half, I should give it 3 stars Based on the second half I should give it 5 stars So, let s settle for four Parnell was an Irish politicianI wish I hadn t quarrelled so much with my mother, she thought, overcome with a sudden sense of the passage of time and its tragedy Then the music changed Things can t go on for ever, she thought Things pass, things change, she thought, looking up at the ceiling And where are we going Where Where Why she asked herself, looking at the lovely face, empty of meaning, or character, like a page on which nothing has been written but youth Everything shook slightly There was a perpetual faint vibration She seemed to be passing from one world to another this was the moment of transition A blank intervened her thoughts became spaced they became muddled Past and present became jumbled together Another door had been opened Old age must have endless avenues, stretching away and away down its darkness, she supposed, and now one door opened and then another How nice it is, she said, not to be young How nice not to mind what people think Now one can live as one likes, she added, now that one s seventy


  6. says:

    That is true, Rose thought as she took her pudding That is myself Again she had the odd feeling being two people at the same time.It has been months since I read The Years There have been many books in my life Light bulbs switched on and off over my head They glow and brightness hot to the touch I don t know how long they ll last but they often come back when I had been trying too hard to get inside other windows Hey, you forgot about it and left all of the lights on This next part might That is true, Rose thought as she took her pudding That is myself Again she had the odd feeling being two people at the same time.It has been months since I read The Years There have been many books in my life Light bulbs switched on and off over my head They glow and brightness hot to the touch I don t know how long they ll last but they often come back when I had been trying too hard to get inside other windows Hey, you forgot about it and left all of the lights on This next part might sound like a backhanded compliment In my little book loving heart that could it does not feel like a backhanded compliment I started to forget about The Pargiters when I was still reading about them There were men and their faces look like dream faces If you try to look at them up close you don t see anything I didn t care about the end or what happened to them You could sweep everyone out onto lit up streets in the safety of lit up faces for all I could care I was already in the other room with the lights left on When I was reading The Years I had a mental conversation going with myself about how I would explain my apathy about how it all turned out and be believed that they and the book had meant something to me I could have stopped reading it and never found out what happened What really happens, anyway People die and the next day and what s left is the other stuff that I m going to think about anyway You want your supper, do you said Maggie She went into the kitchen and came back with a saucer of milk There, poor puss, she said, putting the saucer down on the floor She stood watching the cat lap up its milk, mouthful by mouthful then it stretched itself out again with extraordinary grace.What followed this has come back to bite me, to sting me, to warm me and confuse me When I wasn t trying to hold it I almost had why I had not felt such acute envy It was this next part Sara, standing at a little distance, watched her Then she imitated her There, poor puss, there, poor puss, she repeated As you rock the cradle, Maggie, she added Maggie raised her arms as if to ward off some implacable destiny then let them fall Sara smiled as she watched her then tears brimmed, fell and ran slowly down her cheeks But as she put up her hand to wipe them there was a sound of knocking somebody was hammering on the door of the next house The hammering stopped Then it began again hammer, hammer, hammer.They listened.It s that Sara imitates her This much I know When reading some other books these days that made me feel the loss of I don t know what I wondered if it was that security that I knew they had people who loved them a soul mate Another part of me to have faith in H.D had an idea I wanted to run away with as my own to have the dog of your own in HERmione I wanted that dog but make it a mental Mariel dog and it would be as if you could feel your own soul But I m not jealous of Maggie it is something about how Sara measures where Maggie fits and it is her measuring that makes it so Someone loves you I don t want to say it is altogether that because it isn t It would also ruin it I like to think about this scene in The Years I ll be some place I shouldn t be seen having entire other worlds going on in my head surely I look off I wish I could make the gesture, to feed the kitten and be in the warm kitchen and some place safe.Maggie must have been some kind of great hope for the Pargiters When she s a baby there is a deal made about purchasing her a necklace Eleanor must pick it out The Colonel will pay for it See to it that it is done This special important Pargiter baby must have the necklace If they were in a garden their plants would turn to her as if she was the sun Maybe they all reenacted the future kitchen scene through things before there was a hungry kitten to be fed in place of the warm family of her own in the future The safety of her assured warm place in their hearts turned me to her cousins and sister who must make their own, when they can, when they are lucky Before there was a who we want to be in young Pargiter flesh there was an angry young woman who secretly wishes that her mother would just die already I could hear her angry heart beating in her chest Stop beating, stop bleeding, just die Before anyone could learn all of the details, before conditions were right I could hear Rose with her lights left on memory Intense, willed alone With a knife in her hand she cuts a gash, thin and white still, into her wrist What made her do such a thing When she meets another of her own kind When she finally feels she can talk to another she doesn t choose one of her own kind She tries to wish on Maggie My eyes could follow her into the never ending conversation The kind where you repeated yourself and said something stupid When you are not you that you know because you didn t find another of your own kind after all You found someone who doesn t have to build My eyes could follow them into all of the rooms they ever go into and see that she doesn t see Eleanor and she doesn t see Sara I feel lonely when the men talk a lot and know what people are thinking When they know what each other are thinking When Eleanor wonders what made Rose do such a thing as to cut herself I had the feeling that she didn t know what else to do She will remember that forever and I know that Sometimes I find Rose again in my mind too She would be felt hot on the other side of concrete of me Intense memories of not knowing what else to do with not belonging When you don t feel like yourself When you don t feel real Eleanor sits somewhere off to the side, in a half light Sara must be looking out the window I know she will be happy some day but I want her to look out the window because I don t feel like me when it is assurance and the great hope I want to look at their faces and see faces when they get up close because they haven t walked off too far in The Years I like to think about that kind of stuff I don t want to be Delia and wanting her mother to die already and let the living people live I just want to feel that knowing that Sara had that people could That s probably going to be my The Years for my days The longing feeling about people I don t really know because they aren t real but they seemed real because they had feelings I ve had about wishing stuff was real This isn t the review I wanted to write back then I was happy when I went on goodreads and found reviews from Elizabeth, Sam and William They all like The Years and mentally I hugged and high five all around Others dismissed the book as something unspecial because it isn t The Waves or To the Lighthouse To that I say that the specialness was not only breathing in daring tattoo permanence I wish the disappointed or scornful The Years faces could see what I see that Woolf used paints on the inside, behind the eyes Right where you go to cry or something Something like that Something intense like a memory you turned into that something intense To me that is special to capture that To capture it because you didn t hold it You let the light come on afterwards by knowing what you held onto about how you feel about your family Does everything then come over again a little differently she thought If so, is there a pattern a theme, recurring, like music half remembered, half forseen a gigantic pattern, momentarily perceptible The thought gave her extreme pleasure that there was a pattern But who makes it Who thinks it Her mind slipped She could not finish her thought


  7. says:

    Other reviews tell me that this isn t as good as Mrs Dalloway or To The Lighthouse having read all three books now, I will concede the Mrs Dalloway point, but I think I liked The Years better than To the Lighthouse The two stories are similar, in that they deal with an extended family and the perspective switches from person to person and the closest you get to an action scene is everyone sitting around and talking, but the scope of The Years is much wider it deals with several generations o Other reviews tell me that this isn t as good as Mrs Dalloway or To The Lighthouse having read all three books now, I will concede the Mrs Dalloway point, but I think I liked The Years better than To the Lighthouse The two stories are similar, in that they deal with an extended family and the perspective switches from person to person and the closest you get to an action scene is everyone sitting around and talking, but the scope of The Years is much wider it deals with several generations of a family and spans decades, rather than a couple years and seemed, at least to me, to be slightly easier to follow than To the Lighthouse I would definitely have better luck explaining the plot of this book to someone who had never read it But that s not what I wanted to talk about, and not what you came here to see The reason I write Woolf book reviews isn t to write a critique of the books because who am I to analyze Woolf but to quote the everloving bejeezus out of whatever I just read, because no one isequipped to demonstrate the greatness of Virginia Woolf than Woolf herself Reading this book made me realize yet another reason I love Woolf s writing the scope of her writing is immense She draws back and describes entire cities from a deity like distance, seen here when she shows us England in the snow Snow was falling snow had fallen all day The sky spread like a grey goose s wing from which feathers were falling all over England The sky was nothing but a flurry of falling flakes Lanes were levelled hollows filled the snow clogged the streams, obscured windows, and lay wedged against doors There was a faint murmur in the air, a slight crepitation, as if the air itself were turning to snow otherwise all was silent, save when a sheep coughed, snow flopped from a branch, or slipped in an avalanche down some roof in London Now and again a shaft of light spread slowly across the sky as a car drove through the muffled roads But as the night wore on, snow covered the wheel ruts softened to nothingness the marks of the traffic, and coated monuments, palaces and statues with a thick vestment of snow and then she zooms in a little bit, like this perfect description of the crowd at an opera The orchestra was still tuning up the players were laughing, talking and turning round in their seats as they fiddled busily with their instruments She stood looking down at the stalls The floor of the house was in a state of great agitation People were passing to their seats they were sitting down and getting up again they were taking off their cloaks and signalling to friends They were like birds settling on a field In the boxes white figures were appearing here and there white arms rested on the ledges of boxes white shirt fronts shone beside them The whole house glowed red, gold, cream colored, and smelt of clothes and flowers, and echoed with the squeaks and trills of the instruments and with the buzz and hum of voices Lights winked on ladies arms as they turned ripples of light flashed, stopped, and then flashed the opposite way as they turned their heads and then she goes closer, looking at objects on an almost microscopic level, until we share her fascination with ordinary objects and people But what vast gaps there were, what blank spaces, she thought, leaning back in her chair, in her knowledge How little she knew about anything Take this cup, for instance she held it out in front of her What was it made of Atoms And what were atoms, and how did they stick together The smooth hard surface of the china with its red flowers seemed to her for a second a marvelous mystery That s why I love Virginia Woolf she can look at a snowstorm in a city, and a single china cup, and study both of them with the same level of interest and detail, and make both subjects seem new and fascinating Now if you ll excuse me, I have to go stare at my dishes and think about my life for a while


  8. says:

    Everybody was like this is really conventional Woolf, and I was like, Really I mean, is she every really conventional and people were like, Dood, this is nowhere near as good as To the Lighthouse or The Waves, so don t get your hopes up, and I was like, Well I haven t read The Waves, and people were like, What Dood You never read The Waves I m not sure we can have this conversation, and I was like, Oh man, I d better read The Waves, but first I have to read The Years for class, yo Everybody was like this is really conventional Woolf, and I was like, Really I mean, is she every really conventional and people were like, Dood, this is nowhere near as good as To the Lighthouse or The Waves, so don t get your hopes up, and I was like, Well I haven t read The Waves, and people were like, What Dood You never read The Waves I m not sure we can have this conversation, and I was like, Oh man, I d better read The Waves, but first I have to read The Years for class, you know, and people were like, sure, okay, but when you re done you better go read The Waves, because even Leonard Woolf knew The Years was kind of a let down, even though it sold a lot, and I was like, okay, I ll keep it in mind, and then I went home and read The Years and you know what FUCK THE HATERZ, THIS BOOK RULEZ.Look people can we just get over the idea that long, loose sentences and experiments with viewpoint and narrative structure are somehow hierarchically better than short, pointillist sentences and a complex but fundamentally straightforward approach to viewpoint Because the use of the close variable third person in this book is just gangbusters Also the inexorable crush of time can we convey it Well, as far as we can convey it, I think this book just did Oh snap


  9. says:

    4.25 5I m in love


  10. says:

    But you may ask why The Years and not Mrs Dalloway first I don t know I think it was a fortunate to find it in my local library and by reading a few pages of it, I realized that I must read it first Did you know that I tried to read Mrs Dalloway forthan 3 times, and even once I read almost half of the book, but I failed to finish it I was losing my hope I thought Woolf is not my type Reading A room of one s own opened my eyes to many things That Virginia Woolf mainly concentrates But you may ask why The Years and not Mrs Dalloway first I don t know I think it was a fortunate to find it in my local library and by reading a few pages of it, I realized that I must read it first Did you know that I tried to read Mrs Dalloway forthan 3 times, and even once I read almost half of the book, but I failed to finish it I was losing my hope I thought Woolf is not my type Reading A room of one s own opened my eyes to many things That Virginia Woolf mainly concentrates on what kinds of things around us Let me think It is a book on women, writing and novels but you see she s describing a cat without a tail in the yard of Oxford University Amazing huh And then she compares herself with that cat I don t think she was a revolutionary feminist She didn t write a book like The golden notebook of Doris Lessing She is not The woman destroyed of Simone de Beauvoir, despite her life I think she was beyond all these things Although I am not a professional Woolf reader, after reading the years I felt I discovered something new in my life a new author, a new kind of writing above all kinds of hatred, a new kind of womanhood in fact She s smart She has her own style She s strong She s different The Years is like I can say The Waves that I have read it years ago, I could finish it but I don t think I wholly understood it, because of a bad translation or perhaps it s untranslatable or maybe I wasn t yet a mature reader It is the story of a family There are 4 sisters and 3 brothers living in a big house with their sick mother and father This is how it starts The title of each chapter is a certain year It goes for decades for almost fifty years until each one of the characters gets old What we expect from a Woolf novel should not be a mixture of events which supposedly must constitute a special year chapter Like chapter 1914 which is describing only one day, they are snapshots of a period od time I realized that I should read it like a poem, a long poem of winds, clouds, leaves, pigeons, sounds and noise, seasons , streets and London Each chapter starts with a description of a special season and then characters are floating in these natural frames It was January Snow was falling snow had fallen all day The sky spread like a grey goose s wing from which feathers were falling all over England The sky was nothing but a flurry of falling flakes Lanes were levelled hollows filled the snow clogged the streams obscured windows, and lay wedged against doors.This is beautiful to see that how characters remain themselves by passing years How for instance Sara poetically reacts to other people s behavior in her 40 s like her 20 s Or how Woolf manages that her characters remembers those memories from years ago that we have read about them in previous chapters and it was for me a reminiscence of reading Proust I think one main special characteristics of Woolf s is that you have to participate in the novel Although she puts some clues in different places but you have to guess some things yourself And that makes it a mysterious reading The main characters are mainly women One thing that I really liked about them was that Woolf sometimes sees them from the eyes of other people, an old man sitting in front of them in a bus for instance The man on whose toe she had trodden sized her up a well known type with a bag philanthropic well nourished a spinster a virgin like all the women of her class, cold her passions had never been touched yet not unattractive She was laughing That above sentence looked so natural to me I mean as she herself says in A room of one s own, a successful female author writes beyond her gender And Woolf proves that she is like that


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