06 October 2017
The height of the work of the British writer Virginia Woolf is the novel “Mrs. Dalloway” . The world of the novel is as if woven from trifles, trifles, looks, gestures, details – it subtly merges the past and the present, “here and there”, because it is a world of feeling, and it is feeling, not dry logic, that determines what is important and what no, turning the moment into eternity, but a trifle in an event.
# 69: Mrs. Dalloway
Have you ever had the desire to look at a thoughtful person and stealthily sneak into his head and understand what he really thinks about, what causes his hidden grin frozen in the corners of his mouth, or the wrinkle that lurks between his eyebrows? After all, outwardly, he can be absolutely calm and balanced, and at this time a volcano of passions is bubbling in his head, thinking about something, analyzing, building grandiose plans. If you want to feel like a telepath for a while, then you obviously have to taste the creativity of Virginia Woolf. She likes to reveal the inner world of heroes through the prism of his thoughts and emotional experiences. Let there are practically no events in the novel. You think, Clarissa Dalloway is preparing to receive guests at home. Eka is unseen for a man of the world! Everyday routine, nothing more. But in my head there are always various thoughts, like small buzzing bees near a hive, they get confused, interrupt each other, mix with memories. And then you realize that there is a whole gap between the external and the internal. A person turns out to be completely different if you uncover his soul. So is it worth complaining that we sometimes can not understand each other, if one himself does not always manage to unravel the chaotic tangle in his own head?
I was a little familiar with the work of Virginia Woolf, so I prepared mentally for the style of presentation in the form of a stream of consciousness this time. True, he deliberately postponed the book for the fall so that it fits into the measured schedule of the day. This style does not tolerate rapid reading, but I do not recommend to split the book in parts. Distract for a moment and instantly find yourself under the ruins of a house of cards. And there’s nothing to complain about later, that this is the bullshit of the gray mare and the verbal diarrhea of the author. Ideally, you will find a free day or evening, when you relax in a bed with a lazy and have neither the strength nor the desire to reach for the bookshelf for something more fascinating. Ideally, because the events of the book affect only one day of the life of the heroes. This day in the head of Clarissa begins with an unconscious premonition. Something is about to happen. By the way, an excellent introduction of the novel, which excites the curiosity of the reader. And lead the plot outline in any direction, wherever it pleases, you will still come to some event. But there is a risk of getting disappointed if you are waiting for something extraordinary, and not an ordinary meeting with the former, your first love. And here all the preparations for dinner are not so important, because you want to think about our favorite “ah, if …”, “how would …”, etc. This mediocrity of other people’s thoughts did not impress me at all.
In addition, I belong to the type of people who can build trust relationships exclusively tete-a-tete, so it is much more convenient to put things in order in one head only, and not immediately in several, and not all of them were mentally healthy. But most of all I was pushed away by a depressive atmosphere. Well, all right, everyone has such moments when he thinks about the meaning of being, about what will happen after you are gone, life is pain, everything is decay, etc. I do not consider this a psychic deviation or a suicidal mood. It is peculiar for a person to think about the future. But when here several people start to get drunk without a special reason – it already strains. Why Clarissa is visited by thoughts of death, because she has everything, in principle? Why should she complain? On the routine? So is it really that prevents someone from diversifying their everyday life, finding employment in their own way, rather than winding themselves up with idleness? I agree with the views of Dr. Douma and Sir Bradshaw, who advised Septimus to get distracted by something, get a hobby and learn how to relax. This is much more productive than regretting yourself and lamenting the lost time. In general, this is simply not my author and not my genre. I understand the brain, but I do not want to feel with my heart and drive myself into depression.
The world raised the whip. Where will the blow fall?
* * *
Clarissa is sincere – here. Peter will find it sentimental. She is sentimental – indeed. Because she understood: the only thing we need to talk about is our feelings. All this cleverness is nonsense. Just feel what you have to say.
* * *
She had a strange ability to pull people’s nerves, and besides they sang like violin strings.
* * *
Children can not be doomed to live in this world. You can not perpetuate suffering and produce lustful animals that do not have strong feelings, only gusts, fancies that throw them on the waves.
* * *
Only a stiff frame of habit holds the human body.