Sunday, May 16, 2004

woolf and bed-ridden

cover "Why did you get sick?" my father asks me irritably, after spending the afternoon doing some kind of strenuous (for him) work outside on the lawn so that it looks exactly the same. What kind of question is that? My mother dismisses me with a "pfft, it's just allergies, where's your high-paying job" look. Oh parents. Oh I need to move out of the house last week.

Anyways, I veer off track already, as I am bound, by my inner-workings of (il)logic, to do. Have recently just finished Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse and quite possibly am in love with it. For me, Woolf is one of those authors that took a couple of tries before I started getting/enjoying what she was doing. I enjoyed Mrs. Dalloway but To the Lighthouse will take its quiet place among my favorites of books.

Shifting perspectives between the heads of the Ramsey family and their guests, the 'plot' here is all psychological/mental and not traditional 'action.' Writing with stream of consciousness and a kind of poetry that just flows, Woolf seems so excellently to capture inner workings of the mind. The insecurities, how we deal with each other and how we can never really know others because one's own mind and judgments are so enclosed and complex and paradoxical.

My Tylenol-cold sponsored typing cannot express the beauty of this book. It's so damn human. Check it out.

My very exciting life is also occupied by wanting to read Chang-rae Lee's latest book, Aloft . He hangs out with Toni Morrison and Joyce Carol Oates at Princeton and gets bothered by snooty club members. I always thought that Toni Morrison would be mad scary, but people tell me that isn't so. I think I may have made that all up. Ummmm yeah, yay for Asian people who can write!

Quick de-generation into meaninglessness.

1 comment:

mosh said...

Along the lines of quiet, poetic language, try Anne Morrow Lindbergh's A Gift From The Sea. It's a similar sort of stream of consciousness output, albeit very reasonably structured and understandable, and was begun while she was in a room of her own--namely, on a short vacation at a small seaside cabin.