This is one of my favourite Hardy novels. As some others have noted, it's not one of the "big 5" but certainly worth reading. Hardy's descriptions of the woodlands are beautiful, and I found the ending to be one of his most unpredictable. I wouldn't recommend reading it if you are feeling down, as the ending is sooooo wonderfully tragic (hehe), or if you're not a fan of Hardy's prose style, but otherwise it's a wonderful read. Very personal as well. I got the feeling it was written just for me :)

This novel has received less attention in the U.S. than some of Hardy's other works, such an The Mayor Of Casterbridge, w ith its theme of the individual in tragic conflict with fate. The Woodlanders dwells on the needless sufferings and unhappiness brought on by class privelege. This is a subject always sure to raise suspicions of membership in the Khmer Rouge or the North Korean Secret Police here in the holyland of capitalism. But it is a beautiful work of art. Henry James and Jacques Barzun sneered at it because of its attacks on the upper classes. But that is a mark in its favor. Anything opposed by those two must be on the side of progress and human emancipation.

It's easy to see how Thomas Hardy became a wonderful poet after his long career of writing novels, given the meaty prose and superb scenery he conjured in "The Woodlanders." Tales of matrimonial and unrequited love compete for space amongst the bounty of Hardy's described woods, heaths and vales. "Woodlanders" offers some of the most complex and well-developed characters of Hardy's novelistic pantheon. Yet such stories of amor et fides, honor and self-sacrifice quickly become a backdrop when Hardy reaches for the woods of his mind.

I'm disappointed to see that this book is out of print, as I'd love to buy it for my sister.

The Waterall is a beautiful little love story, set in the aftermath of the birth. It's as though Drabble sat down and decided that she wanted to write a novel about doomed lovers and doppleganger cousins, but made it something completely fresh even as she left the tropes intact. Nothing in this story wraps up neatly, and the moments of grace that it details don't spare the protagonist from the drawn-out non-conclusions of the real world.

I didn't admire this as much as I did Jerusalem the Golden, and I don't find that it has the scope and reach of some of her other works, but it's still a compelling and affecting read. High recommend.

In Margaret Drabble's novel The Waterfall we meet Jane Gray, a woman whose suffering and blessings stem not from action, but from inaction. She prefers boredom over activity, chance over effort, and whatever happens to her over whatever she can make happen. She only falls in love by chance, a corrupt love she never tries to avoid.

Since Jane will not reach for it, love must find her. It watches and waits for her to recover from the birth of her second child. Jane, who drifted into marriage then drove her husband away with her passive disinterest, manages to (unintentionally) attract another man, with whom she falls in love. Their love develops not from a courtship, but from his childlike desire to lie in her warm bed, and from her passive inability to refuse him.

Jane takes us on a journey through her passive experience to an existential awakening. Though it would seem that a character like the one I describe here would prove intolerable, the talented Margaret Drabble makes us want to take the journey with Jane, and makes us want to see Jane finally discarding her passivity.

I consider The Waterfall Drabble's finest novel, and hope that more readers will discover it.

I am Swedish and I just read this book. I borrowed it from my local library in my own language, printed in 1988. I lived with Jane for several days, not wanting the book to end. It is very difficult to express my view on the book, (maybe)it turned out to be all about myself. I just ordered a used copy from Amazon.com in English, I want to OWN this book. Read it!

The ending left me completely unsatisfied. Drabble spends the entire book developing these characters, yet the book ends with no sense of completion or closure.

I typically do not gush when speaking or writing about a literary work, but rarely have I ever experienced so much heartfelt concern for the well-being of a fictional character. Drabble endows her main character with a fierce, albeit flawed, sense of individualism and self-sufficiency. She tackles burdens and obstacles head-on and alone, even when help was available for the asking. Drabble also coveys the conflict present within her. Rosamund considers herself a modern and liberated woman, yet she is still bound by the Victorian sensativities she denounces. Her lifelong seach is for true love, but only does she find it in the place, or person, she was not seeking to meet. Commentary: There was a painfully obvious correlation between the rise of the welfare state and the decline of the family. Rosamund could have never done what she did on her own without the welfare state operating in Great Britain, with no welfare state, she would have had to maintain close ties with her family.

I've just started reading Drabble and I loved this book. The writing has verve, the main character is very sympathetic, and her experiences with her child are wonderful. Dive in! She's great.

Although written more than thirty years ago Cocksure is still a startlingly fresh look at morality and the media; too bad it's no longer in print (..however at least here in Britain it isn't hard to find a copy at secondhand bookshops). Without exercising any form of restraint, Richler paints a modern world where prudes are ostracized and sexual liberation has gone wild. The book is quite rude, and so the easily offended should pass it by (..I think the title of the book is a fair warning of its contents).

The story is about a hapless middle-aged media man in London coping with a cheating wife, friends who falsely accuse him as being Jewish ("Jewish-ness", anti-semitism, and paranoia over anti-semitism are common themes in Richler novels), worries over his under-sized member, and a workplace overrun by very strange people. Society is morally corrupt (his kid's advant-garde school is really bizarre), and our poor chump always seems to come out on the losing end. It's a very funny read. However the story seems to move side-ways; nothing really exciting happens. Fortunately Richler's sarcastic wit has never been in better form.

Bottom line: a very rude and funny read. Worth a look.

COCKSURE is the wittiest, most amusing Richler book I have read so far. In COCKSURE Richler satirizes political correctness and reverse discrimination. In the world of the book, schoolchildren perform Christmas plays by the Marquis de Sade, and political correctness in general runs amuck. The protagonist is an open-minded Canadian Anglo-Saxon male who none-the-less feels that something is wrong when children perform works by de Sade and teachers freely perform oral sex on school children. Everyone should read this Governor-General's Award-winning book that shows the dangers of taking political correctness too far.

This is a hilarious book. Those who love satire should find this one somehow. Some of the passages are an absolute laugh riot. Only a Jewish writer could write such funny things about Jewish people. Gentiles will laugh too! If you like Vonnegut, you must source this one somehow.

Northanger Abbey is an overwrought, underpaced book - terribly dull by modern standards. The satirization of the novel of manners and the gothic novel forms is almost entirely lost on the modern reader who is unlikely to have read a single one of the 18th century popular novels Austin is constantly referring or alluding to.

The only thing that saves this book from the dreaded one-star rating is the strong characters. This was one of Austin's earliest attempts at a novel, but already she shows her knack for creating fascenating characters that would reach its zenith in Emma. The three main characters of Catherine, Belle, and Henry really come alive and actually manage to extract some genuine concern from the reader by the end of the novel.

What holds the characters back however, is the incredibly tedious pacing. The plot develops VERY slowly by modern standards. The first 150 pages are used mostly to describe a bunch of society balls and carriage rides, with only very gradual character development - the sparks don't start flying until volume II.

The bottom line is, Northanger Abbey may have been a *decent* novel for its time, but these days it should be read only by true Austin Addicts who are beyond all hope of recovery ;-)

In the first chapter of "Northanger Abbey", Jane Austen introduces Catherine Morland and pretends to apologize for having such an unromantic heroine. In the next few chapters, Catherine appears to live up to her creator's apology, while the author appears to forget all about telling us about the abbey for which her novel is named.

The presence of the two shockingly audacious and impudent Thorpes--John and Isabella--almost makes up for this. Never did I want to slap and/or kick two fictional characters more. The ways in which they try to foil Catherine's hope of romance with Henry Tilney--and arrange a marriage between the artful Isabella and Catherine's innocent, unsuspecting brother--are enough to make readers gnash their teeth. Ironically, the scenes with the charming Henry and his kind sister Eleanor ramble along in comparison to the explosive scenes "graced" by the outrageous Thorpes.

I liked the last twelve chapters better. Actually set in Northanger Abbey, they are a hilarious satire of the nineteenth century Gothic novel. Catherine stumbles into misadventure after misadventure (if I may be so generous as to call them such), thanks to her wild imagination and voracious novel-reading. It is wonderful to be caught in the excitement of a (pseudo) Gothic mystery that readers know is not real, but that they understand _could_ be real. It's the excitement of telling ghost stories around a campfire then trying to get to sleep. Everyone believes that anything could happen, though anything rarely does. It's nice, safe, thrilling fun.

In my opinion, Jane Austen was having so much fun herself, in writing these scenes, that she did not sufficiently develop the romance between Catherine and Henry. They have few scenes together and Henry's character is too agreeable to be as interesting as John Thorpe's--or even General Tilney's. (Jane Austen should have apologized for him instead of for Catherine. Henry Tilney is more a Mr. Bingley than a Mr. Darcy.)

Despite this, "Northanger Abbey" has the expected happy romantic ending--with the author still giving cheeky asides to the reader. I'd still recommend this book . . . but only after "Pride and Prejudice", of course.

While this was one of the last Jane Austen novels published, it was the first one to be written. I read this book before I was familiar with the conventions of the Gothic novel, but this book is a worthy send up of all of those conventions. Even if you are not especially familiar with the works of Anne Radcliffe or Monk Lewis, this novel is worth your time. The opening three pages which describe why Catherine Morland really isn't the heroine type are as funny as anything you'd read today. Other great passages are when Austen defends the reading of fiction in a passionate aside, and when Catherine becomes convinced that General Tilney is keeping his wife locked up in the dungeon of Northanger Abbey.

In this book, we have the beginnings of Jane's devastating wit as she tears apart society. We also have the benefit of some witty one liners, flighty characters and hilarious situations. (Of special note is the fact that it would seem that college men have ALWAYS been drinking and swearing type guys... although Austen discretely blanks out the 'dirty' words so as not to offend her readers.)

I used to rush home from work to read this book, and was not disappointed in it at all, from beginning to end. This is the best place to start with Austen (well, you could also read her juvenilia if you want... it is more silly than anything, but entertaining nonetheless), and it's definitely a fun read.

Anyone who gives this book a bad review has no class. Jane Austen is one of the most celebrated writers in history. You just have to get past the fancy words. Beneath that is a classic and romantic story. Sense and Sensibility is the best romance novel I have ever read. I would recommend watching the movie first, though, if your Old English vocabulary isn't very strong.

I had the pleasure of reading two of Jane Austen's books, Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, and loved both of them. Austen writes in such a romatic way that you wish you could be there in person to experience every word. Anyone who found the book to be boring, needs to re-read it again. It speaks of honesty, integrity and love that is lacking in todays books. Elinor in, Sense and Sensability, was a strong and smart woman while on the other hand, the younger sister, Marianne, was weaker but became a stronger individual because of the strong bond between herself and Elinor. Every young girl should read Austen's work because it protrays love as good and bad and shows that no matter how much someone can love you, there maybe a hidden agenda behind that affection.

Sense and Sensibility is an excellent book. When I started it I really did not know what to expect, and was pleasantly surprised. I will say though that this book is hard to get through at times, due to the old language used. But if you stay with the book, it will be worth it. The characters are wonderful, and you will find yourself wanting them to be happy. The Dashwood family gives a "girl power" message that makes it even easier to enjoy. Also, this book is easy to relate to, for everyone has known a Maryanne or Elinor before, maybe you are like one of them. I could identify with Maryanne, because I am involved in everything (and love it all) and I know I share my feelings too much. Although this book will be enjoyed more by young females, anyone would like it, for it also has a lot of humor in it used to display the dramatic situations the Dashwood sisters keep finding themselves in. The book became even more enjoyable when I saw the movie, seeing this amazing book acted out was great. I believe all of Jane Austen's books are worth reading, this one especially!

Disliking an Oxford Press book makes me feel like a heretic. The majority of their Companion books are superb, remarkably concise yet thorough works of scholarship. The English Companion is an unfortunate and surprising exception.

The entry for 'New Criticism' is an efficient example of the book's shortcomings. For one thing, there's a laundry list of authors, dates, and books but very little is said of the IDEAS that characterize New Criticism. The entries are generally hamstringed by a focus on the sociopolitical and historical aspects of writers and works. The effort is laudable but inappropriate and uneconomical for a reference work. In its most extreme form, the historical emphasis goes into bizarre detail about an author's upbringing -- is it really necessary that we know where an author went to grade school and when? Entries love to entertain tales of writers' deaths and and of their insignificant travellings. I often felt as though I were reading minibiographies.

One will also notice, in the case of 'New Criticism', the absence of any mention of the 'organic'. This is ridiculous and indicative of the book's lack of attention to concepts as such. There is a non-cross-referenced mention of 'organic' under Coleridge, yet even there it is only mentioned as one of his ideas, not in terms of what the theory tried to say. I would compare it to someone's asking, 'What does X mean?' This book's reply: 'X was one of so-and-so's ideas'. Too often, the response ends there. Literary theory entries are usually on the thin side, though the deconstruction essay is solid. However, even in the longest lit theory essays there is more of an emphasis on people and movements -- far less on ideas.

Along with the lack of depth (or conceptual emphasis), there's little sense of the overall significance of ideas, works or characters (ironic given the attempts at a social-historical approach): Caliban is mentioned in the Tempest entry, and even gets his own paragraph elsewhere, but there's nothing about his character as it's been re-elaborated and re-invented by a long tradition of English writers (Auden, Browning, Joyce, and Wilde for starters). There's nothing about Caliban's portrayal in that tradition, nor mention of Caliban's mirror, etc. Under 'hubris' (which is found, in turn, under a terse account of 'the Poetics'), there's nothing about Icarus, nor is there anything about hubris as a specific theme in so many works.

Speaking of hubris, it's baffling to me that Drabble's entry is longer than either Hill's or Heaney's. The general editor would have been better off focusing more of her energy on other writers: that expansive babbling space could have been put to stronger use had a more thorough background been given on either of those poets, among others.

Readers seeking to understand why an author alludes in his work to a character or poet will be little helped by nebulous terms like 'icily poised' or 'sensuously textured', which are more suggestive of gastronomic, rather than literary, criticism. To my mind a reference's primary function should be to offer a quick source of the 'essentials' of a book or of a writer's ideas, an understanding of which would illuminate one's reading of the alluding work. While I appreciate that entries shy away from 'this or that' critiques or strict (canonical) interpretations, giving lists of facts does an injustice to the works themselves and to the way these works have been interpreted by others. (Believe it or not, people CAN come to their own conclusions even after being introduced to an opinion.)

The book's scope is appropriate to literature, as literature tends to allude to so many disparate disciplines. But if one were truly trying to give an encyclopedic account of literature, the book would have to be much bigger. In this case, specialization suffers. I would have preferred a much more focused account of 'literature' as such; I'd then supplement this with other references focused, for example, on English history. One gets the sense that too many entries end up attenuated in this book.

On the positive side the plot summaries are strong and more nuanced, though many entries are badly written (full of odd, obscuring, convoluted syntax). Again, good editorship would have recognized this.

The book primarily succeeds as an enervated survey. Nevertheless, readers will occasionally happen upon some interesting, well-summarized topics.

I'm going to check out the Cambridgean counterpart to the Oxford Companion, and I'm hoping it will give a more in-depth account of ideas and themes. The other Oxford Companions are, however, truly amazing works and deserve a close look.

An excellent resource of information about English works of art

This is one of the most practical reference books in my home library. I turn to it again and again for plot summaries and information about authors. I also find it useful for pre- (and post-) theater reading. And of course it's a real boon for solving the Sunday Times crossword puzzle.

A must-have for anyone who considers themself a reader.

I have been a Drabble reader for many years. When I discovered through a friend that A.S. Byatt and Drabble were sisters, I began to wonder about what it must have been like growing up in that house. How/why did daughters of the same parents grow up to be so different? Dr. Bokat's book gives insight mostly into Drabble and the pschology behind her work (fascinating how it fits so well with Freud and his followers' theories!) but also delves into the sisters' relationship with eachother and their parents. An academic read, to be sure, but written very accessibly.

Like all devoted lovers of Jane Austen, I have long pondered why she chose to write this, of all books, at time she was experiencing the intoxicating success of Pride and Prejudice.

The protagonist is a loathesome little priss. Austen herself says so in her letters. Fanny Price is neurotic and oversensitive where Austen's other heroines are brash and healthy. Even Austen's own family found the ending as odd and disappointing as do subsequent generations of readers.

So there's a puzzle to be solved here. The answer may lie in the fact that this book was written when, after a lifetime of obscurity, Austen found herself, briefly, a huge success. As is so often the case with writers, the success of her earlier book may have given her the courage to decided write about something that REALLY mattered to her--and what that was was her own very complex feelings about the intensely sexual appeal of a morally unworthy person.

This topic, the charm of the scoundrel, is one that flirts through all her other books, usually in a side plot. However, the constraints of Austen's day made it impossible for her to write the story of a woman who falls for a scoundrel with a sympathetic viewpoint character.

So what I think Austen may have decided to do was to write this story using Edmund--a male--as the sympathetic character who experiences the devastating sexual love of someone unworthy. Then, through a strange slight of hand, she gives us a decoy protagonist--Fanny Price, who if she is anything, is really the judgemental, punishing Joy Defeating inner voice--the inner voice that probably kept Jane from indulging her own very obvious interest in scoundrels in real life!

In defense of this theory, consider these points:

1. Jane herself loved family theatricals. Fanny's horror of them and of the flirting that took place is the sort of thing she made fun of in others. Jane also loved her cousin, Eliza, a married woman of the scoundrelly type, who flirted outrageously with Jane's brother Henry when Jane was young--very much like Mary Crawford. The fact is, and this bleeds through the book continuously, Austen doesn't at all like Fanny Price!

To make it more complex, Fanny's relationship with Henry Crawford is an echo of the Edmund-Mary theme, but Austen makes Henry so appealing that few readers have forgiven Austen for not letting Fanny liven up a little and marry him! No. Austen is trying to make a case for resisting temptation, but in this book she most egregiously fails.

2. Austen is famous for never showing us a scene or dialogue which she hadn't personally observed in real life, hence the off-stage proposals in her other books.

Does this not make it all the more curious that the final scene between Edmund and Mary Crawford in which he suffers his final disillusionment and realizes the depths of her moral decay comes to us with some very convincing dialogue? Is it possible that Jane lived out just such a scene herself? That she too was forced by her inner knowlege of what was right to turn away from a sexually appealing scoundrel of her own?

3. Fanny gets Edmund in the end, but it is a joyless ending for most readers because it is so clear that he is in love with Mary. Can it be that Austen here was suggesting the grim fate that awaits those who do turn away from temptations--a lifetime of listening to that dull, upstanding, morally correct but oh so joyless voice of reason?

We'll never know. Cassandra Austen burnt several years' worth of her sister's letters--letters written in the years before she prematurely donned her spinster's cap and gave up all thoughts of finding love herself. Her secrets whatever they were, were kept within the family.

But one has to wonder about what was really going on inside the curious teenaged girl who loved Samual Richardson's rape saga and wrote the sexually explicit oddity that comes to us as Lady Susan. Perhaps in Mansfield Park we get a dim echo of the trauma that turned the joyous outrageous rebel who penned Pride and Prejudice in her late teens into the staid, sad woman when she was dying wrote Persuasion--a novel about a recaptured young love.

So with that in mind, why not go and have another look at Mansfield Park!

I don't know what book the other reviewer read, but it couldn't have been "Mansfield Park." "Mansfield Park" is a political satire according to some, and I think there's reason to believe this assessment. According to Jane Austen, "Mansfield Park" is about ordination (some dispute here, but she wrote it in a letter). Ordination comes from the word "order" and given the events in Europe at the time order was a major issue.

Jane Austen's father had 'interests' in the West Indies from which he derived income, and he was very pleased the British Government (Tories) defended these colonies and kept them from joining in the American Revolotion. Jane Austen had two naval brothers who served as part of the effort to keep the English interests en tact. In "Persuasion" a discussion at dinner one evening centers around the West Indies--and the talk is not about slavery. Like it or not, Jane Austen's conscience about slavery did become manifest until she wrote "Emma" and even then she barely touched on the subject. Jane Austen's main concerns involved the lives of women and their place in society. And we have no right to judge her from our perspective 200 years later.

Jane Austen was a Tory at the time she wrote "Mansfield Park." The Tories were a conservative party that backed the English king and he had no interest in seeing English colonies in the West Indies--from which he derived income--disappear. The Tories were landed gentry (country aristocrats) and did not want their old agrarian way of life abolished. It was under threat from the Industrial Revolution, and other social change. The Tory opposition party was Whig. Whigs supported the American and French Revolutions, and wanted change (the Abolutionists were mostly Whig).

Jane Austen's "Mansfield Park" symbolizes the old agrarian landed gentry way of life. Portsmouth (where Fanny's mother lives) represents the chaos of the masses. London (home of the Crawfords) is an interesting but dangerous way of life.

Fanny is a very moral girl. My only complaint of Fanny is that I wanted her to stand up for herself--which she does. She always did, she just didn't do it the way we women who have been emancipated would. Critics from Lionel Trilling to Tony Tanner have defended Fanny's right to be Fanny--i.e. a moral and good girl of her times. We who are caught up in the modern world may not appreciate Fanny, but there she is--and who dares judge her?

Fanny holds the course (like the Tories). She is the voice of morality who objects to the London stage play the other youngsters at Mansfield Park stage in the absence of Mr. Bertram (the lord of the manor and the upholder of virtue). Fanny will not be coerced into violating her principles. She will not marry Mr. Crawford because she can see he is immoral. She chides Edmund to stay on the straight and narrow. She facilitates Edmund's remaining on the path to ordination. Say what you will, Fanny gets her man, and she gets him the way she wants him. Was Janie spoofing us all along? Was Fanny right?

As Jane Austen's most controversial novel, Mansfield Park continues to occupy an inveterate place in literature for its dark charm, its slow yet steady rhythm, its dry yet sharp and ironic humor, and of course fabulous charaterization built on extensive description all within a country challenged by progress.

Readers become acquainted with Fanny Price, a victorian era Cinderella so it appeared--plucked from her family in destitude to be allowed to blossom at her wealthy uncle's house, Mansfield Park. Of course being passive, steadfast, timid...certainlly lacking the very fierce which makes Emma and Marrianne among other Austen heroine memorable. Yet withstanding the seductive charm of fortune and of consequence, Fanny Price resists the wooing of a stranger Mr. CRawford who puzzles everyone with his light gallantry and dark desires. A soulmate since childhood, Fanny's cousin Edmund yields in to Miss Crawford, who is all but a nonessential part of Mr. Crawford's scheme of stolen pleasure. Henry Crawford, certainlly one of the darknest characters ever portrayed, more so then Willoughbe (excuse the sp.) is too caught up in the sensual delights of his incessant conquests (including Fanny's 2 pretty cousins) that even though he ackowledges the good influence Fanny's purity has on his heart, he is too deeply sunken in his web of "play" to rise and face truth of love. Yes, Henry Crawford did love Fanny with his heart, at least the pure part of it, unlike Edmund who loves Fanny only out of brotherly affection. But Fanny, whose steady character makes her an unlikely candidate to Crawford's actual reformation, refuses Crawford's sincerity and thus almost pushes him back into his bottomless hold of scheme. The storm thus takes place in the heart of London's upper society, casting its shadow on the peaceful Mansfield Park community and shattering everything Sir Thomas has persevered in building up--with fortune, and with consequence...a mention of slave trade as well.

Mary Crawford is a complex player, tainted by a society blindly wooing money and status, that even Edmund is not able to save the good side of her. Apart from Henry's scheme, Edmund is forced to refocus and, voila, there is Fanny (no matter how distasteful cousin-courtship is to many).

The movie adaptation of this tale certainlly emphasizes the fighting nature of Fanny which is rarely detected on pages. Yet what IS acknowledged and admired in the quiet little herione, is the perseverance so rare in a world on the verge of revolution.

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.

I've discovered a little secret to reading Virginia Woolf -- it takes time.

It is practically impossible to read this book in little ten-minute spots, while watching television or babysitting. Don't try it; you'll end up not liking it.

It needs your time. Give it an hour with no interruptions. Get a bag of pistachios and read. Unplug the phone, turn off the TV. Read and don't stop. Then you'll discover the joy of Virginia Woolf -- for while her prose is tough, it is haunting, beautiful, and real.

Once you've settled into it, you'll discover a wonderful book, a tale of everyday life lived. Both intensely personal and incredibly universal, this book is life itself.

So, you want the real review. Alright, it's the story of a beach house, where reside the Ramseys and their various friends. Mrs. Ramsey is a goddess and nearly everyone worships her. This is more fun to read than it sounds. Lily Briscoe is a painter trying to figure out what she sees and what she loves.

There is a brutal twist in the middle, and the rest of the book is coping with that. No, I won't tell you what it is. Go read the book. It's great.

It's about beauty, about the incredible tragedy of time passing, about art and the world, about love and marriage, about people. It's not only a book about life, it is a book of life itself.

So maybe it's not written for our 30 second commercial, read at the bus stop age.

Art of such consequence as this makes demands on its audience, but the return is colossal. This is an extraordinary book. It is at least as much poem as tale, as much music as prose. It will certainly change your idea about limitations of expression. For readers who require signposts of plot to trigger their perception of information, and who don't find it easy to appreciate the subtle flavours of words, be warned: you will need to depend very heavily on your inner ear, to allow some of the more exquisite sensations of language to wash in of their own accord. (Other reviewers have hinted here at the role of reading skills in our understanding.) It is possible though, by such openess, to develop a reliable method of perceiving and pulling ideas which is not at all the way we are so used to guzzling and then spitting them out, in our late 20th century consumerist addiction to news media sensation. A good book makes you want to write and speak, to learn how language can serve you. Woolf gently turns the relationship between events in time and the play of human feeling on its head in the search for universal truth. I read it the first go in two or three bites because it's flavours are so rich and I did not want to miss anything by failing to savour them properly. I'll always revisit it to learn and feel more and to be enriched further. This is not an Oprah book.