To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: Day 12
Part III, Chapters 3-4
Chapter 3
Let no one ever say Virginia Woolf is a “domestic” novelist (implication: a merely domestic novelist.) Her characters grapple with all the eternal questions.
“What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one. This, that, and the other; herself and Charles Tansley and the breaking wave; Mrs. Ramsay bringing them together; Mrs. Ramsay saying ‘Life stand still here’; Mrs. Ramsay making of the moment something permanent (as in another sphere Lily herself tried to make of the moment something permanent)—this was of the nature of a revelation.”
This seems to me—always—Woolf’s revelation.
The Moment was all; the moment was enough. [The Waves]
“Life stand still here, Mrs. Ramsay said. ‘Mrs. Ramsay! Mrs. Ramsay!’ she repeated. She owed it all to her.
Chapter 4
The children, now teenagers, have only one parent. They’ve lost two siblings.
“Cam now felt herself overcast, as she sat there among calm, resolute people and wondered how to answer her father about the puppy; how to resist his entreaty—forgive me, care for me; while James the lawgiver, with the tablets of eternal wisdom laid open on his knee (his hand on the tiller had become symbolical to her), said, Resist him. Fight him. He said so rightly; justly. For they must fight tyranny to the death, she thought.”
Join us on May 15 for a virtual discussion of To the Lighthouse with Mona Simpson.
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“Life stand still here” seems like a fine intention for a morning meditation practice. Matches struck unexpectedly in the dark. Shape in the midst of chaos. And as I write these words, the croak of a roadrunner hunting for lizards in my back yard. Part Two of this book was rough sailing for me at this particular moment in my life, but I have reached calm waters again. Story stand still here.
"There was a flash of blue, he remembered, and then somebody sitting with him laughed, surrendered, and he was very angry." Again, Mrs. Ramsay knows all: she predicted that James would never forget the disappointment of not going to to the Lighthouse. Interestingly, though, although he is remembering that afternoon, he is also remembering his mother's acquiescence to his father. And that "flash of blue." I like how it echoes the flash of the knitting needles in that moment, but what else? A shadow created by the presence of his father? A glimpse of the sea that was then blocked by him? His father's eyes? Perhaps all of the above.