Of the many literary biographies I've read, only Peter Ackroyd's "Dickens" seems to me as "definitive" as Ms. Lee's terrifically compelling book. One finishes it with the sense, however illusory (see Janet Malcolm's extraordinary "The Silent Woman" for a convincing argument that it must be), that the Virginia Woolf found in its pages is essentially identical to the actual woman who lived and wrote and died. Anyone with even a slight interest in her must consider this book essential reading. I found it a real page-turner throughout its considerable length despite being unconvinced of Woolf's literary eminence (except for her sparkling correspondence) and finding her character unattractive (i.e. snobbish, frigid, a false friend, etc.) even by the usual standard for writers.

Probably the best bio of Woolf we are likely to see for some time. Lee has succeeded brilliantly and gracefully in that most elusive and troublesome task of capturing the "spirit" of another human being and then conveying that without simplification or reduction. What is most moving is that Lee allows Woolf her complexity and contradictions, her courage and cowardice, her generosity and meaness, without indulging in a sort of inconoclastic glee in smashing received images of Woolf as victim or feminist icon (or any other of the several and various "Woolfs" to be found these days.) Lee's bio is a stunning feat of sympathetic imagination and rational scholarship which ranks with the other "best" bio of the last 20 years or so, Deirdre Bair's marvelous and beautiful "Simone de Beauvoir." I am grateful to both of these writers.

I am taking this book slowly and am nearing the end. It is terrific and I find, on the days I take off from reading it, that I miss Virginia Woolf and want to go back to the "place" that is her life. I thank Ms. Lee for giving me a closer intimacy with Virginia Woolf.

Virginia Woolf does such a wonderful job of revealing the many facets of an individual. In this book, she applies that task to couples in love. It is a marvel that she not only identifies the many nuances of a glance, a word, a movement, but that she also conveys them to the reader in a perfect sentence. This book, unlike some of her others, seems written to appeal to a broader audience. It is "easier" than some of her other fiction, but is by no means a bore for Woolf fans.

Here is an artist at work, painting the nuances of the heart, creating living people, reacting to the subtleties of mood, ambiance, the weather, and external perceptions that make up how we live and who we are. No matter what you think of these people, you have a chance to live with them and understand them, feel their conflicts, their love, and their pains. Virginia Woolf is the ballast that offsets all the one-book-wonder authors, the cynics, the nasty moderns, and those authors who have given up on anything positive in the world. Like Shakespeare, her work will live on long after so many others are forgotten. That's because she offers us art, hope, vision, and the truth about our humanity. It's all here in this book, if you choose to read it.

Woolf portrays the fascinations of self-discovery through relationships with other people, and she also looks into the intricacies of love--are we aware of love? What is the importance of love in a person's life? Does one need it to be happy? Taking a peek into the answers of these questions along with adding delightful humor that made me laugh out loud made this book terrific. The characters are interesting and you can choose for yourself whether or not you like them. I would definitely recommend this book--its many levels are enjoyable for all ages and both sexes!

I'm not a casual reader. I have voraciously studied literature extensively during my life and I'm the only person I know that has read The Canterbury Tales for fun. I have been trying for a month now to read this little volume and I'm having a very difficult time maintaining interest. I wish I had read it during a college class to have the guidance of a professor enamored with Ms. Woolfe and the discussion of an interested class to give the novel perspective. I have enjoyed many of Ms. Woolfe's works long before the recent film notoriety, Orlando being a favorite, but I can't seem to immerse myself in the world of Jacob Flanders and have it make any sense at all.

This is the first Virginia Woolf book I've read and I can see why she is ranked as a great writer. Her writing is very dense and the prose reads like poetry. She writes Jacob's Room in the stream of consciousness style, like Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce. The stream tends to meander all over the lot, so just go with the flow. The reader hears snippets of conversation and characters come and go. We learn about Jacob Flanders, but in little bits, here and there, the way you learn about people in real life. The reader never knows what's going on inside Jacob's head. You observe Jacob the way you would in real life: from the outside. Size him up for yourself.

The novel is set around World War I and Jacob Flanders (FLANDERS, as in Flanders' Field--World War I's killing field) is one of that Lost Generation. The novel is dark, questioning the futility of life, but the language is beautiful and the emotion is stabbingly true. Definitely read it, but have something more chipper around to read afterward, lest you brood too much.

Some say that as we grow up,
we become different people at different ages.
but I don¡¯t believe this.
I think we remain the same throughout,
merely passing in these years from one room to another,
but always in the same house.
If we unlock the rooms of the far past,
We can look in and see ourselves
Beginning to become you and me.
Do you know where you were born? Yes, most probably in a room. Do you remember where you were brought up? Uh-huh, in most cases, in a room. Do you have any idea where you are going to die? Of course, most people would wish to be in a room. Dust we are, to dust we shall return (Gen. 3.19). Once dusty us get the passport of landing on this planet, the majority of our fellow earth citizens march to our another biological inevitability under the shelter of different rooms, like the snails. Fortunately, most of us will not realize this human bondage; besides, we take it for granted that freedom is something tangible like the apples in a tree. We can get it as long as we try and retry. Unfortunately, some of us are sensible enough to feel the invisible bars, so they resort to literature and presume that they could be set free in another world. Most unfortunately, they merely step from one cage to another. I am not saying the authors are evil-intentioned. Far from it. They just unconsciously lead us to a special room of their own.
Here are two examples to give the readers a vague idea what these rooms are like. Entering Dicken¡¯s room, one would be at once fascinated by the kaleidoscopic scenes in it. The tiniest turn would present the readers with a fabulous show on our life stage. Here we see happy smiles, weeping faces, regretful looks and clenching fists. No matter how dark the room might be sometimes, we would always see four big letters on the walls---HOPE. Isn¡¯t that what we live on and live for?
Then, in a hopeful mood, we gracefully knock open Woolf¡¯ Jacob¡¯s Room. All of a sudden, we find ourselves in the strangest place we have ever stepped in. EMPTY. That is the impression we get at the first sight. Where is Woolf? She has disappeared from the door silently. When our eyes get used to the light in the room, we only figure out some dim stuff on the walls. ¡°Listless is the air in an empty room¡±(Woolf 37). Some people leave the room at once in a rage: ¡°What is it all about!¡± Some of them linger for a while. Finally they shout exultantly: ¡° I see, I see. There IS a portrait of a gentleman on the wall. Some women surround him. Wow! What a romantic painting!!¡± Satisfied, they go out. Only a few left at this moment. They have been standing there for a long time in the same pose as if they had been frozen. Their eyes are glued on the walls and their gaze conveys a shocked and frightened meaning. What do they see? A monster? An accident? Or a turbulence? No, but more than that. They see life---AS WHAT IT IS. Where is Woolf? She is silently smiling behind the door.
What should they do? Run out of this room to another? No use. The next-door room is similar. Keep running? No way. This sort of room design is a fashion on this floor. A moment later, someone hear a terrible cry from the rooftop. Someone has chosen to meet his dusty ending earlier. Is ignorance really a bliss? Should we ignore what is real just because it is cruel and painful? Is that an escapist¡¯s motive? Not really. In one of Harry Potter¡¯s adventures---The Socerer¡¯s Stone, there is a magic tree. Once one falls in its tangled branches, no matter how hard he struggles, he will never be able to get out. The only way of getting rid of its hold is to---relax. If one relaxes his whole body as if nothing were around him, he will be set free at once. Those who did not go in Jacob¡¯s room do not need to regret for what they have lost, because they might regret more if they had. Those who went but saw nothing special are lucky, because they have spared themselves a later sting. As for those who did see what Woolf intended to show, frankly speaking, they have fallen into those messy branches then and there. To relax or not to relax? That is the question. Relaxation seems impossible and ridiculous at such a confusing, painful and struggling moment. How can we possible forget what we have seen and felt? However, the harder we fight with the branches, the faster we will sink. Therefore, better stop thinking further before being devoured. The human bondage is merely invisible. If we spare the trouble of reminding ourselves of its existence 365 times a year, we will be as happy as one could possible be. Down with those rooms! After all, there is only one room we wish to guard and cherish with our life---the chamber of our hearts.
Where is Woolf now? She has gone back to a room or her own, leaving us a room with a view.

A play in three acts, a very simple setting, and only four characters who live in a small, university town in America: a middle-aged couple, Martha and George. And a "young and innocent" couple, Nick and Honey. They all meet in a room, in Martha and George's house, very late one night, for a nightcap. And then...all hell breaks lose.

The play tears apart both marriages: the middle aged couple, who seem to hate each other and in the end turn out to be much more devoted to each other as it would seem. The young, seemingly perfect couple, who turn out to have lots of problems of their own. In three heart-breaking scenes, using dialogue that cuts like a knife, Edward Albee has written a masterpiece. He manages to give a clear-cut, honest picture of the reality of marriage, the reality of love, and the fears that go hand in hand with love and intimacy. At some point, in act three, Martha talks about her husband- and it's probably one of the best pieces of literature I've read:

"...George who is out somewhere there in the dark...George who is good to me, and whom I revile; who understands me, and whom I push off; who can make me laugh, and I choke it back in my throat; who can hold me, at night, so that it's warm, and whom I will bite so there's blood; who keeps learning the games we play as quickly as I can change the rules; who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy, and yes I do wish to be happy, George and Martha: sad, sad, sad."

What more can I say? just read the play, and if you get the chance, watch it performed in the theatre, too.

Considered by some to be Albee's masterpiece, Virginia Woolf presents all of the playwright's main themes in this tightly compressed play. In a mere three acts, Albee breeches social as well as physical masochism at its most malevolent while displaying its truth-revealing effects while exposing its subconscious motivations. As for other Albee-eque motifs, there is his presentation of truth verses reality, linguistics aerobics, and, as par, a heavy dose of black humor. Albee remains faithful as a master of literature in that he never lapses into didacticism even when his characters voice personal soliloquies. As an aside, the play does differ from the famous film in that the former takes place within the confides of George and Martha's household, thus keeping their guests, Nick and Honey, as metaphorical prisoners throughout the night. Perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the play, upon a close reading, is Albee's almost virtuoso execution of symbolism, especially Christian (comparable to Henry James). Highly recommended.

Wow. I never thought I could like a play so much. I had to read this for a class in college, so I admit that I didn't know what I was in for. I would've never thought that I would enjoy reading a play. This is a work of art with every line having meaning and significance.

A quick summary of the story without giving too much away: This is the story about an elderly couple who seem to hate each other with a passion. They're rude, loud, offensive, and insulting. When they invite a younger couple to their house, things quickly start to get out of control, while the elderly couple use their guests as sheilds and pawns in their brutal arguements and such. The story ends with a shocking resolution that will catch you off guard.

The dialogue in this play is so beautifully written. It reads like the way people actually talk. That is why I enjoyed it so much. It also enriched the characters that much more. Edward Albee did a magnificent job of weaving a tale that seems so realistic it's as if we are there at that house on that very night. There are no minor characters; everyone is important in a very significant way. It is refreshing to be able to get to know each character and the hopes, dreams, ambitions, and the conflicts that lie within.

I really enjoyed reading this wonderfully structured play. Much so that I have already read it at least seven times. It is a very easy read. And since it is mostly dialogue, it really doesn't take long to read. You could easily finish it in a day or two if you really put your heart to it. Even if you don't enjoy reading novels, maybe this is the solution. There is no lengthy descriptions of what color the characters' eyes are or what they're wearing. Just good old dialogue that will have you hooked from the very beginning. "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" is an outstanding play that will forever remain a true classic in American Literature.

John Irving ("World According to Garp") wrote an essay on Charles Dickens book "Great Expectations" in which he said that that book was the first book he had ever read that he wished he had written. For me the first book that I had read that I wished I had written is "Orlando" by Virgina Woolf. It blew me away. I had seen the movie version a few years ago, and recently found it in a bookstore, so I decided to check it out. It's subtitle is "A Biography" and although it is based (very loosely, I'm sure) on someone's actual life, it becomes clear to the reader that this is definitely a work of fiction. The reason that I enjoyed it so much is, well, let me put it this way...Charles Dickens and John Irving were and are storytellers, very wonderful, brilliant storytellers, but Virgina Woolf is (well, was) an amazing artist. I don't go for poetry that much, I'm a prose kind of guy, but "Orlando" for me, was the very best kind of poetry but written as a narrative. Read this book. And let me know what you think...

"Orlando" is such a playful novel, full of richness of characters and commentaries. Written as a love letters of sorts to Woolf's lover Vita Sackville-West, "Orlando: A Biography" follows Orlando from the years of Queen Elizabeth I's reign to late 1928, from the time he was a man to the time she became a woman. With this book, Woolf tried to give a fantasy life to her lover, where she could be a man and be her own person, instead of subject to society's ways. And by itself, it's such a gorgeous story! Especially with the fascinating asides where Orlando is addressing the reader.

"Orlando" served as my sweeping introduction to the incredible writing of Virginia Woolf. (For anyone who has seen the movie, do yourself a favor, and read this amazing book!) One is forced to wonder what sort of genius mind Woolf possessed; only a mind of the finest tuning could have produced such a work! "Orlando" is truly representative of superior literature and demonstrates the art of writing at its finest! No review does the novel justice...any topic imaginable is covered..of course, all is reviewed from the standpoint of five passing centuries and multiple backdrops ranging from the exotic to the droll. Woolf's treatment of sexuality, intelligence, consciousness, time, and the human psyche is poignant. "Orlando" is definitely worth the read. No matter the reader, "Orlando" is sure to be an unforgettable novel, its author's genius surely to be admired.

No, I am not talking about Ross' monkey Marcel from Friends. This Marmoset is Mizt, adopted by the literary giants Virginia and Leonard Woolfe. Through there richness, elegence and love for one another (and Mitz) we read a book detailing the biography (life) of Mitz. Via trips, memoirs and entries of diaries detailed by the authors in the written work. This is a delightful little book where we find that Mitz has a personality and is not just a monkey.
It is a charming, witty fun read, well worth a second or third read. Definetly a must for all.

I was on vacation and came upon this book the day before leaving Santa Cruz. I picked it up and something said "buy me" (had read no reviews, author interviews, been 'told to' 'she's hot' etc.). As my friend drove us back to L.A. I began reading Nunez's book aloud. I kept on doing so. I read for 4.5 hours until finishing. My throat hurt and I developed pains from talking aloud so long but... I could not stop, nor did my driving partner want me to (I read past the point where we were to switch!). MITZ is an inventive, intelligent, throuroughly researched and alive creation. Unlike Kirkus, I felt the historical positioning and the awareness of the times deepened the tale and made it, at times, an absolutely miraculous achievement of intellectual imagination. And can I say, that Nunez babe can write write write. Clean, pure, prose. I got on Amazon to write this and to order every other thing she's written. Nunez you are great! and HarperCollins put together a great looking book as well, a too often neglected part of the modern reading experience. Viva MITZ!

I'd read writings of Virginia Woolf and writing about Virginia Woolf but after reading MITZ I feel like I know Virginia Woolf better than ever before. To say nothing of MITZ who became so real to me....Unique and a delightful read.

It is perhaps a truism that Virginia Woolf's life has overshadowed her fiction, or at least stands a good chance of doing so. Much has been made lately of the fact that we almost cannot read Woolf without seeing her works through the lens of her life. That said, there is something interesting in the fact that she has become such a household name; that her personality DOES compete with her oeuvre for attention. People are fascinated by Virginia Woolf, for various reasons. Quentin Bell's biography is, I think, generally regarded as the classic work on Woolf's life. It is an incredible achievement, and the fact that Mr. Bell is Virginia Woolf's nephew makes it all the more fascinating and compelling. When he chooses to, he brings an intimacy to his subject that the reader knows is genuine. His remarks regarding his aunt's personality, her voice and looks, are vivid because of their first-handedness. That Bell's biography is not a family "tell-all" is, then, nothing short of astonishing, and is a tribute to Mr. Bell's intelligence and good sense. The Stephens family certainly has enough material in their closets to make quite an interesting read - and Mr. Bell does not skip over potentially "embarrassing" aspects of Virginia's, Leonard's or his mother Vanessa's lives. Nor does he present them in the sensationalist manner that a lesser writer might have scooped to. He is unfailingly honest; he is also respectful and fair. The deep love he has for his subject is evident; however it does not overwhelm the work. The biography is more a piece of scholarship than a memoir. However it is this delicious mean that makes "Virginia Woolf" such a compelling and interesting work. It does not indulge in literary criticism intentionally, however knowing the state of Woolf's life and mind at the time she was writing various novels cannot help but inform a reading of them. That said, it is not for the purpose of examining his aunt's books that Quentin Bell seeks to chronicle her life, I think. Rather, it is the force of Woolf's own personality; her intelligence and the world she moved in (for there is no better place to begin a study of the Modernist writers in general and the Bloomsbury Folk in particular than Bell's books). Besides being perhaps the most complete and evenly tempered account of Woolf's life, Quentin Bell's biography is well written, well documented and, as the best biographies should, puts us as close as we can perhaps get to the subject. We may not feel at the end that we "know" Virginia Woolf - what a ridiculous assumption to make under any circumstance! - but we have been in the presence of one who did, and who has allowed himself to step back far enough to see her and her life objectively. It is this simultaneous distance and intimacy that gives "Virginia Woolf" its authority and it's heart.

Well, after reading this exhaustive biography I think with more or less reason several things. Virginia Woolf was a woman of great intelligence but unbalanced and at the cost of her instinctive life, I think not homosexual as it's said, but mostly uninterested in the sexual part of life. She has the drive to justify this and she said a real artist needed to be nor man nor woman in order to avoid prejudices and to possess a clear vision of the real facts of life, a doubtful point of view because there are great artist with strong sexual drive straight or not. I believe she was surely not primarily so ill at the mental sphere, because all these medications as digital, symptoms as palpitations and physical exhaustion, faints, etc, are symptoms of physical or even social diseases, yes, with repercussion in the psychic life, added to the extremely exigent work of writing his works. For all that I believe V. Woolf was no so mad as it's commonly said and could be saved by a more scientific and modern medicine. Certainly, personal and historical contingences as the death of friends and familiars, WWI and over all WWII with the fear to the Nazi invasion of England and repression against Jews as her husband and intellectuals as herself could not be avoided although I believe by 1941 these fears were objectively less probable. I can' avoid a pity for this woman.

I read VIRGINIA WOLFE: A BIOGRAPHY by Quentin Bell after I had read several other books about Wolfe. I was pleased to discover that Bell included some of the more unsavory aspects of Woolfe's life even though he was a blood relative and wrote his book in an age that frowned on revealing "dirty" family secrets. I am referring to the presumed incestuous behavior of Woolfe's brothers towards Virginia and Vanessa.

Quentin Bell was the son of Virginia's sister the artist Venessa Bell. Virginia and Vanessa were the daughters of the very prominent English Victorian Leslie Stephen. Stephen married Virginia's mother Julia after her first husband Herbert Duckworth died. The brothers accused of incest were sons from the first marriage and much older than Virginia who was the next to the youngest child of Julia and Leslie.

Much has been written about the end of Virgina's life, how she placed several heavy stones in her pockets and walked into the river Ouse near her home and drowned herself in the early 1940s. As recently as last week on Garrison Keilior's "Writer's Almanack" on NPR on the anniversary of her birth this event was mentioned again as if it was the only thing she ever did of interest.

But Virginia did not take her life easily. She had survived some horrific events including the death of her beloved brother Thoby--her closest sibling, and the deaths of many other loved persons during WWI, as well as the death of Lytton Strachey her best friend. Moreover, at the time of her death, her London home in Bloomsbury had been bombed and Hitler was threatening to invade England. Virginia's husband Leonard was Jewish and they were both aware of what Hitler was doing to the Jews.

The most wonderful aspect of Bell's book is that he tells the complete story of Virgina's life--how she coped with sorrow and used her life experiences to frame her art. She was probably the most original writer of the 20th Century, and much of the glory that went to James Joyce should have gone to her. At the very least, she was his equal. She wrote in a 'stream of consciousness subjective voice' before James, but she wrote in an era when women writers found it difficult to become published. In fact, Virginia and Leonard started their own publishing press to deal with this deficiency. Even so, Virginia's work remained relatively obscure until it was "discovered" during the women's movement of the 1960's.

This is an illuminating, sad, and reflective book written by a man who knew and loved her. If you want to know more about Virginia Wolfe this is the place to begin.

This collection of essays on art and literature is wonderfully thought-provoking. Winterson's collection is a call for greater attention to art that makes a person think, that gives a person insight into a new level of reality - be it another culture or simply an alternative view of your own culture.

This book is great for writers, artists, and musicians in need of inspiration -- or a kick in the trousers. It defends the noble pursuit of art for art's sake, and challenges readers to demand more of their writers than purely story-driven plot. At times, Winterson admonishes those who read purely for escapist reasons with the excuse "oh, I don't want to have to think at the end of the day." Score one against television escapism, as well. There are severe consequences to the dumbing down of literature, as seen by the demise of independent book stores. As Winterson states in her essay "Writer, Reader, Words":

"If the reader wants the writer to be an extension of the leisure industry, or a product of the media, then the serious writer will be beaten back into an elitism beyond that necessary to maintain certain standards; it will be an elitism of survival and it is happening already . . . We seem to have returned to a place where play, pose and experiment are unwelcome and where the idea of art is debased. At the same time, there are a growing number of people (possibly even a representative number of people), who want to find something genuine in the literature of their own time and who are unconvinced by the glories of reproduction furniture."

While there are views expressed by Winterson that are even a bit too radical for me, she is always very logical and thorough in backing up her views. Anyone who enjoys reading serious literature or collecting original works of art (by either well-known or local artists), will be enthralled with this book. All others may find a serious "talking to", a tsk-tsk, and some food for thought.

Jeanette Winterson, writes in a very lucid manner on a topic that can quickly become an extremely nebulous and splintered subject. She begins with a story of her travels to Amsterdam, where she is haunted by a painting in a window. This never happened to her before, as Winterson was always a wordsmith. The unexpected discovery-the idea that a painting has the power to touch her so deeply and so powerfully-troubles her deeply and she cowers initially, as if she saw a ghost.

This anecdote serves to create the tone of the book, an intense and honest meditation into art and art making. Winterson, weaves us through her meditation through a very readable style and by using very general terms. She simultaneously addresses the novice, to those well versed in the concepts of art history and theory of art criticism. I say this because the questions, what is art?, what is the fuction of art?, why practice art?, are basic questions that can be addressed by all levels of understanding-and it is those questions Winterson addresses. Though she begins with visual art she reverts to her expertise in the form of literature. But, the concepts are easily translated into the other art forms.

However, in her opinions of what is beauty and what is art, Winterson can seem a bit idealistic in her views of art and art making. She professes to be a little out of sync with current society(her confession)-which could be taken as a person who revers the past and therefore is a bit 'old school' in her approach to the topic, however, she does not pretend to be a final authority on the topic either.

But,the 'beauty' of this book is it can be a starting point and a gentle guide for the novice into the ongoing conversation of art and art history as well as an eloquent reminder of fundemental concepts in a splintered conversation of art theory and criticsm.

I should explain the title. As Jeanette will explain within the pages, art not only /objects/ with our safe notions of what we consider to be good or normal to our perceptions, but also art is also an /object/ to be handled, manipulated, and explored by our souls, with all the effort we would put into whatever coporeal object our hands might hold and seek to understand.

Having told you this, that the title encompasses so much of the book, does not mean that it does not need to be read now. Much the opposite. Though almost every essay comes back to these points, some essays deal with the subject in regards to a certain book, or just the act of creating art itself. As an artist, as any writer/painter/poet/? is, I found this to be a call to arms, in a way, inspiring me by assisting my mind in delineating exactly what I wish to create. If you are creative, read this collection.

"Monday or Tuesday: Eight Stories," by Virginia Woolf, is an intriguing collection that holds up to re-readings. The copyright page of the Dover Thrift edition notes that the book is an unabridged republication of the edition published in 1921.

In many of these stories conventional notions of plot and character are apparently thrown out the window in favor of a dreamlike, experimental style. At times the stories in this book remind me of the work of Gertrude Stein. Woolf crafts some really memorable phrases and visual images.

The longest of the 8 stories, "A Society" (pp. 3-16) is about a group of women who form a "society for asking questions" about male contributions to the world. This piece has a rich satirical flavor; in it Woolf raises questions about female creativity and procreativity, the nature of fiction, and the impact of female literary artists.

Although at times I often found Woolf's writing obscure, I enjoyed her elegant prose style.

This book of eight stories by Virginia Woolf shows Virginia's mind at work demonstrating her "stream of consciousness." Each story flows from one thought to another asking different questions about life. For example, "The Mark on the Wall" questions the meaning of life and existence. "An Unwritten Novel" is about what people hide and what you don't know about a person you seat next to on an "omnibus." All these stories will make you look at life in a slightly different way.

This volume of short stories is a good re-introduction to an author most of us probably haven't seen since High School. The stories are engaging and thought-provoking, and the length is manageable even to someone out of practice with the stream of conciousness style. I carried this book to read between classes one semester and enjoyed the challenge of reading something better than standard leisure fare. This book made me want to see more Virginia Woolf. Well recommended.

First let it be said that while I love the film Orlando it is simply impossible to get all the themes and events of the novel into one movie, so I strongly urge all viewers, whether they loved or hated this movie, to read the book, Virginia Woolf's unique love letter to Vita Sackville-West.

The inevitable failings involved in translating a book into a film aside, 'Orlando' is visually exsquisite, the costumes and locations sumptuous and splendid, fully evoking the decadance and contrasting squalor of the centuries in which Orlando lives his/her life. The score perfectly compliments the surroundings, the atmosphere and the themes of each scene, and is beautifully composed and performed.

Though some have expressed doubts over Tilda Swinton's ability to play Orlando, the aristocrat born as man who turns into a woman half way through his/her life, I thought she was the perfect choice. I believe knowing she is a woman initially taints people's ability to find her convincing as a man; to me she played the part with great charm, amiability and empathy, and became even more charming as a woman - the character of Orlando at this stage in 'her' life becoming more rounded, more sympathetic, more knowledgable and Swinton captures that well.

This film does not follow the 'rules' of the 'real' world - besides changing genders, Orlando lives for 400 years and does not age a day. It is the story of a pursuit for life, for meaning, by one individual determined to discover what that means. Accept it, and enjoy.

In its attempt to capture the most important of the book's events the film does have a slight recurring bump in continuity, it seems, and will no doubt be pretentious and boring to some, if not many. Nonetheless, Orlando is a sometimes humorous, sometimes haunting movie, thought provoking and richly realised.

This is an amazing, ironic film, based upon Virginia Woolf's whimsically mock-serious epic about an immortal English lord, who experiences 400 years of history, changes his sex to that of a woman after refusing to participate in warfare (a feminist point that is subtly made), and never bores or condescends to us. What surprised me when I first saw it is how dry, boring and pompous it isn't; the film has a nice lightness and dry humor that make it digestible. The photography is beautiful and the film never drags, and the performances, which a lot of critics have suggested are somewhat two-dimensional, are that way for a reason: Orlando's adventure is too awesome to be rendered realistically; the people and adventures she experiences are meant, I think, to be represented symbolically---each character is actually a rough composite of perhaps hundreds of such types she meets in her journey from 1600 to 2000. Billy Zane, who is seen in the movie's poster, plays an American adventurer who romances the female Orlando, but to all of his "Titanic" fans, a word of caution: he's in the film for roughly twenty-five minutes, if that much. The real star of the show is the ethereally lovely, brilliant, and mysterious Tilda Swinton, whose male Orlando is unnervingly convincing; so much so that "he" almost seems to be doing a drag bit once the sex change happens---and because Swinton is so eye-pleasing and delightful, this is not a bad thing. Her intelligence and talent radiate from her face, which is so expressive that many shots consist simply of gigantic closeups of it---she can say more with a gaze than many lesser performers do with a page of dialogue. I first saw this film in 1993, as an exchange student living in London, and it gave me an appreciation for British history and for Woolf's books that I had never had before. It's really quite a smart, funny, cool, hip movie, but with no explosions, car chases, or hot-button themes, it's by no means a populist-type entertainment. If you like period films, or anything English, you'll dig this a lot: Orlando isn't just English, he/she *is* England, and the country should be so lucky as to be compared with Tilda Swinton's long-suffering (centuries of it, in fact, what a burden) poetry-spouting nobleman/woman. Very cool.

First of all, I have to say that I have not read Virginia Woolf's book on which this film is based. Ms. Woolf is not an "easy read", as her style tends to ramble a bit, and from what I understand, one could not literally translate "Orlando" to the screen. I commend Sally Potter for her adaptation of Woolf's novel. "Orlando", to me, is about a person's journey of self-discovery. As the lead character says, "The same person-just a different sex." There is a wonderfully sly mixing-up and playing with gender here. Orlando, an effeminate male poet who later becomes a woman, is beautifully underplayed by Tilda Swinton. I admire her performance, as it is played with a very subtle wit. Queen Elizabeth I is portrayed by that grand unwilling champion of gay rights Quentin Crisp, and the beautiful Billy Zane is treated as the "love object" in two scenes of lush sensuality. "Bronsky Beat"'s Jimmy Somerville, with his famous falsetto voice is here too, as a singing angel at the film's finale. His song, "Coming", is wonderful, stating that gender doesn't really matter here-"I am coming, I am coming, here I am, neither a woman nor a man." The art direction is breathtakingly beautiful, and Sandy Powell's costumes are remarkably accurate, spanning the centuries from Elizabethan thru Jacobean thru Rococo thru Victorian to present-day. Some may find the pace of this gorgeous film a little ponderous, but I found it to be an intriguing 90 minutes. We are all humans, individuals-why all this fuss about what a "woman's" role in society is, or what a "man's" role in society is? Virginia Woolf, I understand, based "Orlando" on a meeting she had with an Italian noblewoman who bemoaned the fact that she was denied her inheritance due to the fact that she was born a woman. Almost unbelievable, isn't it?