Live-blogging Mrs Dalloway

Am I the only one noticing a distinct pattern here when it comes to the books I have to read for this Grad Studies in Fiction class I'm taking? Specifically that if I'm not doing something entertaining to keep my mind focused on the book I'm reading, I will very, very quickly lose interest most of the time?

I'm not the only one who noticed that? Okay, good. Then let's continue.

Today I'm reading Virginia Woolf's 1925 novel Mrs Dalloway. Note that there is no period after the Mrs because, well, there's not one. Apparently this was an early 20th century British thing; no Mr., Ms. or Mrs. had periods after them back then. Strange, but okay. No printing of the novel I've seen, PDF or print (I'm reading a PDF of it here on the computer because I can read the book twice as fast compared to reading the actual book in print) have the period. The print version I'm reading and using for/in the class is the most up-to-date Oxford World's Classics edition of the novel from 2009.

I'll begin by saying that I have always had a grand distaste for Virginia Woolf, steeped in being forced to read A Room of One's Own in undergrad and To the Lighthouse last semester -- a novel I altered the cover of on my version to include a comma and the word "Batman."

Get it?

To the Lighthouse, Batman!

Anyway.

I've never been a fan of her work. She writes beautifully and in a very poetic style, but as a high modernist, not a hell of a lot tends to happen in her novels. The classic example of that, of course, is To the Lighthouse, a book where quite literally nothing happens -- a painting is started, the family makes plans to go to the lighthouse by boat, ten years pass, people die without any fanfare, and they finally make it to the lighthouse and the painting is finished, but it's a crappy painting. That's really everything that happens in that book. At least A Room of One's Own has some redeeming qualities as a nonfiction feminist essay.

So, when I sat down to start Mrs Dalloway, I did so with dread and a whiny I-don't-want-to-read-this-fucking-book attitude (a perfect attitude to start a novel with, I know). However, the further I read into the novel, I became drawn in a bit more, and became more interested in the characters' lives and how they intersect. You'll see. For now, we start.


8PM Sunday:
I begin reading Mrs Dalloway after waking from a nap that led me to miss the entire Steelers/Patriots game after the first quarter.

10:15PM:
I'm a good 45 pages into the novel (yes, it took that long, it's dense) and have retreated to my Man Cave to live-blog it. I switch from the print version to the PDF version, and start this post.


Pages 1-45: We're introduced to who appear to be the main characters of the novel and it is implied (and told to the reader on the back cover) that the novel takes place over the span of one summer day in June, 1923. Clarissa Dalloway, our 52-year-old protagonist, is throwing a party that night, and has gone out to get flowers for said party. She is daydreaming about a lot of people and things that have taken place in her past, such as a slightly homoerotic relationship she had with her friend Sally Seton. Richard Dalloway, her husband, works for the British government and has yet to make an appearance in the novel at this point, but he is spoken of. Septimus Smith, and his wife Lucrezia, two other main characters, are suffering a rocky marriage; Septimus married Lucrezia in the war in Italy, and she came back home to London with him after the Armistice. Septimus is shell-shocked and has gone insane, and is having hallucinations -- including seeing and talking to the ghost of his friend Evans, who was killed in the war, amongst other strange apparitions. Because of these things, he immediately becomes my favorite character even though I know his eventual fate (which we'll get to later). Lucrezia is fed up, and wants to send him back to his psychiatrist, Sir William Bradshaw. She stops wearing her wedding ring, as their marriage is effectively over. We're then introduced to Peter Walsh, a lifelong friend of Clarissa's who has returned from a five-year stint in India, and he visits Clarissa at home to tell her he is in love with an Indian girl, Daisy...but also to reveal to some extent that he has loved Clarissa all along, etc etc. His declarations are interrupted by the appearance of Clarissa's daughter, Elizabeth, who he vows to talk to later at the party to ask questions of whether Clarissa is actually happy in her marriage to Dalloway. It is revealed that he wanted to marry Clarissa many years prior, but was rejected by her in favor of Dalloway, and his internal monologue spends several pages in flashback-mode telling the story before he idly stalks a pretty girl through the streets after leaving Clarissa's house and puts off the vibe of being, generally, a creepy-creeper. His internal monologue tells us then that he "made up the tale of stalking the girl" through the streets, or something. It's very existential. Whew. Anyway...

Page 51: Septimus hallucinates more ghosts, and talks to them while Lucrezia is with him. A thoroughly creepy scene that is delightful to read on the night before Halloween. Why can't the entire book be just about him?

Page 52: The novel, abandoning the awesomeness of Septimus Smith's ghosts, takes a sharp turn and weaves back into Peter Walsh's backstory as well as more of Sally Seton's backstory, in an attempt to -- I think -- kill any good thoughts I was having about Woolf's writing ability and fill more pages of a book with words. Wordswordswords. First formal mention/discussion of Hugh Whitbread, a foppish character everyone in the novel seems to think is obnoxious.

Page 55: Peter admits that he is no longer in love with Clarissa anymore and must be focused on Daisy, thereby throwing his entire conversation with her, as well as his oh-so-pining flashback a few pages prior almost completely out the window. Arrrgh.


11PM:
I'm about 1/3 of the way through the book. I'm hoping it moves quickly from this point forward, because otherwise I'm definitely going to lose interest quite quickly once more. I drink a pot of coffee and begin to brainstorm on what I want to write my response paper about for this book.


Page 57:
Peter: Oh, maybe I am in love with her after all, I don't know. It's certain she's in love with me, though.
Me: ARRGHHHH
Peter: Oh, by the way, Clarissa's an atheist, too.
Me: Um...good to know, I guess?

Page 58: Peter reveals he's a"whimpering, sniveling old ass." Like we didn't know. Get to the point, book.

Page 60: We finally move back into the mindset and internal monologue of Lucrezia (or, as the book shortens her name frequently, Rezia), who is taking Septimus to Bradshaw the psychiatrist, as she's had enough of his batty shit for a wife to stand. Finally, the plot begins to move forward a bit more.

Page 62: We're now getting the backstory of the end of the War (WWI) and how Rezia and Septimus met and married, as well as how his mental illnesses developed. Okay. Fair enough. I know already what's going to happen to Septimus (but you don't), so this to an extent makes sense.

Page 64: "Love between man and woman was repulsive to Shakespeare. The
business of copulation was filth to him before the end. But, Rezia said,
she must have children. They had been married five years ... One cannot bring children into a world like this. One cannot perpetuate suffering, or increase the breed of these lustful animals, who have no lasting emotions, but only whims and vanities, eddying them now this way, now that." A beautiful passage.

Page 66: It's revealed for about the 600th time that there's nothing physically wrong with Septimus; it's all psychological. We know this already. Again, get to the point, book. Later on the page, it's told to us that Septimus has kill yourself, kill yourself running through his head at almost all times. Fair enough.

Page 67: The entire monologue and backstory comes full circle when Dr. Holmes tells Rezia to take Septimus to Bradshaw the psychiatrist, as there is little else he can do for him other than drug him to sleep when he goes nuts. So we're back to where we were seven pages ago with no real progression of the story at hand. Also of note: the Big Ben clock strikes noon, which is halfway through the day -- as the story is supposed to take place over the span of one day, it can be assumed that the story at hand is now half-finished. Presumably.

Pages 69-73: Septimus is examined by Bradshaw, and it is recommended that he be committed on what would be the 1923 London's version of a 5150 -- an involuntary psychiatric hold. He sees himself as being on trial for a crime, and begins to hallucinate all sorts of weird-ass things shortly thereafter.

Page 75: Lady Bruton and, finally, Richard Dalloway enters the novel in the present tense, not just in flashbacks. They, along with Hugh Whitbread, talk about Clarissa and Peter in idle chit-chat for three fucking pages, not moving the story forward anymore and, once again, taking us away from the awesomeness that is Septimus Smith.

Page 82: "Hugh was becoming an intolerable ass." I just love that sentence, even though nothing else of import is really happening in the novel right now.

Page 83: Richard knows Peter was in love with Clarissa, and has an inkling that he may still be -- because, otherwise, why would he have come back to her? Richard makes the vow to immediately remind Clarissa how much he loves her. Oooh, drama! Romance! I'll take anything I can get as long as it moves. the story. forward.

Page 86: Everyone is questioning everything! How nice! GET TO THE POINT, BOOK.

Page 88: Elizabeth comes back into the book. Okay. Clarissa is resting. Okay. And now we go into the backstory of Elizabeth and her German schoolteacher, Miss Kilman. Miss Kilman has taken Elizabeth under her wing because she cannot stand how Clarissa thinks about life, what with her love of high society and parties, etc etc.

Pages 88-95: Sigh. For fuck's sake, Virginia Woolf, please, in just one of your books, let there be some action or something that actually moves the story forward, without all this bullshit flashback expository stuff that serves no purpose to the story but to fill more fucking pages I am forced to read. Yes, we get it. Miss Kilman doesn't like Mrs Dalloway. We get it, okay? Say it in a sentence and move the fuck on.

Pages 96-100: Elizabeth seems to aimlessly wander London by bus. What does this have to do with the story at hand, again? Elizabeth Dalloway is a minor character at best. At best. The reader doesn't need to know, or care, through expository mental monologues what she thinks of Miss Kilman, what she thinks of her mother, or what her mother thinks of her. It's fucking pointless.

Page 100: Finally, Septimus and Rezia re-enter the story. Septimus has lost all fear and seems to be ready to commit suicide, and Rezia is distraught that Septimus is being committed. Um...isn't that what she wanted, really?

Pages 101-103: Septimus seems "normal," as in, "not insane for the time being." This doesn't last long, and he soon begins hallucinating again.

Page 106: Dr. Holmes comes, presumably to drag off Septimus to the psych ward. Septimus searches frantically for weapons to defend himself (a bread knife, a razor, etc) before basically saying "fuck it" and jumping out the window to his death.

Page 107: Yes, Septimus is indeed dead, mangled, etc. One of the only major plot points in the book, and Woolf barely spends half a page on it before -- again -- rushing headlong back into the thoughts of Peter Walsh. Again, arrrrrrrrrgh.

Pages 108-114:
Peter: I'm going to pine over Clarissa some more; are you cool with that?
Me: No, no I'm not. You've already done that enough. We haven't forgotten.
Peter: But this time it's different! She sent me a letter! And it's 6PM! I might yet go to her party tonight, but I might not!
Me: Blah, blah, whatever; just shut up, make up your mind on what you want to do and just fucking do it. Spare us your monologues.

Page 115: Peter finally decides to go to the party. This could have been said in one sentence, not seven pages -- yet his internal monologue continues for another three after this, mostly pointlessly and rambling.

Page 118: Lucy enters the picture. Wait, Lucy? Who the fuck is Lucy? Jenny? Agnes? Lady Lovejoy? Ellen Barnet, Miss Alice, Mr. Wilkins...who the hell are all of these people? Why do we care? What the hell is going on here? Oh. Apparently the party is starting. I guess. Now that the novel's most awesome character is dead, I've lost a lot of interest in what's actually going on. It's become yet another novel of pomp-and-circumstance, of women in British high society doing British high society things. Again, SIGH.


12:19AM:
I realize that the book seems like it's going to be painfully, dreadfully boring throughout the rest of it at this point, but I also know there's only about 25 pages left of it. I take a break to ponder what my response paper will be about, and settle on the treatment of mental illness within the novel, specifically with Septimus, especially since he's certifiably insane but for the most part, that's glossed over in an attempt to basically say that because he's insane, he has no place in the high society of Mrs Dalloway's world, and must quickly be written out of the book in whatever way possible. WTF. Something along those lines. I also check my student email and respond to a few students' questions before getting back to work at 12:41.


Pages 119-121: We're getting all sorts of heretofore unmentioned or very, very minor characters entering the novel now as guests arriving at the party. Annnnnnd the novel again comes full circle when we see Peter has arrived to the party, and begins chatting up Richard Dalloway. This should be interesting...

Page 122: Oh heavens, Clarissa isn't enjoying her party. Wah-wah. But wait! Sally Seton comes back and attends the party. In the back of my mind I secretly hope this is going to end in a lesbian lovefest between her and Clarissa. This is dispelled when she states that she's married and has five boys.


1:01AM:
I am distracted for ten minutes by listening to songs from The Simpsons on YouTube. Dammit. Gotta get back into it. Canyonerooooo....


Page 124: It's also revealed that the Prime Minister has come to Clarissa's party as well. Classy. Lots of party talk/monologues going on in these pages. Waiting for the climax of the book as I read.

Pages 125-131: Six full pages of people socializing about the party. Seriously. Most of the novel's minor characters make an appearance, if only briefly. The book has become a scene from Evelina or Madame Bovary, and I am wincing and rolling my eyes, gritting my teeth to get through it. Rezia is noticeably absent from the pomp-and-circumstance of the party.

Page 132: The Lady Bradshaw makes an appearance, the wife of Sir William Bradshaw -- Septimus' psychiatrist. The news of Septimus' death floats about the party, and Clarissa gets offended that someone would talk of death during her party. What a bitch. This (rightfully so) throws a pall over her thoughts, and she realizes how happy she is with Richard -- implying that she is much happier with him than she ever could have been with Peter. Okay. So it serves a narrative purpose, at least. She also basically says "Hey, good on him, it makes him more human."

Pages 133-137: A lot more party talk and monologues, specifically between Peter and Sally on why Clarissa had married Richard instead of Peter, and all sorts of different implications thereof. During all of these party pages, I am much reminded of James Joyce's The Dead, and wonder if he influenced Woolf or vice-versa.

Page 138: Sir William Bradshaw is at the party as well. Still no mention of Rezia or Septimus by name. It is revealed that Sally is 55, with the heart and spirit of a 20-year-old. Peter wants her to meet up with Daisy, his soon-to-be-bride in India (yeah, even though he's been pining for Clarissa for 90% of the book).

Page 139: What. The fuck. Seriously. Read this:

"Richard has improved. You are right," said Sally. "I shall go and talk
to him. I shall say goodnight. What does the brain matter," said Lady
Rosseter, getting up, "compared with the heart?"
"I will come," said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this ter-
ror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me
with extraordinary excitement?
It is Clarissa, he said.
For there she was.

That's it. That's how the goddamned book ends. No resolution, no after-party, nothing. The clock strikes midnight, signaling the end of the day, the party winds down, and the book ends. And people like Woolf's style of writing why, exactly?

I'm stunned, really I am, though I probably shouldn't be. Woolf is a modernist, and can get away with no real ending to her stories that way. At least this book had more plot and more action than To the Lighthouse (Batman!) did. Still, I want my five hours of reading back. So, so want them back. I mean, the novel's most interesting character killed himself, and then was never mentioned again! His hallucinations were some of the novel's most beautifully-written and altogether creepy passages, and then Woolf quickly offs him. How nice. She could've written that entire novel around him. Oy.

So, that's my live-blogging of Mrs Dalloway. I'm going to write my short response paper on it now for class, shower, and then go to bed. In the morning I have a few little errands to run and some other school-related work to take care of. As I'd actually like to try to get some sleep on Monday night as well, I'll be getting up fairly early (around 9 or so).

'Til we meet again, folks.