Mrs. Dalloway

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Overview

This novel explores the hidden springs of thought and action in one day of a woman's life, a day that is also the last day of a war veteran's life. Direct and vivid in her account of the details of Clarissa Dalloway's preparations for a party she is to give that evening, Woolf ultimately manages to reveal much more; for it is the feeling behind these daily events and their juxtaposition with the journey to suicide of Septimus Smith that gives Mrs. Dalloway its texture and ...
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1982 MASS MARKET PAPERBACK New 2253030589 Thematic: Litterature generale. Language: French. Format: Poche. Ed: LGF (10/13/1982) Weight: 143g. / 0.32lbs Great Customer Service! ... Shipped by courier tracking. *****PLEASE NOTE: This item is shipping from an authorized seller in Europe. In the event that a return is necessary, you will be able to return your item within the US. To learn more about our European sellers and policies see the BookQuest FAQ section***** Read more Show Less

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Mrs Dalloway (Collins Classics)

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Overview

This novel explores the hidden springs of thought and action in one day of a woman's life, a day that is also the last day of a war veteran's life. Direct and vivid in her account of the details of Clarissa Dalloway's preparations for a party she is to give that evening, Woolf ultimately manages to reveal much more; for it is the feeling behind these daily events and their juxtaposition with the journey to suicide of Septimus Smith that gives Mrs. Dalloway its texture and richness.

Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway is the inspiration for Michael Cunningham's The Hours, the award-winning novel and Oscar-nominated film.

A 1925 landmark of modernist fiction that follows an the wife of an MP around London as she prepares for her party that afternoon. Direct and vivid in its telling of details, the novel shifts from the consciousness of Clarissa Dalloway to that of others, including a shell-shocked veteran of World War I whose destiny briefly intersects with hers.

The feelings that loom behind such mundane events as buying flowers -- the social alliances, the exchanges with shopkeepers, the fact of death -- give Mrs. Dalloway its texture and richness.

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Editorial Reviews

New York Times Book Review
Virginia Woolf stands as the chief figure of modernism in England and must be included with Joyce and Proust in the realization of experiments that have completely broken with tradition.
From the Publisher
"Mrs. Dalloway was the first novel to split the atom. If the novel before Mrs. Dalloway aspired to immensities of scope and scale, to heroic journeys across vast landscapes, with Mrs. Dalloway Virginia Woolf insisted that it could also locate the enormous within the everyday; that a life of errands and party-giving was every bit as viable a subject as any life lived anywhere; and that should any human act in any novel seem unimportant, it has merely been inadequately observed. The novel as an art form has not been the same since. Mrs. Dalloway also contains some of the most beautiful, complex, incisive and idiosyncratic sentences ever written in English, and that alone would be reason enough to read it. It is one of the most moving, revolutionary artworks of the twentieth century."
—Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9782253030584
  • Publisher: Livre de Poche
  • Publication date: 10/28/1982
  • Product dimensions: 4.30 (w) x 6.90 (h) x 0.50 (d)

Meet the 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.

Biography

Virginia Woolf is now recognized as a major twentieth-century author, a great novelist and essayist and a key figure in literary history as a feminist and a modernist. Born in 1882, she was the daughter of the editor and critic Leslie Stephen, and suffered a traumatic adolescence after the deaths of her mother, in 1895, and her stepsister Stella, in 1897, leaving her subject to breakdowns for the rest of her life. Her father died in 1904 and two years later her favorite brother Thoby died suddenly of typhoid. With her sister, the painter Vanessa Bell, she was drawn into the company of writers and artists such as Lytton Strachey and Roger Fry, later known as the Bloomsbury Group. Among them she met Leonard Woolf, whom she married in 1912, and together they founded the Hogarth Press in 1917, which was to publish the work of T. S. Eliot, E. M. Forster and Katherine Mansfield as well as the earliest translations of Freud. Woolf lived an energetic life among friends and family, reviewing and writing, and dividing her time between London and the Sussex Downs. In 1941, fearing another attack of mental illness, she drowned herself.

Her first novel, The Voyage Out, appeared in 1915, and she then worked through the transitional Night and Day (1919) to the highly experimental and impressionistic Jacob's Room (1922). From then on her fiction became a series of brilliant and extraordinarily varied experiments, each one searching for a fresh way of presenting the relationship between individual lives and the forces of society and history. She was particularly concerned with women's experience, not only in her novels but also in her essays and her two books of feminist polemic, A Room of One's Own (1929) and Three Guineas (1938). Her major novels include Mrs. Dalloway (1925), the historical fantasy Orlando (1928), written for Vita Sackville-West, the extraordinarily poetic vision of The Waves (1931), the family saga of The Years (1937), and Between the Acts (1941).

Author biography courtesy of Penguin Group (USA).

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    1. Also Known As:
      Adeline Virginia Stephen Woolf (full name)
    1. Date of Birth:
      January 25, 1882
    2. Place of Birth:
      London
    1. Date of Death:
      March 28, 1941
    2. Place of Death:
      Sussex, England

Read an Excerpt

MRS. DALLOWAY SAID she would buy the flowers herself.

For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer's men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning-fresh as if issued to children on a beach.

What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said, "Musing among the vegetables?"-was that it?-"I prefer men to cauliflowers"-was that it? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terrace-Peter Walsh. He would be back from India one of these days, June or July, she forgot which, for his letters were awfully dull; it was his sayings one remembered; his eyes, his pocket-knife, his smile, his grumpiness and, when millions of things had utterly vanished-how strange it was!-a few sayings like this about cabbages.

She stiffened a little on the kerb, waiting for Durtnall's van to pass. A charming woman, Scrope Purvis thought her (knowing her as one does know people who live next door to one in Westminster); a touch of the bird about her, of the jay, blue-green, light, vivacious, though she was over fifty, and grown very white since her illness. There she perched, never seeing him, waiting to cross, very upright.

For having lived in Westminster-how many years now? over twenty,-one feels even in the midst of the traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense (but that might be her heart, affected, they said, by influenza) before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.

For it was the middle of June. The War was over, except for some one like Mrs. Foxcroft at the Embassy last night eating her heart out because that nice boy was killed and now the old Manor House must go to a cousin; or Lady Bexborough who opened a bazaar, they said, with the telegram in her hand, John, her favourite, killed; but it was over; thank Heaven-over. It was June. The King and Queen were at the Palace. And everywhere, though it was still so early, there was a beating, a stirring of galloping ponies, tapping of cricket bats; Lords, Ascot, Ranelagh and all the rest of it; wrapped in the soft mesh of the grey-blue morning air, which, as the day wore on, would unwind them, and set down on their lawns and pitches the bouncing ponies whose forefeet just struck the ground and up they sprung, the whirling young men, and laughing girls in their transparent muslins who, even now, after dancing all night, were taking their absurd woolly dogs for a run; and even now, at this hour, discreet old dowagers were shooting out in their motor cars on errands of mystery; and the shopkeepers were fidgeting in their windows with their paste and diamonds, their lovely old sea-green brooches in eighteenth-century settings to tempt Americans (but one must economise, not buy things rashly for Elizabeth), and she, too, loving it as she did with an absurd and faithful passion, being part of it, since her people were courtiers once in the time of the Georges, she, too, was going that very night to kindle and illuminate; to give her party. But how strange, on entering the Park, the silence; the mist; the hum; the slow-swimming happy ducks; the pouched birds waddling; and who should be coming along with his back against the Government buildings, most appropriately, carrying a despatch box stamped with the Royal Arms, who but Hugh Whitbread; her old friend Hugh-the admirable Hugh!

"Good-morning to you, Clarissa!" said Hugh, rather extravagantly, for they had known each other as children. "Where are you off to?"

"I love walking in London," said Mrs. Dalloway. "Really it's better than walking in the country."

They had just come up-unfortunately-to see doctors. Other people came to see pictures; go to the opera; take their daughters out; the Whitbreads came "to see doctors." Times without number Clarissa had visited Evelyn Whitbread in a nursing home. Was Evelyn ill again? Evelyn was a good deal out of sorts, said Hugh, intimating by a kind of pout or swell of his very well-covered, manly, extremely handsome, perfectly upholstered body (he was almost too well dressed always, but presumably had to be, with his little job at Court) that his wife had some internal ailment, nothing serious, which, as an old friend, Clarissa Dalloway would quite understand without requiring him to specify. Ah yes, she did of course; what a nuisance; and felt very sisterly and oddly conscious at the same time of her hat. Not the right hat for the early morning, was that it? For Hugh always made her feel, as he bustled on, raising his hat rather extravagantly and assuring her that she might be a girl of eighteen, and of course he was coming to her party to-night, Evelyn absolutely insisted, only a little late he might be after the party at the Palace to which he had to take one of Jim's boys,-she always felt a little skimpy beside Hugh; schoolgirlish; but attached to him, partly from having known him always, but she did think him a good sort in his own way, though Richard was nearly driven mad by him, and as for Peter Walsh, he had never to this day forgiven her for liking him.

She could remember scene after scene at Bourton-Peter furious; Hugh not, of course, his match in any way, but still not a positive imbecile as Peter made out; not a mere barber's block. When his old mother wanted him to give up shooting or to take her to Bath he did it, without a word; he was really unselfish, and as for saying, as Peter did, that he had no heart, no brain, nothing but the manners and breeding of an English gentleman, that was only her dear Peter at his worst; and he could be intolerable; he could be impossible; but adorable to walk with on a morning like this.

(June had drawn out every leaf on the trees. The mothers of Pimlico gave suck to their young. Messages were passing from the Fleet to the Admiralty. Arlington Street and Piccadilly seemed to chafe the very air in the Park and lift its leaves hotly, brilliantly, on waves of that divine vitality which Clarissa loved. To dance, to ride, she had adored all that.)

For they might be parted for hundreds of years, she and Peter; she never wrote a letter and his were dry sticks; but suddenly it would come over her, If he were with me now what would he say?-some days, some sights bringing him back to her calmly, without the old bitterness; which perhaps was the reward of having cared for people; they came back in the middle of St. James's Park on a fine morning-indeed they did. But Peter-however beautiful the day might be, and the trees and the grass, and the little girl in pink-Peter never saw a thing of all that. He would put on his spectacles, if she told him to; he would look. It was the state of the world that interested him; Wagner, Pope's poetry, people's characters eternally, and the defects of her own soul. How he scolded her! How they argued! She would marry a Prime Minister and stand at the top of a staircase; the perfect hostess he called her (she had cried over it in her bedroom), she had the makings of the perfect hostess, he said.

So she would still find herself arguing in St. James's Park, still making out that she had been right-and she had too-not to marry him. For in marriage a little licence, a little independence there must be between people living together day in day out in the same house; which Richard gave her, and she him. (Where was he this morning for instance? Some committee, she never asked what.) But with Peter everything had to be shared; everything gone into. And it was intolerable, and when it came to that scene in the little garden by the fountain, she had to break with him or they would have been destroyed, both of them ruined, she was convinced; though she had borne about with her for years like an arrow sticking in her heart the grief, the anguish; and then the horror of the moment when some one told her at a concert that he had married a woman met on the boat going to India! Never should she forget all that! Cold, heartless, a prude, he called her. Never could she understand how he cared. But those Indian women did presumably-silly, pretty, flimsy nincompoops. And she wasted her pity. For he was quite happy, he assured her-perfectly happy, though he had never done a thing that they talked of; his whole life had been a failure. It made her angry still.

Copyright 1925 by Harcourt, Inc.
Copyright renewed 1953 by Leonard Woolf
Annotated Edition copyright © 2005 by Harcourt, Inc.
Introduction copyright © 2005 by Bonnie Kime Scott

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy,
recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc.,
6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements
General Editors' Preface
Introduction 1
1 Virginia Woolf 23
2 Figures of Desire: Narration and Fiction in To the Lighthouse 33
3 Mrs Dalloway: Repetition as Raising of the Dead 45
4 Repression in Mrs Dalloway's London 57
5 Hume, Stephen, and Elegy in To the Lighthouse 71
6 Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Feminist readings of Woolf 87
7 Mrs Dalloway 98
8 'Cam the Wicked': Woolf's Portrait of the Artist as her Father's Daughter 112
9 Mothers and Daughters in Virginia Woolf's Victorian Novel 130
10 Thinking Forward Through Mrs Dalloway's Daughter 142
Further Reading 156
Notes on Contributors 162
Index 164
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Reading Group Guide

1. In Mrs. Dalloway Virginia Woolf combines interior with omni-scient descriptions of character and scene. How does the author handle the transition between the interior and the exterior? Which characters' points of view are primary to the novel; which minor characters are given their own points of view? Why, and how does Woolf handle the transitions from one point of view to another? How do the shifting points of view, together with that of the author, combine to create a portrait of Clarissa and her milieu? Does this kind of novelistic portraiture resonate with other artistic movement's of Woolf s time?

2. Woolf saw Septimus Warren Smith as an essential counterpoint to Clarissa Dalloway. What specific comparisons and contrasts are drawn between the two? What primary images are associated, respectively, with Clarissa and with Septimus? What is the significance of Septimus making his first appearance as Clarissa, from her florist's window, watches the mysterious motor car in Bond Street?

3. What was Clarissa's relationship with Sally Seton? What is the significance of Sally's reentry into Clarissa's life after so much time? What role does Sally play in Clarissa's past and in her present?

4. What is Woolf s purpose in creating a range of female charac-ters of various ages and social classes-from Clarissa herself and Lady Millicent Burton to Sally Seton, Doris Kilman, Lucrezia Smith, and Maisie Johnson? Does she present a comparable range of male characters?

5. Clarissa's movements through London, along with the comings and goings of other characters, are given in some geographic detail. Do the patterns of movement and the characters' intersecting routes establish a pattern? If so, how do those physical patterns reflect important internal patterns of thought, memory, feelings, and attitudes? What is the view of London that we come away with?

6. As the day and the novel proceed, the hours and half hours are sounded by a variety of clocks (for instance, Big Ben strikes noon at the novel's exact midpoint). What is the effect of the time being constantly announced on the novel's structure and on our sense of the pace of the characters' lives? What hours in association with which events are explicitly sounded? Why? Is there significance in Big Ben being the chief announcer of time?

7. Woolf shifts scenes between past and present, primarily through Clarissa's, Septimus's, and others' memories. Does this device successfully establish the importance of the past as a shap-ing influence on and an informing component of the present? Which characters promote this idea? Does Woolf seem to believe this holds true for individuals as it does for society as a whole?

8. Threats of disorder and death recur throughout the novel, cul-minating in Septimus's suicide and repeating later in Sir William Bradshaw's report of that suicide at Clarissa's party. When do thoughts or images of disorder and death appear in the novel, and in connection with which characters? What are those characters' attitudes concerning death?

9. Clarissa and others have a heightened sense of the "splendid achievement" and continuity of English history, culture, and tradition. How do Clarissa and others respond to that history and culture? What specific elements of English history and culture are viewed as primary?
How does Clarissa's attitude, specifically, compare with Septimus's attitude on these points?

10. As he leaves Regent's Park, Peter sees and hears "a tall quiver-ing shape,... a battered woman" singing of love and death: "the voice of an ancient spring spouting from the earth. . ." singing "the ancient song." What is Peter's reaction and what significance does the battered woman and her ancient song have for the novel as a whole?

11. Clarissa reads lines from Shakespeare's Cymbeline (IV, ii) from an open book in a shop window: "Fear no more the heat o' the sun / Nor the furious winter's rages. / Thou thy worldly task hast done, / Home art gone and ta'en thy wages: / Golden lads and girls all must, / As chimney-sweepers, come to dust." These lines are alluded to many times. What importance do they have for Clarissa, Septimus, and the novel's principal themes? What fears do Clarissa and other characters experience?

12. Why does Woolf end the novel with Clarissa as seen through Peter's eyes? Why does he experience feelings of "terror," "ecstasy," and "extraordinary excitement" in her presence? What is the significance of those feelings, and do we as readers share them?
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 89 )
Rating Distribution

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(42)

4 Star

(18)

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(14)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 89 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 10, 2006

    'make sure something happens in it'

    Mrs. Dalloway is a difficult book to read, especially if you do not enjoy reading or you are not a very apt reader. I've read several reviews on Virginia Woolf's books, and I have to say that the main reason behind the bad reviews is ignorance. It is a day, and in this single day in a person's life Woolf makes the closest representation of love in writing I have ever read. Simply genius, however difficult the book is for you, I assure you that the ending makes it worth it. However, if by the time you finish it you feel like Woolf failed and did not 'make sure something happened', go watch an action film that's not too clever for you. :)

    7 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 28, 2010

    Mrs. Dalloway

    I will admit, when I first attempted to read this novel, I was intimidated by Woolf's complicated, dense prose and lack of plot substance. I now can say that it is one of my favorite novels not for its plot (which is admittedly nothing more than one day in the life of a simple woman setting up for an evening with friends) or escapism in setting or fantastic characters but for the symbolism throughout. The characters are shattered, fragmented (because of WWI, in my opinion) and seem to represent facets of society. I found, in them, bits and pieces of my own self; I was forced to look upon the unpleasant and questioned the supposed "good" qualities. The style of writing is quite virtuosic and needs a steady mind from the reader for interpreting the stream of thought and exit and entrance of each character. It is for this reason that I would feel apprehensive in choosing this book for a readers group or class discussion. Woolf's prose is very filling and consuming: not something many casual readers would like when indulging in a book (which is also the reason I hesitate suggesting Mrs. Dalloway for literature classes unless they are advanced students who are taught the significant aspects of literature analysis). On the whole, Mrs. Dalloway is quite a wonderful read, delving into the psychological and social aspects of what could be any given day in anyone's life.

    5 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 23, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    Don't Expect Riveting Storytelling

    I was assigned this book several times in high school and college and turned to Monarch notes rather than finishing, because words can not express how tedious and boring I found this book. Hated it. Recently, I wanted to read Cunningham's "The Hours" because I was intrigued by the film. I knew that Mrs Dalloway was one source for the novel, so wanting to get more out of my reading I returned to this novel, thinking, well, maybe being more of a sophisticated reader I'll enjoy it now. I can't say I did.

    The novel is written with the stream of consciousness technique and has no chapters and few section breaks. Woolf's sentences are famously long and complex. Sometimes this makes for lyrical, sinuous prose; I especially remembered one passage about the flowers looking like starched laundry striking me as beautiful. It was easier to take in such sentences early in the book, but the prose became more and more numbing because of the its unrelieved density. There are many paragraphs and sentences I reread more than once trying to make sense of them. The narrative often comes across as rambling and incoherent. Given one of the characters is mentally ill, I think some of the narrative is deliberately mad. Different point of views mix throughout the novel without clear cut edges. This is also one of those novels that's feels abstruse, dated, because of many contemporary references are hard to get as a 21st century American without constantly turning to the notes.

    There's little discernable plot. We follow various characters--mostly related to Mrs Dalloway--through one mid-June day in London, but the events feel disjointed. Besides there being no plot to absorb me, there was not one character I found likable--I found Mrs Dalloway herself and almost all the characters vapid and shallow. This isn't an accessible story like those of a Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or EM Forester--its very interior and page after page is filled with character's thoughts. There is a structure and technique of historic importance, but not a read I'd call enjoyable and filled with the melancholies of middle age. A formative classic for good reason, so I'd give it a shot if you haven't read it--but I finished it more frustrated than moved.

    3 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 28, 2009

    I hated this book.

    What a waste of time. I was not drawn into the story enough to care about any of the characters. Now I know why I didn't read this "classic" earlier.

    2 out of 10 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 13, 2000

    *Here's a hint* BUY CLIFFS NOTES

    I unknowingly just picked out a book for my English Honors class independant reading assignment, I saw that the author was Virginia Woolf, and I thought, what the heck? I've at least heard of her, so I'll read it. That was a mistake. The book takes place over one day, is about a lady giving a party and a crazy man. It is hard to keep track of who is telling the story, for it changes often, and there are no chapters. I don't really reccommend the book unless you have a lot of time and patience.

    2 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 3, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    Not My Style of Writing Reading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

    Not My Style of Writing

    Reading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf reminded me of why many of these books I have pledged to read are considered challenges. I was really looking forward to reading this book because I was under the impression that other people liked it. As I found out later, this is not necessarily the case and I can understand why. It’s not that Mrs. Dalloway is a bad book and, in fact, it gets better as it goes along and even has some profound quotes, such as, “Nothing exists outside us except a state of mind.”




    The book is incredibly detailed and vivid in its descriptions, and Woolf does a great job of really getting inside of the heads of various characters. The problem is the stream of consciousness writing made it difficult to recognize transitions from one person to the next. No matter what page I was on, I felt like I was having aha moments about two pages before. I was always reading a few pages of my comprehension. The result is that I can look back on the book with some fondness, but I remember the difficulties I encountered. My favorite parts were those pertaining to Septimus and Rezia (even more so than Mrs. Dalloway herself). Theirs was a palpable and tragic story that I could have read an entire book about.




    To be fair to the book, I skipped the Introduction. It was more or less a play-by-play of the entire book and I thought that reading it would ruin the story for me. Instead, I read it after I finished the book and it put things into better context for me. If I were to do it over again, though, I still don’t think I would have read the Introduction first. I don’t like knowing everything that’s going to happen in a book, even if it makes it “easier” to get through. The book has a great quote that says, “It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels,” and so, I will be honest….. I could have just read the Introduction and skipped reading the book altogether and come away with the same amount of comprehension. But that’s neither here nor there and I am left feeling ambiguous about the book. I enjoyed it after the fact, but not as much while reading it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2013

    Complex novel

    I am not sure what I think about this book. The writing is an interconnected stream of conscienceness among all the characters in the book. You almost feel like you are floating from one characters mind to the next. I don't think anyone could say that the author is not extremely talented but I did not find the book that enjoyable. There is really not much plot more of portraits of each character. Glad I read it though, I love to be exposed to different writing styles and ideas.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2014

    To line of fire

    This book was written by a woman.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2013

    What a self-indulgent piece of muck!!! I have rarely been so bor

    What a self-indulgent piece of muck!!! I have rarely been so bored by a book.

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2013

    Line of fire

    Took me awhile to read. Not one of his best works

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 14, 2012

    GOOD NEWS FOR ALL YA'L THAT SAY IT TERRIBLE OR GOOD

    Who wants a good book? Wait let me refrase that who wants a teenage book, with magic flying back and forth in each battle that consistes of life or death, with romance, betrayl, mystery magic, stubbonness, and heart stolen love. Eden Mathews is a 16 year girl who beleives she is a reguler girl who has shut down 3 other schools on''acsudental'' and has yet to figure out why until resentle at her new school Kingsley after just having a fight with 5 men that she beleive she killed. Now on top on that she just finds out shes not normal she is a super-human and finding out that all the schools she closed down could have resisted. And on top of the school roof in the middle of a fight agianest 5 men to save the man of her love life who is also the crowned prince then all of a sudden BOOM Eden has deen knocked off the 3 story high roof. If you think I just gave away the whole story your wrong I didn't. The books called Reckless Magic and the author is Rachel Higginson she has 3 other books in the series this is a must read book. Lets just say that I'm not someone to be mean but I just have to say that you are a *** ***** if you don't fall in love with her books!

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 8, 2011

    wrong edition!

    This is not the annotated edition in nookbook!

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 31, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    Escaping with Virginia

    A good book to slowly work your way through. A complex plot, beautifully written with style not seen today. I hung on every word, loved the characters.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2010

    AP English forced me to attempt to read this garbage.

    My AP English class has to read this book, so we can analyze The Hours, which is heavely based off this terrible read. There is I think maybe two or three people in our class that are actually reading it, everyone else has given up the torture. Okay, Woolf does have a brilliant writing style, but she forgot the most important thing in a novel...THE STORY! This story is absolutley boring. I read forty-five pages, but I could not focus on any of them without thinking of an actual good story that I'd rather be reading right now. Why can't books like this remember to make the story gripping and entertaining. I don't believe she is that great of a writer just because she writes in stream of consciousness well. If a writer can't remember to make the reader want to keep reading then they do not deserve to be published.

    0 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 25, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    tedious...

    Mrs. Dalloway chronicles a single day in the life of Clarissa Dalloway. The novel itself reveals the thoughts and ruminations of Clarissa and her friends. I found the book to be dull and lifeless. None of the characters were interesting with the exception of Sally Seton who is a very minor character. They seemed shallow and boring. The only thing that was at least mildly appealing was the language itself. At times the sentences ran on and were tedious but some of the time the language was very enjoyable. I do like the first sentence. It really draws the reader in. "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself." Mostly I was relieved to be finished with Mrs. Dalloway!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 27, 2006

    Poetic. Amazing.

    Each character comes to life through Woolf's stream of consciousness technique. Their motivations become reasonable and clear. It left me breathless and awed up to the last scene at Mrs. Dalloway's party.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 21, 2006

    Beautiful!

    This book is like some movies that you want to watch again and again and everytime you find something new, you understand more... Everything becomes clearer(!) For some might not be easy to read but if you slow down and take your time it's so worth it! ENJOY!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 2, 2006

    A Masterpiece!

    With 'Mrs. Dalloway', Virginia Woolf accomplishes the near impossible: she makes the mundane and ordinary seem profound and complex. Only the most talented of writers can succeed in telling a story that doesn't rely on an elaborate plot or an exciting premise. 'Mrs. Dalloway' works so well precisely becase of the simplicity of its premise: to tell the story of one day in the life of a woman preparing to host a party. It's refreshing to read a novel that is neither contrived nor trying too hard to impress us as readers. By the end of the novel, one feels a real connection with the characters because they seem so real and tangible. With rich and textured characterizations, Woolf is able to explore themes that directly relate to the complexity of the human soul. This is a beautifully written work of art. It's the kind of novel that really makes you appreciate great literature. Although this is a very challenging novel, I'm sure most experienced readers will find it immensely satisfying.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 28, 2005

    Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

    If you don't enjoy reading complex novels, be afraid... be very afraid. Woolf's MRS. DALLOWAY is one of the most eloquent and challenging novels in existence. Those who cannot appreciate such narrative brilliance should a) not give it a meaningless and inane review of 'it's too hard!' with one star on bn.com, or b) avoid the novel entirely. MRS. DALLOWAY is not for the faint of heart or the easily-bored. It IS for readers who like something challenging, who are visual (the imagery she uses is just incredible!), and who can appreciate one of the finest novels produced by one of the finest authors of the last century. One of my favorites, highly recommended!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 28, 2005

    A good novel does not need a cliched conflict

    What I liked most about Mrs. Dalloway was its complexity of every single character and the lack of a cliched conflict that would usually involve a passionate love between two characters and the inability to solve this conflict. Woolf did an excellent job in portraying each character, giving each an individual and distinctive voice. Many people who have read Mrs. Dalloway usually would ask 'That's it? What's going on?' because the book ends as the day ends. Like a realistic painting, Woolf painted the lives of these people in one day, and leaves the readers with these colorful and vivid images.

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