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more thoughts on Woolf

It is with much reluctance that I am returning A Room of One’s Own to the library. Rather, my husband is prying the book from my fingers in order to avoid incuring more late fees. Dang it.

I just have to quote one more line (or several rather). Her “peroration” that concludes the book.

“What is meant by reality? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable – now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now in a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech – and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Picadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates.”

The she speaks of how it is the writer’s “…business to find it and collect it and communicate it to the rest of us.”

She certainly does a fantastic job of relating her reality…making her world so very real. This writing gives a glimpse into the world of a female writer of the 1920’s….and takes you back into the ‘reality’ of a similar kind in centuries preceding. At the same time the words she shares are relevant today. Knowing where we have been, where we have come from and what we have come through as women not only gives encouragement and hope, but also pride…yes, I am proud to be a woman….a woman that writes. Even if just these little trivial blog attempts.

I can say quite honestly that this book is one of,  if not THE best book I have ever read. Awww, quit all the noncommittal nonsense. It is the most wonderfully splendid, thought-provokingly marvelous work I have ever read. So there.


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