Whilst necessarily dealing with the mundane chores & typical events of daily life there are numerous insightful physical and emotional characterisations & anecdotes that bring life to some of the great writers and thinkers of the day; Aldous Huxley, Maynard Keynes, Lytton Strachey to name but 3.
And all set against the Great War backdrop. Mention of the dead & wounded (and their aftercare or not), food & coal shortages, nightly bombing raids on the capital, conscription, pro & anti-war rhetoric. Most days bring reference to the weather - some of the worst for years by all accounts which sparks images of and provides explanation for the horrendous mud in the killing fields a few miles East.
On the political front there is suffrage, the early throes of the Labour party & open debate of socialist principles.
In the round all of these observations accidentally combine to give the reader a great feel for an interesting period of history, when the war to end all wars merely led to a change in tactics, emancipation began but remains unfinished, domestic service to the upper middle classes was waning as better wages & conditions could be found elsewhere and free-thinkers found audiences.
The honest & unedited end of day ramblings, written in a staccato style give the impression of a sense of urgency on the author's part to lay down thoughts whilst they are fresh or are remembered. Indeed, at some point she makes reference herself to this matter & the frustration she feels when guests stay late & trains of thought evaporate. We all suffer this fate and indeed I was just settling off to sleep myself last night when I was compelled to rise & get these musings down. As usual, the intent was to jot down some bullets & return to flesh things out in the morning but I ended up typing by the light of the laptop through the early hours.
A tremendous command of the english language & the now slightly antique sentence structure in Woolf's writing appeal greatly. I say 'antique' because my guess is that even today's 'serious' authors write prose in a more current lilt. Guessing is necessary because, as I remarked in a previous entry, my voracious reading days were in my youth.
Now, if one were to ask 10 different readers for a list of 10 must-read books I daresay there would be few duplicates in those 100 tomes presented for consideration. I would expect a spattering of Shakespeare, Greek Classics, perhaps some 19th century poetry anthologies, Brontes, Austen, Huxley, Orwell, a bit of French, Russian & North American, maybe a Booker winner or two. I will dust the cobwebs of my mind & try to come up with my own list presently.
Then, where should one begin?
Be very happy to hear from anyone with a list or comment.
