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    Thalia Book Club: To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
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    Thalia Book Club: To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
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    Thalia Book Club: To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
    Audiobook1 hour

    Thalia Book Club: To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

    Written by Virginia Woolf

    Narrated by Jennifer Egan, Siri Hustvedt and Margot Livesey

    4/5

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    Currently unavailable

    About this audiobook

    Back by popular demand, novelists Siri Hustvedt (The Blazing World, March 2014), Jennifer Egan (Pulitzer Prize-winner for A Visit from the Goon Squad) and Margot Livesey (The Flight of Gemma Hardy), the trio that has brought Middlemarch, Pride & Prejudice, Anna Karenina and The Portrait of a Lady to life at past events in this series, revisit Virginia Woolf's classic.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSymphony Space Audio
    Release dateMar 26, 2014
    ISBN9781467682312
    Unavailable
    Thalia Book Club: To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
    Author

    Virginia Woolf

    VIRGINIA WOOLF (1882–1941) was one of the major literary figures of the twentieth century. An admired literary critic, she authored many essays, letters, journals, and short stories in addition to her groundbreaking novels, including Mrs. Dalloway, To The Lighthouse, and Orlando.

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    Reviews for Thalia Book Club

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    • 3/5
      “She felt... how life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach. ” Now this is the first Virginia Woolf book that I have read but having done a little bit of research beforehand know that it is probably the most widely read and auto-biographical of her works.The book is split into 3 seperate parts 'The Window','Time Passes' and 'The Lighthouse'. In the first part the Ramsays, their 8 children and assorted house guests are all staying at their holiday home. On the surface it is the ideal family gathering but this is deceiving as their are seething tensions under the surface. A trip is planned but never taken to the nearby lighthouse. In the third part after a hiatus of 10 years in which Mrs Ramsay and 2 of the children have died, Prue in childbirth and Andrew in the trenches of WWI,the trip is finally made. The middle section tells more of the house than its occupants but it is here that the deaths are reported, in block brackets almost like newsflashes and somehow remote.Now as a male parent I found the overall message in this book rather troubling as Mr Ramsay is seen as strict, remote and always craving to be the centre of attention. It is he who interupts the well being of the family. He steps in front of a window interupting the intimacy between a child and its mother, he almost knocks over Lily's easel interupting an artist from the painting but primarily it is he who forbids the visit to the lighthouse in Part 1. In contrast Mrs Ramsay as the one who manages the fabric of the family endlessly knitting and matchmaking as she hates seperation in all forms. This too is seen in the author's syntax. Mr Ramsay's, when he speaks or the narator speaks for him, does so in disjointed sentences and random quotations whereas Mrs Ramsay's sentences are much more fluid. Even in death Mrs Ramsay her memory is still seen as unifying. Whilst this portrayal of parenting is probably true it is still a little unsettling to read.Yet the final part also shows that we are all also shaped by events of both present and past. There is a suggestion that the family as a whole will not truly be able to move on. A certain realisation that things are never so black and white.So why only 3 stars? Was it just my discomfort as a parent? Well quite frankly I did not really enjoy the whole 'stream of consciousness' style of writing and generally found the overall lack of action rather tedious. It got 3 stars because of its originality, pure and simple
    • 5/5
      A novel that deserves and demands the full attention of the reader, it is hardly surprising that To the Lighthouse might be described as a novel of and about attention. As the narration flits between Mrs Ramsay and her husband, their eight children, and their numerous guests all gathered at the Ramsay summer house on a Hebridean island, one thought leads to another, one observation spills into the next, one emotion peaks and subsides as another peaks and subsides like the waves endlessly rolling in upon the shore. And then there is the question of lighthouse on a crag of rock across the bay, whose light pierces the summer house and its inhabitants, ceaselessly. Will James, the youngest Ramsay, be taken to the lighthouse the following day?If Mrs Dalloway is the quintessential stream-of-consciousness novel, then Woolf’s next novel, To the Lighthouse, must surely be the start of something new, something even more intense, more challenging. Attention, or perhaps perception would be a better term, or even, as Lily Briscoe terms it “vision”, is the challenge. For it seems clear that it is almost impossible to really see someone, anyone. Even Mrs Ramsay, who is as much the centre of all that is as anyone could be, even for her, Lily thinks, it would take at least fifty pairs of eyes. And yet, the wonder of it is, that for some—the poet Augustus Carmichael, the painter Lily Briscoe, even the still beautiful wife and mother, Mrs Ramsay—the thing itself can be achieved. And it is an achievement when it comes. Even though it may disappear as quickly as it came.If you are willing to engage with this novel fully, if you can focus your attention sufficiently (don’t be surprised if you find you need to read it in small chunks), if you let the consciousness of the novel guide you as it sparkles across the minds of those characters arrayed before you, then this novel will repay your effort manifold. If not, then set it aside for a few years and try again later. It’s worth it. Highly recommended.
    • 3/5
      Once again, I discover how much I admire Woolf's observational skills and can't stand her writing. For some reason, I seem to need to rediscover that every four or five years.
    • 5/5
      It should be read and read again...no one can quite say she or he understands Virginia's mind but it's quite worth trying.
    • 3/5
      Sometimes I loved riding along in the characters stream of thoughts. I recognized characters in the others' perceptions of them. I was drawn to, and I shrunk away from. I enjoyed the beautiful writing. Other times, I had a hard time hanging on, especially in the middle part in which time passes. This is the first Woolf I've read. Apparently, I could've chosen something more accessible.
    • 3/5
      You know as you go through your day you have a million little thoughts about a million little things? Almost like a noise in the back of your head, all the time. Every single thought clammering for your attention. Of course you filter the thoughts and control the noise, you have to. Right?

      This story is like that, every thought of every character in turn demanding attention. There is no filter, no respite. If you don't hear everything you won't get the full story, so you have to read it all.

      I personally found that exhausting and not a particularly joyful reading experience. I feel bad that I didn't like it more as there were some truly beautifully written sections, but hey. That's okay.
    • 3/5
      Hmm, this book was a terrible choice for lunch breaks. It would have been more sensible to sit down and read it in a few sittings, so as not to completely lose the tenuous narrative thread.

      I enjoyed the lyrical prose and the contrast between the stream of consciousness chapters and the omnisciently narrated section in the second half. Also the punctuation - I will never look at square brackets the same way again. Also also, I love how you could write a book that explicitly dealt with questions like "What is the meaning of life" in 1927.

      Not sure I got an awful lot out of this challenging book the first time through, but maybe I will be due for a reread sometime.
    • 5/5
      Talvez o livro mais perfeito de Virginia Woolf.
      "He has landed," she said aloud. "It is finished." Then, surging up, puffing slightly, old Mr Carmichael stood beside her, looking like an old pagan god, shaggy, with weeds in his hair and the trident (it was only a French novel) in his hand. He stood by her on the edge of the lawn, swaying a little in his bulk and said, shading his eyes with his hand: "They will have landed," and she felt that she had been right. They had not needed to speak. They had been thinking the same things and he had answered her without her asking him anything. He stood there as if he were spreading his hands over all the weakness and suffering of mankind; she thought he was surveying, tolerantly and compassionately, their final destiny. Now he has crowned the occasion, she thought, when his hand slowly fell, as if she had seen him let fall from his great height a wreath of violets and asphodels which, fluttering slowly, lay at length upon the earth.
      Quickly, as if she were recalled by something over there, she turned to her canvas. There it was—her picture. Yes, with all its greens and blues, its lines running up and across, its attempt at something. It would be hung in the attics, she thought; it would be destroyed. But what did that matter? she asked herself, taking up her brush again. She looked at the steps; they were empty; she looked at her canvas; it was blurred. With a sudden intensity, as if she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre. It was done; it was finished. Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision.
    • 2/5
      This one is very difficult to rate. I try to use the Goodreads star labels as strict guidelines and I didn't think "it was ok"; however, I gave it two stars because I acknowledge that it's not fair to give it only one star just because it was mostly incomprehensible to me. It did have moments of brilliance, notably in the poetic language of the “Time Passes” interlude. I'm glad I read this, but I don't think I'll be attempting any more Woolf in the near future.
    • 5/5

      Virigina Woolf published To the Lighthouse, her most autobiographical novel, in 1927. She is said to have written it as a way of "understanding and dealing with unresolved issues concerning both her parents." Woolf's husband aptly coined this masterpiece, a "psychological poem."

      Like Woolfe's The Waves, TTL is stream of consciousness with concentration on introspection rather than speech or action. Its power soars in small gestures. Large events occur only as an aside, in brackets. Woolf avoids raw emotion, for the most part, dwelling more on interrelationships and qualities of mind and manners.

      Part I of the novel describes an afternoon and evening from one of the Ramsay family's visits to the Isle of Skye in Scotland around 1920. Descriptions were certainly inspired by Woolf's family rental of Talland House in St. Ives. In Part II, ten years pass and the Ramsay's home goes to ruin. This image mirrors the death of Woolf's mother when Virginia was thirteen. In Part III, over the course of a single morning, members of the Ramsay family revisit the house and travel to the lighthouse, just as Virginia had visited Talland House after WWI and her father's death.

      I was amazed by the weaving and rhythmn of the poetry pose and its ability to absorb the flow of my thoughts into the novel's scenes with much the same result as I experience while sitting, say, in a botanical garden. The meditation settles deep, expressing qualities, subtle and indirect, so gently they permeate rather than shout their illumination.

      Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay are middle-aged parents of eight children. While love has lost its bloom, they love one another in a needy and appreciative way. Mrs. Ramsay is beautiful, and is at once liked and disliked by others. Her children love her. The father is interesting, brooding, complex and disliked by his children, in general. The dynamic changes as the novel progresses, showing the intransience of relationships, and houses.

      My favorite sections belong to Mrs. Ramsay, and to the description of the house in ruins. The poetry and complexity wooed me beyond mere entertainment, and although I've given entertaining books 5 stars, I give TTL 4.75 stars because I use a different scale for magnificant, literay works such as this. The novel was close to perfection, but not quite. The last note, or fragrance, seemed off, a collaspe of an ending when I wanted, expected, something else. Perhaps life is like that. I look forward to reading Mrs. Dalloway in the near future.

      P.S. On a different note, I felt a bit sensitive to Woolf's portrayal of women's minds as vague and less capable than men's in areas such as serious thought, spatical relations, navigations, etc. Her female characters recognized some of their strenghts, but they held their accomplishments a peg or two below men. Bram Stoker's Dracula female characters were self-effacing in much the same way, as low in confidence as children. Such were the beliefs of the time, and it is little wonder that breaking out of limiting mentalties was and is so difficult for both men and women.
    • 3/5
      Finally managed to get through this and get something out of it. The stream of consciousness style is very difficult, possibly because the main characters are eminently dislikeable. The description of the empty house moving through the years is stunning, and easily the strongest part of the book.
    • 5/5
      Each time I read _To the Lighthouse_ I am reminded of Virginia Woolf's profound understanding of the human condition, or perhaps I should say, as Mrs. Ramsay does, "a community of feeling with other people." But even that's a reductive way of putting it, because I mean so much more: that reading this book is like entering into deeper awareness, feeling more alive. For me, this is her truest book, and it sets the bar for everything else I read. This is what is possible, that art can expand our notions of how we understand one another, of what written language can do that nothing else can. Were I to read only one book for the rest of my life, this is the one I would choose—and I could never exhaust it.
    • 3/5
      Well, now I can cross Virginia Woolf off my life list. That's the good news. The writing seems frigid, unwilling to tackle difficult feelings and conflicts directly. It's only at the end that some outright hostility comes to light (the son wanting to kill his father). Otherwise, the whole thing is bloodless and cerebral. I disagree that this is "stream of consciousness," at least in the Faulknerian mode. It's more a novel made up almost completely of characters' inner thoughts. This was probably quite radical in 1920. Almost 100 years later, it's dull as dirt. Note to want-to-be writers: don't write like this, or you will never get published. A two-hundred page book in which almost nothing happens, and people die off-stage for no reason...a good example of what NOT to do. Just realized I finished this and Confederacy of Dunces on the same day. Two books by suicides. I need to break this trend quick!
    • 3/5
      The style of writing in To the Lighthouse was intelligent, modern, very descriptive and quite long-winded at times. I believe Virginia Woolf may have used more commas in a few of her sentences than Jane Austen in Mansfield Park. I enjoyed getting to know some of the characters in-depth, being privy to their thoughts. The middle section of the book where time passes really bothered me. I don't much like change in my own life and I was surprised to read so quickly through the extremely drastic changes which come to the family after having spent so much time in their thoughts over one particular day. Looking back on it, it was an interesting segue into the second significant day described in the part three but I did not appreciate the time warp while reading it. It was an interesting character study and I think presented a glimpse into Virginia's own life, as the setting and characters were based somewhat on her family.
    • 5/5
      Is art an expression of human life, or is it a decoration imposed upon it? It depends on whether or not someone relies on art to bring him fame and greatness. Mr. Ramsay is concerned that no one will read his books, that he won’t be remembered by future generations. He is very insecure about his writing because he feels that no one needs him to write; no one’s life depends on whether or not he expresses himself through the ideas in his books. He worries that his writing is merely decoration and not necessary to the whole of human culture and existence. He does not write to express himself or to find some meaning in human life, but rather, he writes to ease his insecurities, to establish some feeling of self-worth. He only writes so that others will believe he is important. Lily Briscoe, however, does not paint in hopes of being remembered or deemed important. She is compelled to paint by the voice of Charles Tansley that continuously chants, “Women can’t paint. Women can’t write.” But she is compelled by something even greater than Tansley’s need to assert himself. Lily Briscoe’s paintings are physical renderings of her desire for unity, her desire to fill emptiness with shape, “the empty places. Such were some of the parts, but how to bring them together?” (151). She believes that connecting seemingly unrelated things and isolated people, reveals some whole truth and meaning behind life. Lily tries to connect masses within her paintings. The painting she begins of Mrs. Ramsay and James remains unfinished for ten years, until she returns to the house at Isle of Skye after Mrs. Ramsay’s death. She doesn’t know how the masses in her painting connect. She doesn’t know the best way to lay out shape, light, and shadow. She doesn’t know how to relate or fill empty spaces, but she paints to uncover these relationships. The empty places Lily refers to are the ones left by Mrs. Ramsay. She is the mass that light shines on, and everything and everyone else in her life are the shadows cast by the light hitting her form. Lily is angry at Mrs. Ramsay because she left behind empty spaces—the step she sat on, the kitchen table with the leaf pattern, and the old ramshackle house itself—with no clear way to unite them. Without Mrs. Ramsay, the house was “full of unrelated passions” (152). Her family came untied—there was no knot tying Cam and James to Mr. Ramsay anymore. To the Lighthouse, like Lily’s painting, is made up of three parts that connect to form a greater whole. The first two sections—The Window and Time Passes—contain empty spaces; these spaces rely on Lily, in the final section, to step back and view everything from a distance so that all forms can be seen at once. It is only when different viewpoints and different relationships are observed that the true meaning of life can be discovered. Love, culture, art, and poetry are created from human relationships.
    • 5/5
      It's better to know what you're in for when beginning Virginia Woolf's 'To the Lighthouse'. If you go in expecting another 'read' not only will you be disappointed, but you may also find it too difficult to continue on with. Foolishly, I wasn't ready for the book when I started it; it took me 70 pages before I 'got' it and I understood how to read the novel and know roughly what it was concerned with. Once this happened I realised why everyone claims that Woolf is one of the greatest female writers, in fact, one of the greatest writers regardless of gender. Besides from an interlude most of the 'action' of the novel takes place within the characters. From their thoughts and emotions we can piece together relationships and events. The further we read the bigger and clearer the picture becomes. The book is divided into three distinct sections with the first one focusing mainly on Mrs Ramsay. It is the dinner table scene that Virginia Woolf juggles so well, swapping between the thoughts of different characters and ending with a powerful, resonating line. The interlude, or second section is only short and is written to convey the feeling and theme of passing time more than direct meaning. In a sense it is poetry. It feels like writing that is above the reader's comprehension and this is what endows it with its mystique. The third section is more structured than the first but remains internal. The main character here is Lily the painter and it has been suggested that she represents the author. This would make sense as she is in a good position to survey the family (based on her own) and is also an artistic creator. What makes this novel so great is its subtlety. It relies on the reader to infer the story. While it doesn't possess the freshness of prose that Joyce created, it perfects the early twentieth century novel by destroying the typical narrator and using stream-of-consciousness to carry the story. Joyce and Woolf are seen as the leaders of modern fiction in twentieth century English literature and is it coincidence that both were born in the same year (1882) and died in the same (1941)?
    • 5/5
      Like Woolf's other works, "To the Lighthouse" is told mostly through interior dialog and introspection by its characters. This story is set at a married couple's summer home in Herbrides; they have eight children, one of whom is a six year old who wants to sail out to the lighthouse. They are surrounded by various friends and acquaintances, including an atheist, an opium addict, a childless widower, and a couple of artists. In the first part the trip is put off because of the weather and ends instead with a large dinner party. The second part of the book, "Time Passes", is masterful. Ten years pass and from the perspective of the empty summer home, the fate of some of characters and world events (notably WWI) are revealed. In the final part, the family returns and at last set off to the lighthouse.There isn't much to the actual plot, but that isn't the point; the "plot" is the interior struggle we all have grappling with life and those around us. Woolf is masterful at flushing out her major themes, which are the transience of life and the complexities of the relationship between men and women. Her stream of consciousness technique, as in Joyce and Faulkner, is sometimes hard to follow, but this book is well worth reading. Quotes:On meaninglessness:"What is the meaning of life? That was all - a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with the years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one...."On memory:"...this scene on the beach for example, this moment of friendship and liking - which survived, after all these years complete, so that she dipped into it to re-fashion her memory of him, and there it stayed in the mind affecting one almost like a work of art."On motherhood and children:"They came to her, naturally, since she was a woman, all day long with this and that; one wanting this, another that; the children were growing up; she often felt she was nothing but a sponge sopped full of human emotions.""Oh, but she never wanted James to grow a day older! or Cam either. These two she would have liked to keep for ever just as they were, demons of wickedness, angels of delight, never to see them grow up into long-legged monsters. Nothing made up for the loss. When she read just now to James, 'and there were numbers of soldiers with kettledrums and trumpets,' and his eyes darkened, she thought, why should they grow up, and lose all that? ..... Why should they go to school? She would have liked always to have had a baby. She was happiest carrying one in her arms. Then people might say she was tyrannical, domineering, masterful, if they chose; she did not mind. And, touching his hair with her lips, she thought, he will never be so happy again....""...children never forget. For this reason, it was so important what one said, and what one did, and it was a relief when they went to bed."On nature:"...so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts and seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again as she sat with the children the words of some old cradle song, murmured by nature, 'I am guarding you - I am your support,' but at other times suddenly and unexpectedly, especially when her mind raised itself slightly from the task actually in hand, had no such kindly meaning, but like a ghostly roll of drums remorselessly beat the measure of life, made one think of the destruction of the island and its engulfment in the sea, and warned her whose day had slipped past in one quick doing after another that it was all ephemeral as a rainbow..."On relationships:"Indeed he seemed to her sometimes made differently from other people, born blind, deaf, and dumb, to the ordinary things, but to the extraordinary things, with an eye like an eagle's. His understanding often astonished her. But did he notice the flowers? No. Did he notice the view? No. Did he even notice his own daughter's beauty, or whether there was pudding on his plate or roast beef? He would sit at table with them like a person in a dream.""At the far end, was her husband, sitting down, all in a heap, frowning. What at? She did not know. She did not mind. She could not understand how she had ever felt any emotion or affection for him. She had a sense of being past everything, through everything, out of everything, as she helped the soup, as if there was an eddy - there - and one could be in it, or one could be out of it, and she was out of it.""The truth was that he did not enjoy family life. It was in this sort of state that one asked oneself, What does one live for? Why, one asked oneself, does one take all these pains for the human race to go on? Is it so very desirable? Are we attractive as a species? Not so very, he thought.""She would never know him. He would never know her. Human relations were all like that, she thought, and the worst (if it had not been for Mr. Bankes) were between men and women. Inevitably these were extremely insincere, she thought.""It came over her too now - the emotion, the vibration, of love. How inconspicuous she felt herself by Paul's side! He glowing, burning; she, aloof, satirical; he, bound for adventure; she, moored to the shore; he, launched, incautious; she, solitary, left out...""She was glad, Lily thought, to rest in silence, uncommunicative; to rest in the extreme obscurity of human relationships. Who knows what we are, what we feel? Who knows even at the moment of intimacy, This is knowledge?"On the transience of life:"And his fame lasts how long? It is permissible even for a dying hero to think before he dies how men will speak of him hereafter. His fame lasts perhaps two thousand years. And what are two thousand years? (asked Mr. Ramsay ironically, staring at the hedge). What, indeed, if you look from a mountain top down the long wastes of the ages? The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.""...she must admit that she felt this thing that she call life terrible, hostile, and quick to pounce on you if you gave it a chance. There were the eternal problems: suffering, death; the poor. There was always a woman dying of cancer even here. And yet she had said to all these children, You shall go through it all.""How could any Lord have made this world? she asked. With her mind she had always seized the fact that there is no reason, order, justice: but suffering, death, the poor. There was no treachery too base for the world to commit; she knew that. No happiness lasted; she knew that."I love the feeling this evoked at the end of part one:"With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one past look at it over her shoulder, already the past.""Rubbing the glass of the long looking-glass and leering sideways at her swinging figure a sound issued from her lips - something that had been gay twenty years before on the stage perhaps, had been hummed and danced to, but now, coming from this toothless, bonneted, care-taking woman, was robbed of meaning, was like the voice of witlessness, humour, persistency itself, trodden down but springing up again, so that as she lurched, dusting, wiping, she seemed to say how it was one long sorrow and trouble...""...she could not shake herself free from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again."
    • 4/5
      Here's what I think is a bit of an unusual review, since I wrote the while I was still reading the book and had just finished part 2: Time Passes. Having finished reading it now, I found I had said all I had to say about it already:After getting through the first few pages, I began to pick up on Virginia Woolf's rhythm and voice once I caught on the her stream of consciousness, and greatly enjoyed the first part, which describes Mr and Mrs Ramsay and their interactions with their guests and children, the narration fluidly moving from one character’s thoughts to another. Then everything fell apart and I got absolutely lost when the narrative changed completely and was suddenly skipping quickly ahead through time. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. It would have been helpful if I’d paid more attention to the title of part 2: Time Passes, but the prose, always beautiful, became much more poetic and since I’ve never much understood about poetry, try as I might, it felt like I was swimming far out to sea in unfamiliar currents. Since it’s a short book and the third part (The Lighthouse) is closer in tone to part 1 (The Window), I’ll persevere and finish it. It’ll be worth my while even if I won’t have understood all of it. I don’t keep many books once I’ve read them for lack of space, but I intend to keep this one to read later on, when, having already gone through it once, I’ll probably understand it on a whole other level next time.
    • 4/5
      Rife with uncertainty, complexity in relationships, actions, and gestures; futility, entropy, battles to stake out identity and meaning amidst it, indefinable hope, and so on. Me likey.
    • 5/5
      It’s a masterful novel. Apart from the beautiful and lyrical narration that focuses on the inner life of characters- exchanges, inner dialogue, pervasive thoughts, and all that has been since labeled the stream of consciousness, I found the proportions of the novel extremely interesting. The structure of the plot has what seems inverted proportions. In a traditional plot structure, events, especially those life-changing or dramatic, would be given prominence in the plot, and the lesser events or no events really if we think of the inner life of the characters on an perfectly ordinary day, would occupy proportionally less space. Yet, here what we would take for the most dramatic events are mere en passant mentions and the inner life of the characters takes over the plot. Within those inner dialogues is the best rendering of a wordless exchange between a husband and a wife I have ever read.
    • 5/5
      On its most simplest level, To the Lighthouse deals with the kind of meandering hours spent at a summer house on an island and the desire to make an excursion to the lightouse. The story meanders in an out of the concerns and dreams and hopes of the people there, pivoting aroung the central focus of Mrs. Ramsay, who holds everything together. One of my favorite moments is the dinner scene, in which Woolf graceful shifts from one character's point of view to the next, revieling the tapestry of human emotion (in one instance, three character simultaneously think themselves unique in how alone they feel). It's a beautiful book and I can see why it's on the Modern Library's list of 100 Best Books.
    • 5/5
      As I've grown older, I've realized that Woolf is a pleasure best left for later in life, after the sheer novelty of experience has been burnished (or worn, depending on who you are and what's happened to you) into a soft, many-sided glow. Novels like Woolf's aren't the arduous, look-at-me fantod-inducing flummoxifiers that Faulkner (a favorite of mine, don't leave me messages about my philistinism!) shoved at us; they start, they don't commence; they flow with you or without you, they don't drag you along, barely above the frothing surface of the torrent of words*burp*Joyce*burp*; they move without undue fanfare from person to person, from place to place, and they never demand (or care, if we're honest) whether you're there or not.I guess it comes across that I'm a fanboy. Well, I am, so what?This is the novel Woolf considered her finest, though I don't agree with that assessment, being a partisan of Mrs Dalloway for that title. I think she felt it was her finest because she was so much in it; it was a means of exorcising the ghosts of growing up in the Stephen household. It's set in the same place that the Stephens spent their summers, and most of the events are identical to events in Virginia's young life. I am glad that the book succeeded, artistically and psychologically and materially; but I don't find in it the sheer, rapturous joy that I find in Mrs Dalloway.But it's not for everyone. Leave it alone until you're at a point in life where your own memories are soft and rounded; while they're sharp and painful, Woolf won't be likely to find room in your head to spread her soft cotton blanket of story.
    • 2/5
      To the Lighthouse was horribly vague and detached. It becomes especially irritating when Woolf makes it clear that she's doing this on purpose. There is no plot, there is only rambling. There are some great points throughout the book but they are few and far between and could be put into a few pages. Perhaps this a great insight into the female mind? You will enjoy this book if you love reading about another's challenge with being indecisive and having a low self esteem. Also, you will most likely feel like ending your life half way through.
    • 5/5
      I read this book for a class on Intellectual History in the 20th Century. It was easily my favorite book in the course. And it was stunning.
    • 4/5
      I think this is a great book to "study", but not terribly enjoyable to just read. As always Woolf does some amazing things through her writing-- in this book she shocks us with the Pre/Post WWI comparison (Part 2), and the character development of the Ramsey family members is pure genius. However, I found Lily Briscoe to be utterly boring and a good bit of the story is told through her eyes. Also, I was very disappointed in the ending. I wanted a bit more resolution or something more from James.
    • 4/5
      A second-by-second stream of consciousness tryptych, To The Lighthouse is not all that long but it is a demanding read. The Ramsay family (with eight children!) are at their summerhouse in the Hebrides. Like a slowly panning camera, the text drifts lazily over the characters in slow-motion - one can imagine time slowed to the point where you can see the flapping wings of a bee. This afternoon and evening they spend with their friends passes and in the second part of the book we have moved on into the war and the summerhouse falls into disrepair. Characters die or move on in their lives and the final episode finds them back at the house. The trip to the lighthouse is finally undertaken and a painting is completed. Its difficult to enjoy this writing but easy to admire it.
    • 4/5
      A confession: though I am a great admirer of Woolf as a woman and a literary innovator, I find her prose style virtually impenetrable. Particularly in Part One, I found the stream of consciousness style and the sudden shifts of narrator hard to follow. Often I had to re-read passages to work out who was speaking, which significantly reduced my enjoyment of the book.
    • 4/5
      A slow start, but once you're in then you're locked in. My book club chose this book because it was to be a review of the difference of the sexes. I read it to be more about the significance of importance we put on our lives or how we get so wound up in the moment and missing everything that really is important.Woolf shows the time wasted on such thoughts and missed opportunities to breath in the moment, really enjoying what you have and where you are. She does an amazing job of getting this point across in the second part where she moves 10 years across the pages, where the people are gone but the objects, possessions and mother nature remain. Then again in the 3rd passage where Cam looks from the boat and sees the cottage and its isle off the horizon getting smaller and smaller while the sea seems to engulf the little island and making it all look so insignificant to the overall horizon. Woolf does gives us some significance as she describes scenes of people past still being forever part of a place or moment that lives on in the rest of us. Upon finishing it, I immediately went back to re-read the first passage because initially I struggled to get through it. To the Lighthouse is a book that is better each time you read it.
    • 4/5
      This classic Virginia Woolf novel is such a "mood piece." Comprised of three major sections, To the Lighthouse is predominantly a portrait of the Ramsey family and its influential, beautiful matriarch. Most of the "action" (and I use that term loosely) takes place at a summer home off the coast of Scotland. Part 1 is a "day in the life" of Mrs. Ramsey, whose house is chock-a-block with visitors. She is a constant presence, caring for the youngest of her eight children, keeping a watchful eye on her moody husband, meddling a bit in young romance, and ensuring both timely, well-prepared meals and the general happiness of her guests. The tempo is slow, the imagery evocative, the overall feeling ethereal.Part 2 is a short section called "Time Passes," in which the next ten years unfold in factual narrative. And yet this section, which unveiled a number of significant Ramsey family events, had a surprisingly emotional impact. This was followed by Part 3, with the Ramsey family once again at their holiday home, picking up the pieces of a life gone somewhat awry. The youngest children, now teenagers, accompany their father on a visit to a lighthouse near the island. They are filled with teenage resentment, pent up over years of somewhat tyrannical paternal rule. Their emotions ebb and flow like the waves lapping at the side of their boat.And what happens, exactly? Not much. And yet, somehow, I was entranced by this family's life, from being made up of little separate incidents which one lived one by one, became curled and whole like a wave which bore one up with it and threw one down with it, there, with a dash on the beach (p. 47) This is a book best read, and re-read, and savored to glean new details and insights each time.
    • 4/5
      Mrs.Ramsey could see the thoughts of her husband, children, and others throughout her life, and by the end of the book I found myself looking closer at the intangible characteristics of my own family members and acquaintances. Virginia Woolf tells stories of the Ramseys, Charmichael, Tansley, and the Rayleys. Set in the years of WWI at a vacation home on the coast, life seemed so tranquil, but hidden in the secret lives of the characters a turmoil of emotions brewed. I especially tuned into the scene with Minta as she matter-of-factly handed tools to Paul on the side of the road while he repaired the car. It was a mundane job, an inconvenience, but there wasn’t much else she could do but be his friend in spite of their spoiled marriage. They were stuck there together, as they realized it was necessary to make the best of things in order to go on. Dialogue was seldom used to convey the character’s actions, motives, or feelings … most of the insight came from being able to transition oneself inside of each character’s mind, and then look out by aid of Woolf’s lyrical descriptions. The lighthouse, I thought, was a metaphorical replacement for seeing clearly. From the beginning, the trip to the lighthouse seemed unobtainable; hindered by the weather. And although Mrs. Ramsey had the “best sight” of them all, in the end Lily Briscoe and even Mr. Ramsey I believe had begun to see. As James and Cam, years later, finally reached the lighthouse with their father, the memory of their mother, straight and steadfast was there. “We perished, each alone..”