Folks who’ve made it through the previous deathmarches can attest to the fact this one has been exceptionally botched on my end, but you’ve all done a great job putting up with it. And it looks like collectively the group is spitting in the eye of math — 19 comments this near the end is mighty mighty.
If you’ve missed commenting one week because of the jumble, not to fear. Everyone gets one mulligan on this ‘march. Post on all but one, finish the book, and verily ye shall be magnetized.
This here would be the place to comment on everything up to Part III, chapter 2 (e — you were right about that error in last week’s target….). Wednesday Nov 29: Let’s meet up at the back cover of the book for a wrap party, replete with “extreme fatigue.”
16 comments for “The Deathmarch to the Lighthouse, Week 5”
other dan
November 21, 2006 at 4:50 am
so i have till the 29th to finish? i’m cruising now, once ‘time passes’ i started to hope no one would ever return to the house, a bit of hope on my part. oh well, now they are on a deathmarch of their own down to the lighthouse. that’s where i took a break. maybe there will be some quicksand. this book makes me want to go on a rampage.
I’m with at least one of the Dans on this one–this book has started to make me nervous, fidgety, and antsy. Before reading the last few chapters, I think I need to find an old Valium I stashed away from dental surgery several years ago. At first I was mesmerized by Woolf’s language and point of view; now I’m just irritable. I don’t really care about the characters as much as I did early on. Has anyone thought of making a musical from this book? Perhaps that prospect would help my attitude. I’m sorry to all the marchers listening to my pain and whining. I’ll try really hard to cough up some more positive comments on the last mile.
So I just crawled up onto the ligthhouse shore, battered and bruised, a few minutes ago. Nice ending. Am I supposed to talk about the ending? I just don’t know anymore.
Computilo, Other Dan, I feel your pain. At page 150 I was finding this book quite tiresome. Turns out it really deserved the Deathmarch treatment after all; I probably never would have finished it on my own. But it picks up quite a bit toward the end and concludes on a satisfying note.
Or at least I was satisfied until I turned the page to the list of books by Virginia Woolf, and saw the name of the book we should have been reading all along: “Granite and Rainbow.” Cecil, how’d you miss that?
Which reminds me, “Against the Day” became available yesterday. Amazon is selling it for the lucky price of $21, and it is, em, 1120 pages (3.32 pounds). Dare we?
Also, Thomas Pynchon–i.e. a guy in a paper bag with a question mark on it– showed up on “The Simpsons” this week. He didn’t have any lines, though.
A beautiful ending. In fact that whole last section, where Lily’s memories of Mrs. Ramsay, her final push to figure her out, blend with the problem of her art, until the two are indistinguishable, is unforgettable (though somehow I forgot it from my first reading of the book!). I felt very much like Lily in that last section, sad for Mrs. Ramsay’s absence but freer somehow for her being gone. It was like (kind of obvious I guess) the death of the Victorian age and the birth of something much more unsure yet liberating.
*SPOILER ALERT*
What do others think of the meaning of that very last scene? Why the uplift when Mr. Ramsay steps onto the Lighthouse island, and how is that connected to the resolution of Lily’s painting? Though it seems so minor–just an old man stepping onto the shore–Woolf invests the act with a cosmic significance. I felt like the meaning of life had been delivered, but I only had the *feeling* of it–couldn’t for the life of me say what it was. Any ideas?
CV & Marchers,
Sorry! There it is plain as day in Cecil’s note up top–this thread for comments through Part III, chap. 2. I lost track, thought we were s’posed to have surged to the end.
I promise I’ll be more vigilant on the “Against the Day” deathmarch.
I am a bad death-marcher – no posting only reading! But I will go out on a limb and say that I absolutely loved the book (finshed quite a while ago despite the not posting) – and currently do not have it in front of me to help in this post -but, excuses aside I will say that both the complexity of the intense emotionality of the first half and the abrupt simplicity of the second make this an ongoing challenging. As soon as you are comfortable in the rythem of the first half you are jolted into a stoic response of “she died, oh and he died too, and oops before I forget that other one is dead as well….” This is much like the tone of the writing itself in that you have to go back and reread to understand how this could happen so simply just as you constantly have to go back and reread to understand who is speaking….
Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!
I shared Maggie’s experience of needing to reread to see who’s speaking; I wonder if it connects to Computilo and Other Dan’s sense that the characters are hard to care about. They don’t arc neatly through time, but keep insisting we assemble them out of instants, and we all have instants–a random thought about the kids, a roof to be fixed, etc.–so it’s more difficult than usual to disentangle them one from the other, and really from ourselves.
“Stream of consciousness” doesn’t really catch it for me: it’s more like sticky webs of intertwined consciousnesses, or maybe just consciousness itself, as it courses through all of us in the act of perceiving. I almost wonder if Woolf’s real subject is a kind of monoconsciousness that blows through all of us, hell even the wind seems to have it in Part III, the light from the lighthouse feels a lot like it sometimes, and on the other side of it: darkness.
CV, I’m starting to realize this book is no help for dialog at all! Tho’ what would it be like to see a sitcom written along these lines? Sure to follow hard on the heels of “Lighthouse! The Musical”. 🙂
Finished, glad to be finished, but glad for the trip, too. Searching for enlightenment on the world wide web, I came across a site where you can hear Virginia Woolf speak. Here’s the address, although I don’t know how to make it into a link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/audiointerviews/profilepages/woolfv1.shtml
“Lighthouse: The Musical” would probably be like “An Inspector Calls” set to a waltz: on the surface all parlorish and interrelational, but in actuality all dark and interior-monologuey.
The Bureau of Detectives, Made-Up Words Unit just called. I apologize, and I won’t do that again.
I’ve been struck by the similarities between the family’s dinner and evening and the spirit that pervades plays like “Inspector”, “Half-Life,” and even (going beyond the home) “Blind Goddess”. Tension is heightened by being unexpressed and ignored, differences cause greater chasms for being played down, people would rather leave dissonances unresolved than risk having the music end. I think the British identify and analyze this much better than we Americans, and I wonder if it’s the result of more time spent indoors or perhaps of a longer, broader tradition of biting one’s tongue in certain classes.
I felt I was seeing a parlor play in more ways than one. Often in fiction we learn about a character’s internal life, their mind, through the medium of their words and actions. But in a very theatrical way this is inverted here, and I feel I learn from their thoughts what Woolf’s characters would do or say in a given situation, where their past words or actions might mislead.
i finished the book in the airport last week. i really did feel a sense of satisfaction on completing the thing. there was an uplifting sense when the old man gets to the lighthouse, i wouldn’t have made it without the deathmarch. i wonder how many times he had been out there? the first time i particularly cared about any character in the book however it’s unlikely i will read any other VW’s work, this was too tedious. the book jacket really is disingenuous when it tells you this book is about all these different plot lines (such as war), which it is, but only on surfuce level. as detailed as the discriptions become of the feelings and motivations of the characters, i never was particularly drawn in. now reading m. atwood’s new book and reveling in how fast i can read.
an opinion re other dan’s question about how many times has mr. r been out to the lighthouse–this is his one and only trip. this is the completion of the thing mr. r spoiled, the trip james was to take with his mother. no one’s been back to the house since mrs. r died. mr. r is trying for balance. title of the book makes me sure–one book, one trip, “a line there, in the centre….”
Dare I ask? Have I earned the estimable magnet? Have I become one of such a select group? And at what price, for I have lost my copy of To The Lighthouse!
so i have till the 29th to finish? i’m cruising now, once ‘time passes’ i started to hope no one would ever return to the house, a bit of hope on my part. oh well, now they are on a deathmarch of their own down to the lighthouse. that’s where i took a break. maybe there will be some quicksand. this book makes me want to go on a rampage.
I’m with at least one of the Dans on this one–this book has started to make me nervous, fidgety, and antsy. Before reading the last few chapters, I think I need to find an old Valium I stashed away from dental surgery several years ago. At first I was mesmerized by Woolf’s language and point of view; now I’m just irritable. I don’t really care about the characters as much as I did early on. Has anyone thought of making a musical from this book? Perhaps that prospect would help my attitude. I’m sorry to all the marchers listening to my pain and whining. I’ll try really hard to cough up some more positive comments on the last mile.
greetings from new (chilly) grey environs. i’m commenting to lock in my magnetizement as i may not get more internets before the end of the week.
So I just crawled up onto the ligthhouse shore, battered and bruised, a few minutes ago. Nice ending. Am I supposed to talk about the ending? I just don’t know anymore.
Computilo, Other Dan, I feel your pain. At page 150 I was finding this book quite tiresome. Turns out it really deserved the Deathmarch treatment after all; I probably never would have finished it on my own. But it picks up quite a bit toward the end and concludes on a satisfying note.
Or at least I was satisfied until I turned the page to the list of books by Virginia Woolf, and saw the name of the book we should have been reading all along: “Granite and Rainbow.” Cecil, how’d you miss that?
Which reminds me, “Against the Day” became available yesterday. Amazon is selling it for the lucky price of $21, and it is, em, 1120 pages (3.32 pounds). Dare we?
Also, Thomas Pynchon–i.e. a guy in a paper bag with a question mark on it– showed up on “The Simpsons” this week. He didn’t have any lines, though.
A beautiful ending. In fact that whole last section, where Lily’s memories of Mrs. Ramsay, her final push to figure her out, blend with the problem of her art, until the two are indistinguishable, is unforgettable (though somehow I forgot it from my first reading of the book!). I felt very much like Lily in that last section, sad for Mrs. Ramsay’s absence but freer somehow for her being gone. It was like (kind of obvious I guess) the death of the Victorian age and the birth of something much more unsure yet liberating.
*SPOILER ALERT*
What do others think of the meaning of that very last scene? Why the uplift when Mr. Ramsay steps onto the Lighthouse island, and how is that connected to the resolution of Lily’s painting? Though it seems so minor–just an old man stepping onto the shore–Woolf invests the act with a cosmic significance. I felt like the meaning of life had been delivered, but I only had the *feeling* of it–couldn’t for the life of me say what it was. Any ideas?
CV & Marchers,
Sorry! There it is plain as day in Cecil’s note up top–this thread for comments through Part III, chap. 2. I lost track, thought we were s’posed to have surged to the end.
I promise I’ll be more vigilant on the “Against the Day” deathmarch.
I am a bad death-marcher – no posting only reading! But I will go out on a limb and say that I absolutely loved the book (finshed quite a while ago despite the not posting) – and currently do not have it in front of me to help in this post -but, excuses aside I will say that both the complexity of the intense emotionality of the first half and the abrupt simplicity of the second make this an ongoing challenging. As soon as you are comfortable in the rythem of the first half you are jolted into a stoic response of “she died, oh and he died too, and oops before I forget that other one is dead as well….” This is much like the tone of the writing itself in that you have to go back and reread to understand how this could happen so simply just as you constantly have to go back and reread to understand who is speaking….
Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!
I shared Maggie’s experience of needing to reread to see who’s speaking; I wonder if it connects to Computilo and Other Dan’s sense that the characters are hard to care about. They don’t arc neatly through time, but keep insisting we assemble them out of instants, and we all have instants–a random thought about the kids, a roof to be fixed, etc.–so it’s more difficult than usual to disentangle them one from the other, and really from ourselves.
“Stream of consciousness” doesn’t really catch it for me: it’s more like sticky webs of intertwined consciousnesses, or maybe just consciousness itself, as it courses through all of us in the act of perceiving. I almost wonder if Woolf’s real subject is a kind of monoconsciousness that blows through all of us, hell even the wind seems to have it in Part III, the light from the lighthouse feels a lot like it sometimes, and on the other side of it: darkness.
CV, I’m starting to realize this book is no help for dialog at all! Tho’ what would it be like to see a sitcom written along these lines? Sure to follow hard on the heels of “Lighthouse! The Musical”. 🙂
Finished, glad to be finished, but glad for the trip, too. Searching for enlightenment on the world wide web, I came across a site where you can hear Virginia Woolf speak. Here’s the address, although I don’t know how to make it into a link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/audiointerviews/profilepages/woolfv1.shtml
“Lighthouse: The Musical” would probably be like “An Inspector Calls” set to a waltz: on the surface all parlorish and interrelational, but in actuality all dark and interior-monologuey.
The Bureau of Detectives, Made-Up Words Unit just called. I apologize, and I won’t do that again.
I’ve been struck by the similarities between the family’s dinner and evening and the spirit that pervades plays like “Inspector”, “Half-Life,” and even (going beyond the home) “Blind Goddess”. Tension is heightened by being unexpressed and ignored, differences cause greater chasms for being played down, people would rather leave dissonances unresolved than risk having the music end. I think the British identify and analyze this much better than we Americans, and I wonder if it’s the result of more time spent indoors or perhaps of a longer, broader tradition of biting one’s tongue in certain classes.
I felt I was seeing a parlor play in more ways than one. Often in fiction we learn about a character’s internal life, their mind, through the medium of their words and actions. But in a very theatrical way this is inverted here, and I feel I learn from their thoughts what Woolf’s characters would do or say in a given situation, where their past words or actions might mislead.
i finished the book in the airport last week. i really did feel a sense of satisfaction on completing the thing. there was an uplifting sense when the old man gets to the lighthouse, i wouldn’t have made it without the deathmarch. i wonder how many times he had been out there? the first time i particularly cared about any character in the book however it’s unlikely i will read any other VW’s work, this was too tedious. the book jacket really is disingenuous when it tells you this book is about all these different plot lines (such as war), which it is, but only on surfuce level. as detailed as the discriptions become of the feelings and motivations of the characters, i never was particularly drawn in. now reading m. atwood’s new book and reveling in how fast i can read.
an opinion re other dan’s question about how many times has mr. r been out to the lighthouse–this is his one and only trip. this is the completion of the thing mr. r spoiled, the trip james was to take with his mother. no one’s been back to the house since mrs. r died. mr. r is trying for balance. title of the book makes me sure–one book, one trip, “a line there, in the centre….”
Dare I ask? Have I earned the estimable magnet? Have I become one of such a select group? And at what price, for I have lost my copy of To The Lighthouse!
Litbabe: you have! you have!
-Cecil
I finished the book. But I have nothing thoughtful to say. I’m so very tired…