Virginia Woolf, ladies and gentlemen

“I will come,” said Peter, but he sat on for a moment.  What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself.  What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement?

It is Clarissa, he said.

For there she was.

- from Mrs. Dalloway

 One of my favorite last lines in all of literature…

 Mrs. Dalloway

“Via o que lhe faltava. Não era beleza, não era inteligência. Era essa coisa central, que se comunica, alguma coisa de cálido que quebra a superfície e encrespa o frio contato de homens e mulheres.”

- Romance: Mrs. Dalloway, tradução de Mário Quintana

“For there she was.”

Maybe because of the helter-skelter pace of this book and the way it ricochets from character to character, this ending had so much power.  Literally, I felt a jolt of energy as I read that line.  The book, the story, just clicks shut.  As though suddenly the lights went out or the door slammed shut.

It was a complicated book, overall. I haven’t had to devote such energy to every single word of a novel in a long time.  This wasn’t because it was complicated and tricky, like Nabokov, but because it was just confusing as hell.  Stream of consciousness (which, apparently, this novel is technically NOT, because it uses a third person voice? leave the literary hoo-ha to the professors, if that’s the case.  this was a bloody stream of consciousness if I’ve ever seen one) has always frightened me a little – I’ve never read Ulysses, either – and this was my first real time getting into it.  Dalloway has, effectively, sat on my shelf because of this until now (when I had to read it for class!  hooray!).

I can’t really say whether or not I liked the book.  The stuff with Septimus and his eventual suicide (did I mention I’m giving up on my spoiler policy?  at least for older books – I say there’s a two year statute of limitations on a novel’s twists.  Unless it is a MAJOR NOVEL like the Harry Potter books or a new Stephen King.  Then, its a month.) just didn’t really seem necessary to me.  I mean, that subplot was interesting in its own way but it never felt really important.  PTSD (or “shell shock”) is a major issue, even in today’s society, and the fact that doctors didn’t really know how to address it back then… well, that’s important.  But if it is THAT important, give him more depth.  More page time.  More anything – he just seemed like a peripheral somebody who became vaguely important because his death makes Clarissa realize that life is, in fact, important.

Speaking of Clarissa, I wanted more time with her.  The scenes with her were the most (in my mind) energetic and the ones that felt the most like life.  The beginning of the novel felt so different from the end; I think mainly because we’d been away from Clarissa as the focal point of the narrative and then WHAM the party and suddenly we’re remembering her.  Its an “oh yeahhh” kind of moment.  I wish there had been more of those.

To Sum Up:  This is an Important Work of Fiction that I’ve now read.  However, I can’t get wildly excited about it.  It was just… okay.  I’ll read more Woolf – and reread The Hours – now but I’m not so sure this book deserves the status it has achieved (though there are some great quotes and scenes).

I haven’t forgotten that I promised to tell you more about my purchases at Bell, Book & Candle, the used bookstore that I visited while in McDonough, GA! It was a large shop with a wide variety of books. I headed straight for the “Classics” section, and after the briefest of scans I noticed these:

Could you have passed these up? They’re part of a series that was published “on the occasion of Penguin’s 60th anniversary“. Aside from the Washington Irving stories, I’ve never read any of these, although the authors are all ones that are on my list. I figure the tiny books will be excellent additions to my reading stack for the Readathon on December 5th.

While these were easily packable, I scooted my butt out of the store before I was tempted by anything else! Later my friend caught me playing with them (I was taking pictures for my blog!!) and she laughed, but her daughter was impressed and had fun playing with them too.

In other news, I’ve updated my Woolf in Winter post to include a tentative list of the people (gleaned from Frances and Claire and Emily’s posts as well as mine) who have expressed interest in joining us for Mrs. Dalloway specifically, or for all four books. The list is long, and there are quite a few new blogs for me to explore – and it’s not even everyone who wants to be involved! Very exciting.

(Taking a break from narcissismy vacation-related posts…)

Back in August I posted about my first experience with Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, and it sparked off a burst of creative thought among my new-found blogging friends, Claire, Emily, and Frances, among others. We agreed that a read-a-long of several other books by Woolf was called for, and picked January as the month to do business. The idea has been in the back of my mind since then, and has shaped my vague reading plans for the new year. Claire, who planted the initial idea in our heads, got on the ball this week and what began as a reminder has blossomed into a full fledged group-read, spanning two months, four books, and three glamorous hosts + myself (the somewhat terrified newbie).

Frances and Emily have already posted beautiful invitations and explanations at their respective blogs, and the response has been huge – and hugely exciting.

The reading schedule looks like this, with each book being hosted by one of the four of us:

Sarah – Mrs. Dalloway (January 15th)

Emily – To the Lighthouse (January 29)

Frances – Orlando (February 12)

Claire – The Waves (February 26)

We’re encouraging participants to join us for one, two, or all of the books, or just chime in on the discussions if you’ve already read the books. Frances and Emily are self-termed Woolf ‘geeks’ and ‘dorks’, so the experience lies with them, while I’ve only read one book by the author and Claire is about to venture into the world of Woolf for the first time. There’s plenty of room here for any kind of reader. Please join us!

As I’ll be the first host up to bat, it would be super helpful if those who are planning to join for Mrs. Dalloway, specifically, would raise their hands! I’ll be starting a list.

Can’t wait to read with ya’ll!

………….

Here’s the tentative list of people who have shown interest in Mrs. Dalloway specifically, or have signed up for all four books. If I’ve left anyone out, please shout! And of course no one is held to anything by being listed here. It’s really just to help me keep track.

Amy – The House of the Seven Tails
Amy – New Century Reading
Andi – Tripping Toward Lucidity
Anthony – Times Flow Stemmed
Bellezza – Dolce Bellezza
Care – Care’s Online Book Club
Claire – Kiss a cloud
Ds – third-storey window
Emily – Evening All Afternoon
EL Fay – This Book and I Could Be Friends
Eva – A Striped Armchair
Frances – Nonsuch Book
Jackie – Farmlanebooks Book Blog
JoAnn – Lakeside Musing
J. S. Payton – BiblioAddict
Julia – A Number of Things
Karen – BookBath
Lena – Save Ophelia
Lu – Regular Rumination
Mark David – Absorbed in Words
Nina – J’adorehappyendings
Rebecca – Rebecca Reads
Richard – Caravana de recuerdos
Sandy – You’ve GOTTA read this!
Simon – Savidge Reads
Tiina – A Book Blog of One’s Own
uncertainprinciples – another cookie crumbles
Vasilly – 1330v
Victoria – Views from the Page and the Oven
Violet – Manila Folder

[Updated :    FLASHBACK CHALLENGE website is HERE!!      Buttons maybe sometime later.  ]

I’m challenging myself in 2010 to re-read a few books.

I never re-read books!

So.   Since Jenny seemed so upset to hear this, I decided I needed to try this strange experience with more study.  Besides, somebody somewhere said to really read a book, it must be in the second or third time.     (I’ll go look up that quote – I’m butchering it, I’m sure.   I think it was Nabokov.)

Here’s my list:

Mrs. Dalloway / Virginia Woolf

Wind, Sand and Stars – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (my review of reading it the first time)

Are You There God?  It’s Me, Margaret / Judy Blume

Jane Eyre – because I feel like I’m lying when I say I’ve read this but surely.  Surely!  I did read this already, right?   maybe not.   I can’t really remember.    I know I know the story, so let’s see if I can get through a ‘read’.

and… after finding out about a LOTR challenge, I’m considering diving into The Hobbit.

sigh

“Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader. And I shall tell you why. When we read a book for the first time the very process of laboriously moving our eyes from left to right, line after line, page after page, this complicated physical work upon the book, the very process of learning in terms of space and time what the book is about, this stands between us and artistic appreciation. When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development. The element of time does not really enter in a first contact with a painting. In reading a book, we must have time to acquaint ourselves with it. We have no physical organ (as we have the eye in regard to a painting) that takes in the whole picture and then can enjoy its details. But at a second, or third, or fourth reading we do, in a sense, behave towards a book as we do towards a painting.”

-Nabokov’s Lecture on Literature

and another quote for you entertainment:

“Tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are” is true enough, but I’d know you better if you told me what you reread. ”
— François Mauriac

Yea, I don’t think Frank would bother getting to know me very well.

The official Challenge site offers up a few levels to commit to (My FIVE books fits into the Scholar level) and also suggests re-reading books from various time periods of your life:   childhood (AYTGIMM – first read in 1976 of 1977), high school (Jane Eyre – early 80’s), adulthood (Mrs. Dalloway – 2002 when I was prepping for the full The Hours movie experience).

Não tinha consciência, aquela música. Não reconhecia a ventura nem a desgraça de ninguém, e por isso mesmo era consoladora, até para aqueles que haviam sondado os últimos vislumbres de consciência na face de um moribundo.

- Romance: Mrs. Dalloway, tradução de Mário Quintana, pág. 130.

Não se pode negar a influência e contribuição da literatura para o cinema, seja ela da mais variada forma ou nos mais variados gêneros. As Horas é um drama forte e encantador, baseado no livro homônimo do escritor norte-americano Michael Cunningham, que por sua vez se inspirou no romance Mrs. Dalloway de Virginia Woolf. Cunningham acabou pegando emprestado o título provisório do livro de Virginia. Tudo em homenagem à grande escritora.

Com roteiro escrito por David Hare  e dirigido por Stephen Daldry (o mesmo de Billy Elliot), este filme denso de 114 minutos, conta em seu elenco com  participação de Nicole Kidman, Julianne Moore, Meryl Streep e Ed Harris. É fácil notar que a parceria dos envolvidos no projeto funcionou bem.

Na história, que segue bem a criação de Cunningham, somos apresentados a três tempos interpostos, contando enredos distintos entre si em espaço e tempo, mas que ao com o decorrer dos fatos vai se alinhando e se relacionando. Primeiramente temos um subúrbio de Londres em 1923 quando Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman) escreve o livro Mrs. Dalloway; um subúrbio de Los Angeles em 1949 quando Laura Brown (Julianne Moore) ler avidamente o livro de Virginia e por fim Nova Iorque em 1990 quando Clarissa Vaugham (Meryl Streep) vive sua vidinha já descrita por Virgínia e lida por Laura. Só esse pequeno demonstrativo do que acontece já é um chamariz mais que eficiente para o filme (ou livro, os dois), mas é muito mais que isso.

Há verdades, mistérios, realidades tudo perfeitamente encaixado em uma história bem construída e justificada. É notável a semelhança na vida das três mulheres que lutam por suas vidas próprias e por se livrar de algemas a elas impostas por sociedades em diferentes épocas, podendo ser observado que a época contribui para o destino de cada uma, tudo resultante de suas escolhas. Algo nitidamente presente é a menção à guerra seja ela inspirativa para Virginia em seu romance de 1923, explicita em um herói de 1949, ou meramente na metáfora sobre o aidético Richard (Ed Harris).

É notório que o tema central da história é a identidade das personagens, e isso é acentuado no filme quando somos colocados diante da questão sexual de cada uma delas, parece que a atração pelo mesmo sexo é mais um ponto comum entre as três, além do sofrimento causado não apenas por isso. São pessoas aprisionadas em vidas que não lhes pertencem. É agradável ver como atitudes diferentes em relação ao sofrimento ou algo comum, pode resultar em finais distintos, e que para isso basta apenas um pouco de reflexão.

O título nomeia bem uma trama que é contada em horas e instantes, sejam eles causadores ou decisivos de tudo que gira em torno das escolhas disponíveis a cada um. São de momentos cruciais que nós somos levados acima ou abaixo, como resultados dessas escolhas. Se formos notar dias inteiros não medem um único sentimento, horas sim, elas são mais precisas, é através delas a forma mais correta de se medir a vida. Recomendo a todos esse belo filme, e os livros também (As Horas e Mrs.Dalloway).

Trailer:

Being able to download Virginia Woolf novels to Apple’s sleek little iPod means we can now carry her words with us anywhere we go.  Because so far, I haven’t found a pocket that the gizmo — stocked with Woolf novels — doesn’t fit in.

Here’s my story. I bought an IPod touch a few weeks ago. Since then, I have spent way too much time searching for and downloading fun, interesting and useful iPod Apps.

I won’t bore you Woolfians with my love for the AP Stylebook App that set me back $29 but is worth every penny. Nor will I discuss the free Italian lessons I’m taking on my iPod or the Rachel Maddow shows I’m watching or the multiple Twitter accounts I’m following via TweetDeck.

But I will gladly tell you about the Apps I found that are related to Virginia:

• The Virginia Woolf Collection – Nine of Woolf’s novels. Cost: $2.99
• “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Study Guide and Quiz. Cost: 99 cents
• Three versions of Night and Day at a cost of 99 cents each
• Mrs. Dalloway. Cost: $17.99
• Vanessa and Virginia by Susan Sellers. Cost: $9.99
• Orlando Study Guide and Quiz. Cost: 99 cents
• To the Lighthouse Study Guide and Quiz. Cost: 99 cents

The best news is that if you want to get Woolf novels for free, and you have an iPod touch or an iPhone, you can. Here’s how:

1. Download the free Kindle App for the iPod touch and the iPhone from the App Store.
2. Visit Amazon.com’s Kindle store. Search for Virginia Wolf. Sort your search by price so you can easily spot the free downloads.
3. Download The Voyage Out, Jacob’s Room and Night and Day for free.
4. Relax in the knowledge that no matter where you travel, you can always have Virginia in your pocket.

More of Woolf’s published work is available as Kindle e-books for under $2, including Monday and Tuesday and The Early Works of Virginia Woolf.

Denn wenn man in Westminster gelebt hatte – wie viele Jahre

jetzt? über zwanzig -, fühlte man selbst mitten im Verkehr oder

beim nächtlichen Wachen, Clarissa war ganz sicher, eine besondere

Stille oder Erhabenheit; eine unbeschreibliche Pause;

eine Beschwernis (aber das konnte ihr Herz sein, hieß es, das von

der Grippe geschwächt war), bevor Big Ben schlägt. Da! Voll

dröhnte er. Erst eine Warnung, melodisch; dann die Stunde,

unwiederruflich. Die bleiernen Kreise lösten sich auf in der Luft.

Was für Narren wir sind, dachte sie, die Victoria Street überquerend.

.. aber sie fand ihn (Hugh), auf seine Weise,

ganz in Ordnung, obgleich er Richard mehr oder minder rasend

machte, und was Peter Walsh anging, der hatte ihr bis zum heutigen

Tage nie verziehen, daß sie ihn mochte.

Spielte es dann eine Rolle, fragte sie sich, Richtung bond Street

gehend, spielte es eine Rolle, daß sie unvermeidlich ganz und gar

aufhören würde zu sein; all das musste ohne sie weitergehen;

bedauerte sie das; oder war es nich tröstlich zu glauben, daß der

Tod allem das absolute Ende setzte? aber da sie irgendwie in den

Straßen Londons, in der Ebbe und Flut der Dinge,

hier, da, weiterlebte,

Peter weiterlebte, einer im anderen weiterlebte, da sie doch, und

da war sie sicher, ein Teil der Bäume zu Hause war; des Hauses

dort, häßlich, weitläufig sich windend in allen Ecken und Enden,

wie es war;

Denn die Unterhaussitzungen dauerten so lange, dass Richard,

nach ihrer Krankheit darauf bestanden hatte, daß sie (Clarissa)

ungestört schlafen müsse. Und es war ihr tatsächlich lieber, vom Rückzug aus Moskau zu lesen.

Es wusste es. Daher war das Zimmer eine Dachstube;

das Bett schmal; und wenn sie dort lag und laß, denn sie schlief

schlecht, konnte sie eine über das Kindbett gerettete Jungfräulichkeit, die sie umschloss wie ein Laken, nicht austreiben.

(…) Und dann in Konstantinopel, und wieder und wieder.

Sie konnte sehen, was ihr fehle. Es war nicht Schönheit; es war nicht Klugheit; Es war etwas Wesentliches, das eindringen konnte; etwas Warmes, daß die Oberfläche durchbrach und den kalten Kontakt zwischen Mann und frau aufrührte, oder zwischen Frauen.

Denn *das* konnte sie undeutlich spüren. Sie stieß sich daran, hatte, der Himmel weiß wo, ein Vorurteil dagegen aufgelesen. (..)

doch sie konnte manchmal nich wiederstehen, sich dem Reiz einer

Frau auszuliefern, nicht eines Mädchens, einer Frau; (..)

wie ein kaum wahrnehmbarer Duft, oder eine Geige nebenann (so seltsam ist die Macht der Töne in gewissen Augenblicken),

sie fühlte dann  fraglos, was Männer fühlten. Nur für einen Augenblick; aber das war genug.

(…)

Aber diese Frage der Liebe (dachte sie, als sie ihren Mantel in den Schrank hängte), dieses Verlieben in Frauen.

Sally Senton etwa; ihre Beziehung zu Sally Senton damals.

War das nicht, trotz allem, Liebe gewesen?

(….) aber ich werde es Clarissa zeigen – und dann, zu seiner (Peter Walsh) äußersten Überraschung, plötzlich von diesen unbeugsamen Kräften geschleudert, durch die Luft geschleudert,

brach er in Tränen aus; weinte; weinte ohne die geringste Scham, auf dem Sofa sitzend, und die tränen liefen an seinen Wangen herunter.

Und Clarissa hatte sich vorgebeugt, seine Hand ergriffen, ihn an sich gezogen, ihn geküsst – hatte wirklich sein Gesicht an ihrem gefühlt (…) und plötzlich schlug es alles über ihr zusammen: Wenn ich ihn geheiratet hätte, hätte ich diese Heiterkeit Tag für Tag!

(….)

“Meine Gesellschaft! Denk an meine Gesellschaftheute abend!”, rif sie und musste ihre Stimme gegen den Krach von draußen erheben,

und überwältigt von dem Verkehr und dem Klang all der schlagenden Glocken, hörte sich ihre Stimme, die “Denk an meine Gesellschaft heute abend!” rief, schwach und dünn und sehr fern an, als Peter Walshdie Tür schloss.

Tematrion handlar om film och jag gör det enkelt för mig genom att fokusera på filmer som är lika bra eller bättre än boken. Alltså där filmen är ett eget verk med konstnärligt värde.

1. Virgin suicides. Sofia Coppolas debutfilm, på Jeffrey Eugenides roman.

2. Harry Potter. JK Rowlings skrev, regissörerna har varit olika.

3. The Hours. Filmen med Nicole Kidman, Julianne Moore och Meryl Streep är fantastisk. Michael Cunningham skrev boken, Virginia Woolf skrev Mrs Dalloway.

———————–
Läs även andra bloggares åsikter om bok blir film, Jeffrey Eugenides, Sofia Coppola, Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, Nicole Kidman, The Hours, Michael Cunningham, Harry Potter, Sirus Black, Gary Oldman, Daniel Radcliffe, Mrs Dalloway, meta, Virginia Woolf, J K Rowlings, Virgin suicides

If you live in the Bay Area, you can go to Mrs. Dalloway’s party. It’s an evening of short stories written by Virginia Woolf and performed by an ensemble of actors at St. Mary’s College of California.

According to the school’s Web site, “Wry observations and elegant prose come to life onstage through some of Woolf’s most amusing characters-ordinary women and men whose anxious thoughts and social predicaments make this party a night to remember.”

The production is directed by guest artist Delia MacDougall, a founding member of Word for Word Performing Arts Company in San Francisco.

Performances are scheduled on:

• Thursday, Nov. 12, 8 p.m.
• Friday, Nov. 13, 8 p.m.
• Saturday, Nov. 14, 8 p.m.
• Friday, Nov. 20, 8 p.m.
• Saturday, Nov. 21, 8 p.m.
• Sunday, Nov.15 & 22, at 2 p.m.

James Joyce detailed Leopold Bloom’s day in Dublin. Virginia Woolf followed Clarissa Dalloway through London on a fine day in June. Ian McEwan told Henry Perowne’s tale on a post-Sept. 11 Saturday in February. And Christopher Isherwood described one day in the life of an ageing professor named George in his 1964 novel A Single Man.

That novel has now been made into a film produced and directed by Tom Ford, who also co-authored the screenplay. And when I read his comments about the impact A Single Man had on him, I saw another similarity to Mrs. Dalloway.

Ford said he first read Isherwood’s novel when he was in his twenties, and the book stuck with him. But it wasn’t until he read it again years later, when he was in his late forties, that he says he found “the book resonated with me in an entirely different way.” Ford called it ”a deeply spiritual story.”

That’s how I felt about Mrs. Dalloway. I was 20 when I first read it and was duly impressed by Woolf’s thinking and her magical way with words. But I didn’t really get Clarissa Dalloway.

When I reread the novel 20 years later, I did. After marriage and children and the winding ways of life, I could understand much more about Clarissa.

But not everything. Each time I reread the novel, I get to know her better. 

That’s why I think these instructions should be on each of Woolf’s novels: Read. Think. Repeat.

“Era essencialmente feminina; com esse extraordinário dom, peculiar às mulheres, de fazer-se num mundo próprio, onde quer que se encontrasse.”

- Romance: Mrs. Dalloway, tradução de Mário Quintana

I’ve been dipping into these books frequently since I found them at bookshops where I wasn’t supposed to by buying anything. “I’m just going to look, for future reference,” is a thought I like to entertain but don’t, usually.

But after all, both are reference books, books that every good library collection needs. I have always wondered why J. D. Salinger wrote A Catcher in the Rye, and Jenny Bond and Chris Sheedy claim to know. And how could I pass up a book that contained a “walking tour” of Mrs. Dalloway’s London as well as maps of the city in Shakespeare and Dickins’s time? I mean, look at this:

So far both books are worthwhile, although the histories and stories in Who the Hell is Pansy O’Hara are a little simplistic and nothing that you couldn’t find on the Wikipedia site. I like having it on hand though, so that I can find out in a quick hurry how the writing of Bridget Jones’ Diary came about! Literary Landscapes, etc. is fabulous though, and a map geek and book dork’s dream.

I will admit that both books are a bit of a distraction, when Proust gets exhausting and I can’t take a moment more of Dona Flor’s dramatics!

“Fear no more the heat of the sun.  She must go back to them.  But what an extraordinary night!  She felt somehow very like him–the young man who had killed himself….He made her feel the beauty; made her feel the fun.”

Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

The Rutgers fall semester is now approximately halfway over.  I’ve taken my first round of exams and written the first assigned papers.  With the school workload at its height, things couldn’t be more stressful.  My blood pressure will remain consistently higher than normal for the next couple of weeks and the hours I sleep will most likely be cut in half.  My new job (which I LOVE) is also now in full swing and the hours can be long and tiring.  Just now I am writing after a long day of class and work.

It’s times like these that encouragement is a must.  When all seems wrong in the world and classes seem as if they will never lighten their load, I am reminded that my ability to live in the present is the most powerful, consistent thing in my life.  If Clarissa Dalloway, a middle-aged woman who is dying, finds the will to love life in the present, then my college workload must be comparable to rainbows and butterflies.

And still, as I reason my way out of pitying myself, I laugh at my continual anxiety and need for sleep.  It must be plight of the college student.

Yes...yes it is.

However aware I am of these struggles, I am latching on to them like a rollercoaster ride. And maybe that rollercoaster is never-ending. I’ve come to realize that I’m the most indecisive, ever-changing, inconclusive, impractical, irrational, most uncertain character in the world I know. Write a book about me, and I guarantee you, every chapter is a new epiphany – an epiphany that only starts and ends in my mind, where action & execution never takes place. If you have ever read Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, you know that experiences, emotions, feelings, memories, etc are triggered by almost everything and any little thing. What comes from where, what comes from what. I’d like someone to write a book about me, Dalloway style. Get inside my head, you will probably die trying to come out. -Does that sound right?

Pardon me. Are life crises true? I mean, everyone eventually gets back up right?

I have no idea why I am here, or I’ve completely lost it. I keep forgetting why I chose to come here. I have these schizophrenic monologues/dialogues with myself fully convincing me that I’m here because of . And these reasons are constantly changing, every fucking day. Today, I am applying for [a program which will remained undisclosed]. Yesterday, I thought, “why the fuck am I applying for this when I’m in New York.” The first couple of weeks, I was completely determined to score a job, and I was actually willing to virtually do anything. And then the interviews started rolling in, and then the job offers. And then I rejected them? Ok, I exaggerate. I didn’t get that many offers, maybe like one. But still, where was the “I am willing and determined Alexin go?” And other days, I would think it rational to find an internship that would lead me on the path towards a writing career. But then I would need job? A paying job. And then I thought of my teaching hopes and dreams, and then I get rejected. And then interview for administrative assistant positions and only find out that I am an inept excel user. Who the fuck am I? What the fuck do I want?

Before I made the grand move to the city of big dreams and nightmares, I dreamt of living that paycheck to paycheck life in my small studio apartment eating nothing but canned corn and chips. Cramped, poor, but happy because I had my pen, paper and laptop w/ high-speed internet. I was determined, then. What is writing to me? Nothing now I guess. Just a bunch of words. Where did that dream go? These dreams of mine are stacked up on top of each other like a deck of playing cards thrown across a living room. No one to pick it up, everyone too lazy to find the ace of hearts hiding underneath the couch.

And I can’t really take advice from anyone because, like my mother told me this morning “It’s up to you, Alexin.” Yeah yeah mom, I know. And then I complain and blab in my journal about this desire to “take control.” Um? I have full control, but how am I suppose to take control when I have no idea what it is I want. I just have no fucking clue. Am I here to have fun, or go to grad school. Make money and live on my own? Answer life’s unanswerable questions? Perhaps.

Now that I’ve vented, I will most likely go on facebook for 23742 minutes, browse aimlessly through blogs and other social spheres of the internet, and do only 25% of what I had originally intended to do which was something “productive.”

]]> http://deliciouswords.wordpress.com/2009/10/16/thoughts-on-a-gloomy-new-brunswick-day/ Fri, 16 Oct 2009 06:11:33 +0000 Emily http://deliciouswords.wordpress.com/2009/10/16/thoughts-on-a-gloomy-new-brunswick-day/

What is Time?

“Still the sun was hot.  Still, one got over things.  Still, life had a way of adding day to day. Still, he thought, yawning and beginning to take notice–Regent’s Park had changed very little since he was a boy…”

Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

This passage is beautiful in the way it moves from the sensual experience of the sun’s heat to abstract thought and back again to sensual experience through the image of the park.  However, in spite of the passage’s movement, its message remains in focus: Time is a construction that begs us to take notice of Its presence.  It marks things of constancy and change in our lives.  Time distorts memory and holds the future.

In many ways, Time is the master of our lives, for we are forever in servitude to Its intrusion into every aspect of our lives.  Time is not simply the organizer of our date books and the ringer of church bells, but It is the force that moves us from place to place in our daily lives.  It is the quantifier of our work and relationships.

It is not peculiar, then that we, like the characters in Woolf’s novel, are fascinated by the thought of time.  Time is the great heroic archenemy, whom we trust to lead us down to Hell.

“O amor torna a gente solitária.”

- Romance: Mrs. Dalloway, tradução de Mário Quintana

Book Cove: Mrs. Dalloway

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf is considered to be one of the best novels she ever wrote. This novel comprises of topics such as the life after World War I, feminism, homosexuality, mental illness, existential issues and the general hypocrisy that went around in the English society.

Mrs. Dalloway is the story of Clarissa Dalloway’s life related in the events of one day, with the exceptions of flashbacks, which will end up with her hosting a dinner party at her house. Clarissa goes around London enjoying the day and preparing everything for her dinner party. She likes giving them since it is a way for her to gather up people and create good memories. Though out the day we can see the coming and going in her present life and the one she had and could’ve have. She had strong feelings for Sally Seton, with whom she had the happiest moment of her life when they kissed. She also wondered how her life could have been if she had married Peter Walsh, a charismatic man, instead of Richard Dalloway the reliable kind of man. She also talks about the way doctors treated the illnesses of war veterans and those with mental illnesses and the disinterest in the patient’s actual state of mind. Something Woolf had battled with her own bipolarity case.

After a full day of doing and thinking, the diner party is already on the way, many of the guests are people she saw during the day or thought about. In the middle of the party she is told that the war veteran has committed suicide by jumping out of a window and she regards this as an effort to preserve the purity of his own happiness. The jumping out of the window was something Woolf had attempted on doing, but did not finish what she started until she committed suicide by drowning.

There has much talk been said about how society influences on one’s life and how sometimes we see no answer but to put an end to it. It is a shame that it is us who impose these rules upon ourselves and even if it maintains an order of chaos, it does not secures happiness. This book was made a motion picture called The Hours original title it had been giving to the novel.

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to send in a biography for Esprit de Corps Literary Magazine, a publication I am proud to be fiction editor for (the inaugural issue will come out in December). Along with the bios, it was suggested that we might want to throw in some top tens – books, films, whatever – so that the editors and the boss can humanise themselves a little for the readership. I’m never very good at top tens of anything, as my choices would be different from one day to another, depending on what mood I’m in or what I have just been reading. But there are some books that I know I will read over and over throughout my life, so I went for ten of those. They are not necessarily the books I think are the greatest that have ever been written, but they are the ones which consistently speak to me. Some I have grown up with, some are relatively new to me. What would your ten books be?

Fight Club – Chuck Palahniuk

Bleak House – Charles Dickens

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams

Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell

Narziss Und Goldmund – Hermann Hess

The Trial – Franz Kafka

One H undred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Mrs Dalloway – Virginia Woolf

The God of Small Things – Arandhati Roy

The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin – David Nobbs

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“Ela sentia mais profundamente, mais apaixonadamente, cada ano que passava. E aquilo aumentava, suspirava ele; mas antes devíamos alegrar-nos: aquilo aumentava com a experiência.”

- Romance: Mrs. Dalloway, tradução de Mário Quintana