To Buy or Not to Buy!

Educators, lovers of theatre and great literature--take note! Late in the 1990s, Harper Row began to release on cassettes the Arkangel Complete Shakespeare, all of which I reviewed in one paper or another. Using some of the best of the young theatrical talent in Great Britain and some of the older established stars of stage and screen, the producers gave us readings of every single word of every single play by Shakespeare, including the seldom-performed "Two Noble Kinsmen" which is partially by Shakespeare.

Well, hold on! Audio Partners has been contracted to release the entire set on CDs. The trick is that you cannot purchase the individual sets but are required to purchase the entire package of 38 plays for $600. That is 98 CDs in all with a playing time of just over 101 hours! Libraries and school departments take note.

Hearing them as they were released on tape in batches of four or five, I was impressed mostly with the enormity of the project but found some things to quibble about. Casting Oberon and Titania with a pair whose voices were South African or Jamaican (no Henry Higgins, I) made some sense in that it emphasized their other-worldly-ness. So did assigning Malvolio in "Twelfth Night" to an actor with a distinct Scottish accent, but giving Mercutio in "Romeo and Juliet" to the same actor was absurd. Then too there is that sudden sound effect of a train pulling out of a station in the middle of "All's Well That Ends Well"! Granted there was a production current then that did place the play in more modern times, but when one is hearing a recording with no clue as to setting, the result was jarring and should have been omitted.

In the grander roles such as Hamlet, Othello and the like, the younger actors give modern readings which might strike some as slighting demands of the high poetry. And those who long for the grander readings can turn to the re-releases of the old Shakespeare Recording Society sets.

One great disadvantage to the cassettes is that you could locate a specific scene only with much fast forwarding. With CDs, of course, you can jump to any scene by pressing the Skip button on your player. When a scene continues onto another disc, the tracking list tells you at which line the scene picks up.

The price might be prohibitive to all but an institution--but I feel that every library should find its way to purchasing the complete set in much the same way that many purchased the complete set of BBC Shakespeare videos.

If you have to empty your penny jar, if you have to cash in your IRA, do so. Get this. These are absolutely superb recordings of some of the best English ever written and some of the most memorable characters ever created. So you don't recognize every word. Doesn't matter. The excellent actors carry you along and draw you intimately into the drama.

You can follow the play in text if you choose to -- they follow the readily available Complete Pelikan Shakespeare. But you don't need to -- if you aren't familiar with a play the brief four or five line summaries of each scene in the small fold-out accompanying each play are quite sufficient to know which characters are involved. It's possible to listen to these while driving, but you can't concentrate fully unless you're totally stuck in traffic. My number one recommendation is to take a Walkman and a pair of headphones to a hammock under a tree and indulge yourself. Second best is a comfy easy chair.

However you listen to these, do get them and listen to them. Or persuade your local library to get the set.

The price -- ...-- seems high until you figure that this is 38 complete plays -- less than the cost of the same play in paperback -- and there are a total of 83 disks, so you're paying just $5 per disk. Cheap! And these aren't some pop music you'll listen to once; these are a lifetime investment for yourself and your family.

Get it. Period.

These performances will keep you spellbound. There is something profound and amazing about listening to this Shakespeare, probably owing to the combination of perfect sound; nuanced, captivating, stellar acting; and fully comprehending the magic of The Bard's words. The quality of the recording is impeccable - there are no glitches, and the volume-level is consistent. Listening on my CD player at home, and following along with the text (not included with the CDs), I feel like I'm "getting" Shakespeare, and being moved by his words, like never before. I even find this listening more satisfying than seeing a Shakespeare play because I can better grasp and appreciate every line. The acting is first-rate (most actors are well-recognized RSC alumns, many of whom have become respected British film stars - ahem - Joseph Fiennes, Ciaran Hinds, Simon Russell Beale, Amanda Root, to name a few), and the clarity of the production picks up the most delicate subtleties of each performance. The background music complements and enhances each play, but isn't obtrusive. I wholeheartedly recommend this set - it will take you to a new level with Shakespeare.

Published in 1932, this novel is a hysterically funny, tongue in cheek parody of the heavy handed, gloomy novels of some early twentieth century English writers who had previously been so popular. Tremendously successful when first published, "Cold Comfort Farm" caused quite a stir in its time.

The novel starts out innocuosly enough, when well educated Flora Poste finds herself orphaned at the age of twenty. Discovering that her father was not the wealthy man she believed him to be, she is resigned to the fate of having to live on a hundred pounds a year. Opting to live with relatives, rather than earn her bread, she seeks out a most unlikely set of relations, the odd Starkadder family who live in Howling, Sussex.

Therein begins what is certainly one of the funniest novels ever written. When Flora arrives in Howling, she meets her odd relatives, who live in neglected, ramshackle "Cold Comfort Farm", where they still wash the dishes with twigs, and have cows named Graceless, Pointless, Feckless, and Aimless. Headed by a seventy nine year old matriarch, Flora's aunt, Ada Doom Starkadder, who has not been right in the head since she "saw something nasty happen in the woodshed" nearly seventy years ago, they are a motley and strange crew indeed. Confronted with their dismal and gloomy existence, Flora sets about trying to put things to right.

Peppered with eccentric, memorable characters, this book will take the reader on a journey not easily forgotten. It is one that is sure to make the reader revisit this novel yet again, like an old friend who is missed too soon.

I was urged to read this novel. "Hilarious! Hysterical! Will make you laugh aloud!" One friend said she read it while undergoing chemotherapy and laughing out loud, and had the nurses laughing, too. Another friend has this as one of her perennial favorites. I respect both friends, so I gave this a try. I really did. Twice. The second time, I stopped trying to plow through and just skilled around. I admit I did laugh aloud, but only when I was struck by the reflection that these two friends thought it funny. My advice: forget it. If you want to laugh aloud, pick up THREE MEN IN A BOAT (To Say Nothing Of The Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome, and pass on this one.

I can't tell you how many times I've read Cold Comfort Farm but everytime I do I can't help but laugh out loud and enjoy it just as much as the first time I read it.

It is the story of expensively educated Flora Poste, whose parents die when she is only 20. Rather than make a living for herself by working she decides to foist herself onto her relatives at Cold Comfort Farm in Sussex. The Starkadders are a decidedly odd bunch consisting of; Aunt Ada Doom who saw "something nasty in the woodshed" when she was two and is assumed to be mad, Judith, alone with her grief, Amos, called by God to preach of hellfire and damnation, Seth smoldering with sex and obsessed with the 'talkies', Elfine who runs wild in the woods and the fields, and other crazy characters. Flora feels it is her duty to bring order into this chaos and to tidy the lives of these uncivilised relatives as she is an excessively tidy person and dislikes a mess.

Stella Gibbon's novel is charming, incredibly funny and parodies the earthy, melodramatic novels (Thomas Hardy and D.H Lawrence et al) of the period extremely well. It is a must read and shall remain my favourite book for many years to come.
If you want to see one of the tv adaptations of the novel I would recommend the version starring Kate Beskinsale as the best.

Newly-orphaned Flora Poste decides that the hundred pounds per annum left to her by her parents will simply not do. Disregarding her friend Mrs. Smiling's advice that she find employment, Flora seeks out her only relatives to support her. Choosing the Starkadders of Cold Comfort Farm in Howling, Sussex, Flora sets about making life comfortable and orderly for her bizarre cousins.

Setting the action slightly in the future, Stella Gibbons creates a hilariously surreal world pulled straight from Gothic-style novels of the early 1900's where descriptions of the country were prolix, decadent, and elaborate (she precedes those sections with ***). The dark and melodramatic and stereotypical are given much the same treatment Jane Austen gave the original Gothic novels in Northanger Abbey. In general, Gibbons seems to model herself after Austen just as Flora models herself after her favorite books. Flora is reminiscent of Emma Woodhouse (of Austen's Emma), trying to make everyone's life more perfect. Except in Flora's case, it works beautifully.

Flora is a cheeky, but dignified character - everything she predicts happens exactly as she says, no matter how wildly preposterous the situation may be. As she begins to straighten out the chaos of Cold Comfort by allowing each member fulfill their dreams - of course, only in proper channels and as neatly as possible - she in effect takes over the family. The last obstacle is Aunt Ada Doom, a woman every inch as formidable as, well, Flora herself.

Each of the thoroughly memorable characters are totally unique - I dare you to find any more eccentric and still lovable - with Dickensian names, but not the baggage. This is a book that didn't make me smile or chuckle, but positively laugh with glee. It's clever, witty, sly, and extremely satisfying.

You need not be an Anglophile to enjoy Jane, the vicar's wife whose literary past has her quoting odd lines of seventeenth century poetry at inappropriate moments, startling her visitors and making her readers giggle. Jane's friend Prudence is all propriety and green eye shadow, but can't seem to find a suitable husband among many suitors, some more colorful than others. A brief but pleasing little novel, sharply written and finely shaped. If you're not already a Pym fan, you'll become one.

'Jane and Prudence' is what I would call a 'universe' novel, rather than a 'things happen' one. Pym draws one into the quietly complex world of her characters. Jane is a charmingly dithery clergyman's wife, deep in her own literary world and consequently always saying and doing not quite the right thing. There is much irony in this novel, especially in the way characters relate to each other. Pym exposes the petty prejudices and selfish scheming manouvres of ordinary people. Although this is not what you'd call a nail-biter, I found 'Jane and Prudence' very engaging, and a pleasure to read.

What a joy it is to sink into a Barbara Pym novel, especially this one, which is one of my favorites. The eye for detail, the wit, the ability to sketch a character with just a sentence or two, that this author possesses, never fail to delight. I return to her novels every couple of years, and find them to be balm for the soul.

This trip into the English countryside of 50 years ago, with its vicars, teas, and rationing, is a gentle and wondrous escape from current realities. Yet, like all great literature, its insights into human nature is timeless.

On a single day in June, Clarissa Dalloway is preparing for the party she is giving that evening. Septimus Warren Smith struggles with mental illness as a result of his experiences in WWI. Using stream-of-consciousness technique Virginia Woolf explores the thoughts, emotions and sensations of these two characters and others connected with them. Past and present commingle in her characters' minds and this merging of past history and present moment allows for much richer presentation of the characters and their universe than the plot would suggest.

The chief pleasures of the book are the vivid, evocative, poetic language, and Woolf's gift for inner dialogue - the stories characters tell themselves - which in turn reveals them to us.

How good is the book? I "Mrs. Dalloway" can be found on many lists of the greatest novels of the 20th century, one of Virginia Woolf's major achievements. More often than not, it's considered her best work after "To the Lighthouse." Personally, I loved the book, and it led me to start reading her other books and to the biographies. The practical question is not whether this is a good book - it is arguably a great book. The question is whether it is for you.

The book is unapologetically literary, which means that if you don't find language a genuine pleasure, you probably won't enjoy it. For those who do, the rich, imaginative language is the reason for reading. There is little in the way of conventional suspense to keep one turning the pages. The stream-of-consciousness style is demanding, and it requires an attentive reader. On the other hand, it would be a mistake to overemphasize the difficulties. The action of the book is relatively easy to follow, and one does not need a concordance to appreciate it. In fact a good sense of the language can be had simply by reading the first few pages provided in Amazon's section, "Look Inside the Book."

Marcel Proust's "In Search of Lost Time" and James Joyce's "Ulysses" stand, to this day, as the two great classics of modern literature. In Proust, the stunning use of memory and sense perception, as well as the stream of consciousness narrative of the great "roman fleuve", marked the auspicious beginnings of a modern sensibility and technique in fiction. Similarly, Joyce's difficult, blasphemous and similarly streaming novel, set in the course of a single day and emanating from the perceiving mind of its narrator, carried forward this sensibility and technique. It is not surprising, then, that Virginia Woolf, while writing her brilliant and innovative "Mrs. Dalloway", was reading these two authors at the time, for Woolf's novel stands as yet another masterful work of modern sensibility and technique, a classic in its own right.

"Mrs. Dalloway" is set entirely during a single bright beautiful day in June, when Clarissa Dalloway is occupied by last minute preparations for a party she is having that evening. The wife of Richard Dalloway, a member of Parliament, Mrs. Dalloway is someone who is skilled, like an artist, at creating the perfect party. But the resemblances to a character and a narrative from Jane Austen or Anthony Trollope end there, for Woolf's fictional agenda is consciously modern and her technique is entirely that of interior monologue, omniscient description and, most markedly, a stream of consciousness narrative. Thus, Woolf's text gracefully and imaginatively moves from the interiority of Clarissa Dalloway's thoughts, perceptions and memories to those of the her former lover, Peter Walsh, who has just returned from India, to those of Septimus Warren Smith, a kind of literary doppelganger to Clarissa, a broken young man who served in World War I and suffers the horrible psychological effects of that conflict. It is, in particular, Septimus who darkly hovers over the gaiety of Mrs. Dalloway's day and, ultimately, brings that psychological darkness to Mrs. Dalloway's party.

Continually challenging the reader, Woolf's difficult, stream of consiousness narrative technique brings the reader into the minds of the characters, the language on the page telling a coherent and deeply sensitive story by describing sensations, memories, feelings. But it is worth the effort, for "Mrs. Dalloway" is truly one of the great works of Twentieth century English literature, a modern novel that can stand comfortably, albeit diminuitively, next to The Great Marcel and the creator of Bloom's Day.

Although the time covered in this complex novel is only one day, Virginia Woolf, through her genius, manages to cover a lifetime unraveling and exposing the mysteries of the human personality.

The central character of the novel is the delicate Clarissa Dalloway, a disciplined English gentlewoman who provides the perfect contrast to another of the book's characters, Septimus Warren Smith, an ex-soldier whose world is disintegrating into chaos. Although Clarissa and Septimus never meet, it is through the interweaving of each one's story into a gossamer whole that Woolf works her genius.

The book is set on a June day in 1923, as Clarissa prepares for a party that evening. Unfolding events trigger memories and recollections of her past, and Woolf offers these bits and pieces to the reader who must then construct the psychological and emotional makeup of Clarissa Dalloway in his own mind. We also learn much about Clarissa through the thoughts of other characters, such as her one-time lover, Peter Walsh, her friend, Sally Seton, her husband, Richard and her daughter Elizabeth.

It is Septimus Warren Smith, however, driven to the brink of insanity by the war, an insanity that even his wife's tender ministrations cannot cure, who acts as Clarissa's societal antithesis and serves to divide her world into the "then" and the "now."

In this extremely complex and character-driven novel, Woolf offers her readers a challenge. The novel is not separated into chapters; almost all of the action occurs in the thoughts and reminiscences of the characters and the reader must piece together the story from the random bits and pieces of information each character provides. The complexity of the characters may add to the frustration because Woolf makes it difficult for the reader to receive any single dominant impression of any one of them. This, however, forms the essence of the novel and displays the genius of Woolf: It is impossible to describe any human being in a simple phrase or collection of adjectives. We are many things to many people, all of them somewhat different, none of them the same, just as we are many things to ourselves.

Throughout the book, the reader is constantly called upon to compare and contrast Peter Walsh and Richard Dalloway, the two significant love interests in Clarissa Dalloway's life. Compared to Peter, an adventurer, Richard Dalloway appears more than a bit reserved and dour. But, readers must constantly question this view of Richard as his personality seems to alter with his altering relationships.

Intimacy, particularly emotional intimacy, and the preservation of one's uniqueness are two of Woolf's continuing themes. We find that Clarissa married Richard, in part, to preserve her sense of self; Peter would have demanded far more of her than she was, perhaps, willing to give. Here, Clarissa and Septimus, so outwardly different, would find they share much in common. While Clarissa feels threatened by her daughter's tenacious tutor, Miss Kilman, as well as by Peter, Septimus feels threatened by his doctor. Each feels the others are asking too much. Septimus and Clarissa even agree on the subject of death: "There is no death," Septimus declares, while Clarissa, the atheist, secretly believes that bits and pieces of her will remain intact forever.

Although some characters in this book may, at first, appear to be one-dimensional, we soon learn that all are extraordinarily complex. There is Sally, impulsive yet considerate; Richard, bashful yet timid; Peter inhibited yet adventurous; Septimus, insane yet credible. And Clarissa? She is all of these things and more.

It is, however, Woolf's torrential stream-of-consciousness prose that makes this novel a true masterpiece. Even those who find the plot of little interest will be drawn in by the exquisiteness of Woolf's language. This is a complex, character study in the fullest sense of the word, one with no easy answers, for Woolf, in the end seems to be telling us that perhaps, at our essence, we are all unknowable, even to ourselves.

In 1928, Virginia Woolf was asked to speak on the topic of "women and fiction". The result, based upon two papers she delivered to literary societies at Newnham and Girton in October of that year, was "A Room of One's Own", an extended essay on women as both writers of fiction and as characters in fiction. And, while Woolf suggests that, "when a subject is highly controversial-and any question about sex is that-one cannot hope to tell the truth," her essay is, in fact, an extraordinarily even-handed, thoughtful and perceptive reflection on the topic.

Woolf begins with a simple and enigmatic opinion: "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction; and that, as you will see, leaves the great problem of the true nature of woman and the true nature of fiction unresolved." From this spare beginning, Woolf deftly explores the difference between how women had been portrayed in fiction, and how they actually lived in the world, during the preceding centuries. "A very queer, composite being emerges. Imaginatively, she is of the highest importance; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was a slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger."

The source of dissonance between how women were portrayed in fiction, and how they actually lived, was the fact that most fiction prior to the nineteenth century was written by men. As Woolf astutely points out, "[i]t was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Jane Austen's day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex." Woolf's observation is no feminist polemic; it is, rather, an incisive comment on how fiction was impoverished when it was written only by men.

Even when fiction was written by women, it was powerfully influenced by patriarchal notions of virtue and the proper role of women. Thus, Woolf suggests there could be no female Shakespeare in sixteenth century England because no women would be tolerated who lived in the real world like the Bard. "No girl could have walked to London and stood at a stage door and forced her way into the presence of actor-managers without doing herself violence and suffering an anguish which may have been irrational-for chastity may be a fetish invented by societies for unknown reasons-but were none the less inevitable." Indeed, this "relic of the sense of chastity" dictated that more daring female authors-George Eliot, George Sand, Currer Bell-maintain anonymity as late as the nineteenth century.

When female writers did find a "room of their own," they were still limited by social and cultural imperatives. Thus, the first of the great women novelists-Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot-wrote largely from the drawing room, not from the experiences of the larger world-the very conditions of their writing life being as cramped as the their restricted lives. As Woolf notes, in commenting on Charlotte Bronte, "[s]he knew, no one better, how enormously her genius would have profited if it had not spent itself in solitary visions over distant fields; if experience and intercourse and travel had been granted her. But they were not granted, they were withheld."

Ultimately, Woolf suggests that the "true" nature of women will only be approached in fiction when women are sufficiently independent-not only in a financial sense, but in the sense of being freed from societal and cultural restraints-to explore the quotidian, the everyday lives of people in the world. This is the aspect of the fictional world that, in Woolf's view, was absent from the male-dominated novel prior to the nineteenth century.

Woolf further suggests that the "true" nature of fiction is expressed only through those writers who can transcend their narrow sexual roles-become "man-womanly" or "woman-manly"-so as to convey the fullness of the real world. As Woolf notes, "Coleridge perhaps meant this when he said that a great mind is androgynous. It is when this fusion takes place that the mind is fully fertilised and uses all of its faculties." Based on this criterion, Woolf promulgates her own canon of English male writers, a canon which includes Shakespeare, Keats, Sterne, Cowper, Lamb, Coleridge, and Proust (who "was perhaps wholly androgynous, if not perhaps a little too much of a woman").

"A Room of One's Own" is, in sum, a fascinating, thoughtful and perceptive essay on women and fiction written by one of the Twentieth century's most formidable writers and thinkers, a woman who truly succeeded in creating a room of her own in the canon of modern English literature.

In 1928, Virginia Woolf was asked to speak on the topic of "women and fiction". The result, based upon two papers she delivered to literary societies at Newnham and Girton in October of that year, was "A Room of One's Own", an extended essay on women as both writers of fiction and as characters in fiction. And, while Woolf suggests that, "when a subject is highly controversial-and any question about sex is that-one cannot hope to tell the truth," her essay is, in fact, an extraordinarily even-handed, thoughtful and perceptive reflection on the topic.

Woolf begins with a simple and enigmatic opinion: "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction; and that, as you will see, leaves the great problem of the true nature of woman and the true nature of fiction unresolved." From this spare beginning, Woolf deftly explores the difference between how women had been portrayed in fiction, and how they actually lived in the world, during the preceding centuries. "A very queer, composite being emerges. Imaginatively, she is of the highest importance; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was a slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger."

The source of dissonance between how women were portrayed in fiction, and how they actually lived, was the fact that most fiction prior to the nineteenth century was written by men. As Woolf astutely points out, "[i]t was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Jane Austen's day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex." Woolf's observation is no feminist polemic; it is, rather, an incisive comment on how fiction was impoverished when it was written only by men.

Even when fiction was written by women, it was powerfully influenced by patriarchal notions of virtue and the proper role of women. Thus, Woolf suggests there could be no female Shakespeare in sixteenth century England because no women would be tolerated who lived in the real world like the Bard. "No girl could have walked to London and stood at a stage door and forced her way into the presence of actor-managers without doing herself violence and suffering an anguish which may have been irrational-for chastity may be a fetish invented by societies for unknown reasons-but were none the less inevitable." Indeed, this "relic of the sense of chastity" dictated that more daring female authors-George Eliot, George Sand, Currer Bell-maintain anonymity as late as the nineteenth century.

When female writers did find a "room of their own," they were still limited by social and cultural imperatives. Thus, the first of the great women novelists-Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot-wrote largely from the drawing room, not from the experiences of the larger world-the very conditions of their writing life being as cramped as the their restricted lives. As Woolf notes, in commenting on Charlotte Bronte, "[s]he knew, no one better, how enormously her genius would have profited if it had not spent itself in solitary visions over distant fields; if experience and intercourse and travel had been granted her. But they were not granted, they were withheld."

Ultimately, Woolf suggests that the "true" nature of women will only be approached in fiction when women are sufficiently independent-not only in a financial sense, but in the sense of being freed from societal and cultural restraints-to explore the quotidian, the everyday lives of people in the world. This is the aspect of the fictional world that, in Woolf's view, was absent from the male-dominated novel prior to the nineteenth century.

Woolf further suggests that the "true" nature of fiction is expressed only through those writers who can transcend their narrow sexual roles-become "man-womanly" or "woman-manly"-so as to convey the fullness of the real world. As Woolf notes, "Coleridge perhaps meant this when he said that a great mind is androgynous. It is when this fusion takes place that the mind is fully fertilised and uses all of its faculties." Based on this criterion, Woolf promulgates her own canon of English male writers, a canon which includes Shakespeare, Keats, Sterne, Cowper, Lamb, Coleridge, and Proust (who "was perhaps wholly androgynous, if not perhaps a little too much of a woman").

"A Room of One's Own" is, in sum, a fascinating, thoughtful and perceptive essay on women and fiction written by one of the Twentieth century's most formidable writers and thinkers, a woman who truly succeeded in creating a room of her own in the canon of modern English literature.

Virginia Woolf is a writer of intelligence and grace. A Room of One's Own is a skinny little treasure of a book with words and wisdom that will stay with the reader long after it is read. The essay contained in the book is the result of two papers that Ms. Woolf read to the Arts Society at newnham and Odtaa at Girton (England) in October of 1928. She was asked to speak about the topic of "Women and Fiction", and after doing so, she expanded her papers and later published them as this book.

Woolf begins the essay by writing, "I soon saw that [the subject of women and fiction] had one fatal drawback. I should never be able to come to a conclusion. I should never be able to fulfil what is, I understand, the first duty of a lecturer- to hand you after an hour's discourse a nugget of pure truth to wrap up between the pages of your notebooks and keep on the mantelpiece for ever. All I could do was to offer you an opinion upon one minor point- a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction... At any rate, when a subject is highly controversial- and any question about sex is that- one cannot hope to tell the truth. One can only show how one came to hold whatever opionion one does hold. One can only give one's audience the chance of drawing their own conslusions as they observe the limitations, the prejudices, the idiosyncrasies of the speaker."

It is in this straightforward and honest manner that Woolf writes about women and fiction. Although the speech was given and the book was published in 1929, all of its points are still important for women- and especially women writers and artists- today. In A Room of One's Own Woolf examines classic literary works of the past and wonders why most, until the 19th Century, were written by men, and why most of the works published by women in the 19th Century were fiction. She comes to the logical conclusion that women in the past had little to no time to write because of their childbearing and raising responsibilities. There is also the fact that they were not educated and were forbidden or discouraged from writing. When they did begin to write, they only had the common sitting rooms of Elizabethan homes to do so in, which did not provide much solitude or peace of mind, as it was open to any interruption and distraction that came along.

Woolf argues passionately that true independence comes with economic well-being. This is true for countries, governments, individuals, and writers, especially female writers. Without financial security it is impossible for any writer to have the luxury of writing for writing's sake. It is also a very inspiring book for any aspiring write to read. I end this review with Virginia Woolf's own hopes for women in the future:

"... I would ask you to write all kinds of books, hesitating at no subject however trivial or however vast. By hook or by crook, I hope that you will possess yourselves of money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream."

(If you liked this review, please read my other book reviews under my Amazon profile...)

As volumes of poetry go, The World's Wife is very tightly-themed: each poem is a monologue in the persona of a woman married (or otherwise attached) to a more famous man. The men are more usually from myth or fairy tale (Mrs Sisyphus, Mrs Beast) than from history, although five are biblical and one or two are from history as recent as the 1960s (I think The Devil's Wife may be a portrait of Myra Hindley). Duffy's approach to these monologues is almost absolutely consistent: the women express contempt, irritation, resentment and sorrow for the foolishness and egotism of their partners. Mrs Quasimodo desecrates her husband's beloved bells by fouling them with her own urine; both Penelope and Mrs Lazarus are discomfited by their husbands' return; Mrs Tiresias seeks solace in lesbianism. Only occasionally (as with Anne Hathaway) does the wife feel real love for her husband. The subject-matter, thus paraphrased, looks gloomy and bitter, but in fact these poems are entertaining and very likeable. It is quite important to these pieces that they are funny - and we do laugh because of the constantly-perceived clash between lofty, remote, sacred men and contemporary-sounding, slangy, immediate women. Duffy's language is exactly right for her project. Rhythmically it is strongly pulsing; even more important is the function of rhyme and half-rhyme (the latter perhaps this poet's single-most impressive talent). Reinforcing the wilful, aggressive quality of the rhetoric is Duffy's aptitude for witty puns involving cliches and hackneyed figures of speech (Eurydice is 'out of this world'). At the same time, however, the language is kept aerated and three-dimensional by beautiful off-the-cuff metaphors ('a snapdragon gargling a bee'). I think all this is extremely well-judged poetry; it is rich and confident and if it lacks subtlety, irony or mysteriousness, that is in the nature of its unusually rhetorical mission.

This book of poems was given to me by a friend and now lives on my desk at all times. Each poem is an absolute gem, sparkling with humour. I loved every one of them. They are all so different in tone, from the outrageously funny 'Mrs Icarus' to the achingly poignant 'Queen Herod'. As a woman who lives and works in an all-male environment, i would whole-heartedly say, this is an absolute must-buy.

These poems are so good, witty, smart, it might even turn me on to reading poetry again. But where can I find poems as intelligent and deep and amusing as these? I keep re-reading them for the joy of it. I had never heard of Ms. Duffy, but my sister sent me the book from England. I need more!

Is George Eliot the world's greatest novelist? There's certainly an argument to be made, based on her classics Middlemarch and Daniel Deronda, which feature characters as complex and vividly, bafflingly alive as those of Shakespeare.

Yet today she seems curiously unread and under-appreciated, certainly in comparison to her contemporary, Charles Dickens. This has long mystified me, but perhaps I've found the solution in Mill on the Floss.

Seemingly the best known of her books, Mill on the Floss is certainly the one most frequently taught in high schools and colleges. And it's probably enough to guarantee that most students forced through it or its Cliff Notes won't bother with her again.

Not that it's a bad book. If you like Eliot, you'll find plenty of her riveting, obsessive characterization and dramatic psychology here. But along with these come a fractured, frustrating structure, a dearth of narrative drive, and endless passages of phonetic, "naturalistic" rural accents. Not to mention an ending so out of left field it seems to belong to an entirely different story. Unlike Middlemarch and Daniel Deronda, or even early but more successful novels like Adam Bede, Mill on the Floss is work, and its rewards are more modest.

Mill on the Floss seems to rate the academic attention because of its autobiographical elements, perhaps for its dazzling heroine, rather than its overall quality. So don't let an underwhelmed response to this fascinating if flawed book keep you from the rest of her amazing work -- she might be the best novelist out there.

The Mill on the Floss has one of the most appealing young girl characterss of all 19th c. literature--Maggie Tolliver. The relationship between her and her brother is at once beautiful, horrible, and probably indicative of much that was true for boys and girls in 19th century England. Whenever I read the book (and I've read it a few times), I am again in love with Maggie, delighted with the people around her, and saddened by the heavy events that bring her down. George Eliot doesn't pull punches--when you've read one of her books, you know you've been somewhere else, experienced something powerful

In THE MILL ON THE FLOSS George Eliot provides an insightful and intelligent story depicting rural Victorian society. Set in the parish of St. Ogg's, Maggie and Tom Tulliver endure childhood and young adulthood while experiencing the harsh realities of poverty, devotion, love, and societal reputation. I emphasized greatly with Maggie as I have experienced some of her own lived experiences. I truly loved every chapter of this book and didn't want it to end. It is indeed very rare that I have this type of reaction to a book. Although this book was published during the Victorian era, it's amazing how Eliot's prose flows virtually unobstructed. The reader is given a rare glimpse into rural life during the 19th century and is treated to how strictly structured society was then. I am now a fan of Eliot and look forward to reading her other novels.

Bottom line: THE MILL ON THE FLOSS is an excellent novel. Enjoy!

First of all, this was my first experience in reading a stream of consciousness book. When I first began reading it, I thought I would enjoy it more than I did. Since I only read it in my spare time, which would sometimes only be fifteen minutes, I did not pay as much attention to the small details as I should have. It became difficult for me to follow each character because my own mind wondered off as the pages turned. Generally, I enjoy books that are suspenseful or have a fast-paced storyline, so this was simply not the style of book for me. Do not read this book if you are looking for an exciting plot or simply do not have the time to put into reading this short novel.

There were many reasons why I did not enjoy reading this classic. First of all, I disliked the author's complex, third person omniscient shifting of perspectives through the various characters in the tale. The book focuses more on the summer home in the Hebrides than on the actual characters themselves. Only the character's inner thoughts are written about and there are very few physical descriptions of them. The story is more about the inner workings and complexities of the small group of people than the lighthouse (or going there). Narrative voice is shared between characters as narration becomes thought and smoothly passes from character to character, anticipating the stream of consciousness style. The themes are also very abstract and its plot structure becomes undefined at times.

To the Lighthouse is a quiet and meditative novel that deals with post World War I issues. Often, I felt as if Woolf could not hold a single thought or development long enough to
make me care about anything. Virginia Woolf did give glances to a few good story possibilities, but then she would move on to something else; thus, losing my interest and never truly
developing any character or situation. As soon as something intriguing was about to occur, the book would jump back to events that happened in the past chapters.

I have read books that I enjoyed less than To the Lighthouse, so I do not consider it to be a horrible piece of literature. If you like to read stories that jump and skip from place to place, then maybe this novel is for you. I felt this novel could have adequately been told as a short story with its only lost being its monotone and dull nature. I had to struggle to complete this book, so maybe the meaning was just lost on me. I kept reading to see if there was some literary genius buried within, but unfortunately I never found it.

Virginia Woolf wrote this book in 1927. It must have been courageous for her do so at the time as it's all stream of consciousness and she lets the reader get a glimpse inside her thought processes. The very slight plot focuses on a vacationing British family and their guests and there's a constant interior monologue about every little thing.

The first part, entitled "The Window" is by far the largest section of the book and the reader has to plow though a complex web of the author's thoughts as she focuses on one detail after another using all her senses. True, she's a gifted writer and deeply explores the relationships between men and women, focusing mainly on Mrs. Ramsay, the matriarch of the family. It's as if everything is in the background and the only thing in the foreground is what she has in her head.

The second part, entitled "Time Passes" is perhaps the strongest part of the book. It focuses on an empty house and its details of decay over a ten year period. It is masterfully done.

The third part, entitled "The Lighthouse" is about the remaining members of the family, who come back to the house in order to take a trip to the lighthouse which has been postponed for ten years. It's all very symbolic and the reader is left to draw his or her own conclusions about the meaning of it all.

This is the only Virginia Woolf book I've ever read and although I can appreciate the skill of the author, I'm not interested in reading any more of her works and can recommend this book only for fans of hers as well as those with a curiosity about her writing.

"To The Lighthouse" is a portrait of the Ramsey family; a portrait "taken" as they are vacationing at their summer home on the rugged coast of Scotland. This is a very interior portrait, though, the most interior I've ever stumble upon in any book to date. For me, at least, this book transcends the barrier of time, culture and all else and speaks straight from the soul, something few authors have been able to do.
Two things struck me about the experience of reading it. One is that while I cant claim full understanding, I no longer found myself struggling with the form in order to read the book. The second is how much more booming the book became for me now that I'm older and can identify more with Mrs. Ramsey instead of seeing the book only through the character of Lily Briscoe.
To the Lighthouse brings the Ramsey family and the people they bring their wake to their home on the Isle of Skye. Families in the world of this book are little things. The first half creates the Ramsey family group so well that when the second half is without it, the reader is always aware of the ghost images standing in the empty spaces. We found out what has happened to the missing members of the group by a reunion with the ghosts of the past. Meanwhile, lily tries to understand the world shes in and make her painting by meditating about the ramseys and how much has changed in the world around them.
I beleive that Woolfs well known stream technique at its more poetic and influential than anyone else I have read. The boook is very beautiful and sad at the same time. I'll look forward re-reading it again in a couple more years. It's luminous, it's astonsishing, it's prizewinning. It's a book I think high school students should be made to read to really understand life at its fullest.