“How much she wanted it- that people should look pleased as she came in, Clarissa thought and turned and walked back towards Bond Street, annoyed, because it was so silly to have other reasons for doing things. Much rather would she have been one of those people like Richard who did things for themselves, whereas, she thought, waiting to cross, half the time she did things not simply, not for themselves, but to make people think this or that; perfect idiocy she knew (and now the policeman held up his hand) for no one was ever for a second taken in. Oh if she could have had her life over again! she thought, stepping on to the pavement, could have looked even differently!”
Dates read: May 29 – June 4, 2017
Rating: 7/10
Lists/Awards: Time All-Time 100 Novels, 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, Newsweek Top 100 Books
Our lives are the series of hundreds, even thousands of choices that we’ve made day by day. Sometimes those choices are the obvious, life-changing kind: where to go to school, who to date, the career path we pursue. But sometimes they’re little things that we couldn’t imagine having big ramifications. Going out instead of staying in one night, or vice versa. Like Sliding Doors. But it’s all the choices, taken together, that really make up having a life.
Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway takes place over the course of just one day, as the titular Clarissa Dalloway prepares for and throws a party, but its scope is really her whole life and the choices she’s made. Most importantly, the summer when she rejected the suit of her friend Peter and instead chose to marry Richard Dalloway, a minor politician with whom she has a daughter who’s now a young woman herself. Peter is suddenly back in town, in pursuit of a divorce for the younger-but-married woman he’s been courting, and comes by Clarissa’s home that morning, spurring her to think about that time of her life, when she was more passionate and free-spirited.
There’s a parallel story going on as well, that of Septimus Warren Smith. Once an idealistic student studying Shakespeare, he joined up to fight in World War I without really thinking about what he was getting into. He ended up with what we’d probably now diagnose as PTSD, and when he was sent to the villa of an Italian hatmaker to recover from his shellshock, impulsively married Lucrezia, the hatmaker’s lively daughter. Although the pair has been married for several years by the time the book takes place, they have not yet had children, much to Rezia’s chagrin. Septimus’ mental state, always delicate, has taken a turn for the worse and his wife is desperately trying to find him adequate help. Although the stories at first seem disconnected, it becomes obvious that Clarissa and Septimus are foils for each other. Each is reflecting back on their lives and choices and the consequences of decisions long-since made, and teetering between hope and despair.
This is one of those literary classics that I’m glad I came to outside of the typical “high school English” setting. Like The Great Gatsby (which I hated when I read it in high school, but loved once I read as an adult), it’s steeped in themes of remembrance and regret and reflecting on the choices made or not made that have shaped your path. And I’m sure I would have been disgusted that Clarissa had decided to marry steady, boring Richard who struggles to even just tell her he loves her because he’s so uncomfortable with feelings instead of Peter, who struggles to contain his wellsprings of emotion and with whom she clearly has a more natural chemistry. But adult me understands that sparking passion isn’t the same thing as love, and that Peter has not been able to make a steady relationship last, while Richard and Clarissa are still married, indicates that her instincts had merit.
Although it’s only about 200 pages long, Mrs. Dalloway is a dense novel that I read at about half of my usual pace. The narration skips around, following mostly Clarissa and Septimus but also Rezia, Richard, Peter, and others. As a book focused on memory, it’s presented in a more stream-of-consciousness style and demands close attention. It’s one of those books that you read and immediately know you’re going to get more out of every time you go back through it because there’s a lot there, and I’m sure this is a book I want to revisit. Woolf’s writing is lovely, not flowery or excessive but still packed with powerful themes and emotions. Since I wasn’t an English major, this is actually the first time I’ve read her work and I walked away wanting to read more. I’d recommend this book to everyone.
One year ago, I was reading: The Royals (review to come)
Two years ago, I was reading: Sophie’s Choice