PSA the waves

[felinejumper]

I just finished The Waves (V. Woolf) and cried my way through the entire last section. I am, as usual, struck dumb by her, and thus have no more articulate commentary at this time. I really loved this section, though, and the return of hope and light and beauty after a moment when the soul is erased. I just. I cannot.

How then does light return to the world after the eclipse of the sun? Miraculously. Frailly. In thin stripes. It hangs like a glass cage. It is a hoop to be fractured by a tiny jar. There is a spark there. Next moment a flush of dun. Then a vapour as if earth were breathing in and out, once, twice, for the first time. Then under the dullness someone walks with a green light. Then off twists a white wraith. The woods throb blue and green, and gradually the fields drink in red, gold, brown. Suddenly a river snatches a blue light. The earth absorbs colour like a sponge slowly drinking water. It puts on weight; rounds itself; hangs pendent; settles and swings beneath our feet.

'So the landscape returned to me; so I saw the fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me, but now with this difference; I saw but was not seen. I walked unshadowed; I came unheralded. From me had dropped the old cloak, the old response; the hollowed hand that beats back sounds. Thin as a ghost, leaving no trace where I trod, perceiving merely, I walked alone in a new world, never trodden; brushing new flowers, unable to speak save in a child's words of one syllable; without shelter from phrases--I who have made so many; unattended, I who have always gone with my kind; solitary, I who have always had someone to share the empty grate, or the cupboard with its hanging loop of gold.

Comments

[little_brisk]

Two summers ago I began the project of reading the Woolf corpus in chronological order as published in her lifetime (excluding periodical publication), and I slowed down halfway through largely I think because I am full of trepidation about the approach to the thirties but mainly, let us be honest with ourselves, the approach to The Waves which I first read at I think about nineteen and then again in the second-worst summer of grad school mental illness, and I remember then, the second summer, asking myself if I would remember that as the summer of The Waves and I do, and I do not know what it will be like to go through it again.

Anyway, constitutional Rhodaishness aside (and the uncomfortable resonance of Bernard and his phrases), it's Susan at the start, Susan and her little petal-boats, that absolutely fucking slays me.

[felinejumper]

I remember then, the second summer, asking myself if I would remember that as the summer of The Waves and I do, and I do not know what it will be like to go through it again.

That's really, really real. I am still consuming new-to-me Woolf and thus haven't re-read anything besides Room, but she is so clearly strengthened by re-reading that it is very much a question of: do I want my whole being dredged up from the sea and shaken loose this week? Hmm.

!¡! Petal boats !¡! I loved, oh, so much of all of it (clearly), but the foundering boats and the caverns and Susan's ship alone was not quite heartbreaking and not quite delightful, but something in that arena of words.

[fosfomifira]

I’ve always meant to read Virginia Woolf. Where would be the best place to begin? Because that section you quoted killed me.

[felinejumper]

WELL, get ready to have that exact same reaction approximately 15,000 more times! And also for any writing you do to pick up a *lot* of em-dashes and metaphors and loneliness.

With the caveat of being a comparative Woolf newbie as well: I read Mrs. Dalloway first, which is usually recommended as a starting point, and one I echo. It's a more refined Woolf than her first novels, but not nearly as stylized/ambitious as Waves (which I would, incidentally, *not* recommend as a starting point). I think the main thing to keep in mind is actually that Woolf requires work to read. Not note taking (although I do that, too), it just is both emotionally and intellectually strenuous, and (for me, at first) it felt like I couldn't quite get access to the narrative flow unless I really committed. At the same time, don't worry, you're not going to get everything on the first read through, and it will still be a deeply felt experience of living.

Regardless, please let me know how it goes when/if you dive in!!!

[fosfomifira]

Thank you so much for the recommendation! Unfortunately it’s harder than it should be to find a version of Mrs Dalloway in English. I don’t trust translations, not when it comes to this kind of prose. I hope I’ll find a copy soon, as i have long flights and long bus rides in my future, just the kind of experience that calls for a book like this.

I love stories that reward rereading. In fact, I tend to reread just about everything. First reading is just to get a taste of the prose and the plot, subsequent readings are about enjoying the experience.

[felinejumper]

I'm immediately like "LET ME MAIL YOU A COPY" and...honestly, depending on where in the world you are, it would delight me to be able to say "I shipped someone a copy of Mrs. Dalloway." But no pressure either way! (It's also available digitally, either as an epub here or as a boring .txt here)

emotes about rereading Yeah, this past year has been an amazing education in differentiating between the prose/plot and the experience of the book; I keep being grateful that 5 year old me practiced reading enough that [current age] me can have the joy of revisiting books. If you have any recs that have doubly served re-reads, please send them my way!

[fosfomifira]

So sorry that it’s taken me this long to reply, but I ave the ePub file safely sorted away for me to read. I’ll definitely ask for a paper copy of the book if I can’t find one.

I’ll definitely our together a list of reread-worthy books. I rarely reread a whole book, though. Sometimes it’s particular sections that really captured me and I go back to time and time again. Sometimes I’ll find myself rereading an entire book without even noticing. Oops?