Summer '07 Reading: 'To The Lighthouse' by Virginia Woolf

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Originally Posted by Quark

We've talked about time and death in the story, but I don't think anyone has brought up isolation. Who do you think is isolated? How are they isolated? I wrote something about the large psychological distance separating the characters and Lily's difference from the Ramsays, but do you think there is a broader theme of isolation in the book?

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Absolutely, isolation may be the central theme. Everyone is isolated. Look for it and you'll see it. The writing style compliments that theme perfectly. The writing is all interior monlogue with sporadic and sparse periods of dialogue. If you took all the dialogue in the novel and put it together, I bet it wouldn't add up to ten pages, versus 250 pages of interior thoughts. What does all that interior monologue suggest? Internal isolation that is the human condition.

Also why is the first part of the novel called "The Window?" I'll leave that for you to ponder. When I get up to the specific passage of the window I'll post it and give you my thoughts.

Actually i wanted to look at the first encounter of Lily's painting. Here she is looking at it:

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The jacmanna was bright violet; the wall staring white. She would not have considered it honest to tamper with the bright violet and the staring white, since she saw them like that, fashionable though it was, since Mr Paunceforte’s visit, to see everything pale, elegant, semitransparent. Then beneath the colour there was the shape. She could see it all so clearly, so commandingly, when she looked: it was when she took her brush in hand that the whole thing changed. It was in that moment’s flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child. Such she often felt herself—struggling against terrific odds to maintain her courage; to say: “But this is what I see; this is what I see,” and so to clasp some miserable remnant of her vision to her breast, which a thousand forces did their best to pluck from her. And it was then too, in that chill and windy way, as she began to paint, that there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible. So now she laid her brushes neatly in the box, side by side, and said to William Bankes

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First i take this to be many of Woolf's aesthetics: "Then beneath the colour there was the shape." I think we can see this in the novel, in the way we see the characters. Beneath the visual there is the other part of them; beneath their bodes there is their internal, their mind.

Second, the connection between the external world and the artistic replication of it is a struggle:

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She could see it all so clearly, so commandingly, when she looked: it was when she took her brush in hand that the whole thing changed. It was in that moment’s flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child.

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The demons which prevent art is again the internal mind interfering with the artistic execution.

Third, insecurity that is at the root of her mind's demons is related to her womanhood working in the world of men. Read this again in light of what i just said:

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Such she often felt herself—struggling against terrific odds to maintain her courage; to say: “But this is what I see; this is what I see,” and so to clasp some miserable remnant of her vision to her breast, which a thousand forces did their best to pluck from her. And it was then too, in that chill and windy way, as she began to paint, that there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible. So now she laid her brushes neatly in the box, side by side...

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In another passage, she recounts how men have told her in her life, women can't do this and women can't do that. She has been forced to live a woman's life, "keeping house for her father." But she finds that courage to paint, to express her vision. Her statement, "'But this is what I see'" is a struggle to create her identity. It is to me (and obviously to Woolf) a heroic attempt. [Who says I'm always anti-feminist? :p :D ] Notice two more things: It is to Mrs. Ramsey that she wants to fling herself upon to construct this vision. Remember that at the end of the novel when Lily completes her vision. Notice that she cannot finish here and puts down her brushes when Mr. Bankes comes by. It is the intrusion of the male that inhibits her psychologically from that vision, even though Mr. Bankes is a nice man and she likes him.

Virgil and everyone else, been reading all of your posts tonight and everyone is addressing some key issues here. The posts are great and very insightful. I think 'isolation' is a key theme in the book. I liked the quote by Woolf herself giving us some perspective on her view of just what the lighthouse represented. Interesing since sometimes we all tend to over analyse a work. Always interesting to see just what the author has to say about a particular aspect or image in the book. I think the lighthouse symbol can mean many things, and different things to different people.

Hmm..."The Window"...that certainly suggests much - a private window looking into the private thoughts of others, perhaps? a window looking into a very private world of the Ramsey family.

Does anyone else find it odd the Mrs. Ramsey seems to encourage isolation between James and his father? Maybe I'm looking at it from the wrong perspective, but from what I've read she seems to encourage James to hate his father. Not really by word, as such, but by any lack of action. I'm only about halfway through the story, but she seems to delight that her son "belongs" only to her.

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Originally Posted by mkhockenberry

Does anyone else find it odd the Mrs. Ramsey seems to encourage isolation between James and his father? Maybe I'm looking at it from the wrong perspective, but from what I've read she seems to encourage James to hate his father. Not really by word, as such, but by any lack of action. I'm only about halfway through the story, but she seems to delight that her son "belongs" only to her.

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Hi mkhockenberry, I think this question or something similiar was brooched earlier. I would say that Mrs. Ramsey is not intentionally encouraging James to hate his father, but rather taking on the role of protector of James. Somewhere in her thoughts it is stated that she understands how terribly sensitive and artistic James is. I think she would know instinctively just how much her husband could damage the boy physcologially. She tends to act as protector and leveler for the family and so I don't think it that odd or strange that she especially do so with her youngest child. The mother and father are at odds so often and she knows the hurt and scathing ways of the father, and wants to protect and isolate James from feeling those hurts. Mostly the friction lies between her and her husband but in this case she is the one separating the two who are in constant opposition and friction on the question of going to the lighthouse. Instead of taking his frustrations out sensibly or constructively, Mr. Ramsey tends to rend his frustration into a sort of wrath upon his family, especially using it upon James, who is more vulnerable and I can clearly see Mrs. Ramsey shielding James from this wrath and nastiness of Mr. Ramsey's.
Hope all this makes sense. It is late and I am a bit tired out but I tried to express what I feel about the situation with the three people - James, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey.

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Originally Posted by mkhockenberry

Does anyone else find it odd the Mrs. Ramsey seems to encourage isolation between James and his father? Maybe I'm looking at it from the wrong perspective, but from what I've read she seems to encourage James to hate his father. Not really by word, as such, but by any lack of action. I'm only about halfway through the story, but she seems to delight that her son "belongs" only to her.

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Hmm. Where do you see that Hock? I'm not sure I've ever noticed that. Perhaps you can quote it.

I have found an electronic version of the novel here: http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au...virginia/w91t/

That's where I'm pulling off quotes. I don't think we have here at lit net books.

I'll look through to find the quotes that left me with that impression. It seems like it was a few spread throughout, so I'll look today and try to post them later.

Yes, quotes directly from the book always help and it is laborious to type it out so thanks, Virgil, for posting that link to the story text. I have needed that because, you are correct, TTLH is not available on this site. I am surprised you found the full-text online and free. I will check it out.

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Originally Posted by Virgil

Absolutely, isolation may be the central theme. Everyone is isolated. Look for it and you'll see it. The writing style compliments that theme perfectly. The writing is all interior monlogue with sporadic and sparse periods of dialogue. If you took all the dialogue in the novel and put it together, I bet it wouldn't add up to ten pages, versus 250 pages of interior thoughts. What does all that interior monologue suggest? Internal isolation that is the human condition.

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Well, think carefully here. Is it introversion that separates them? Would you say that Wordsworth's poems had isolated speakers and characters? Wordsworth often wrote about characters who had internal thoughts and were social outsiders; but, at the same time, they don't appear to be isolated. Wordsworth's characters find a way--or the poet found it for them--to turn their narrow personal experiences into universal concepts that can be appreciated by others. His Cumberland Beggar is a lonely exile of the town who can't communicate with anyone around him, but his personal tragedy is somehow translated into a universal idea. Wordsworth writes,

"While thus he creeps
From door to door, the Villagers in him
Behold a record which together binds
Past deeds and offices of charity
Else unremember'd, and so keeps alive
The kindly mood in hearts which lapse of years,
And that half-wisdom, half-experience gives
Make slow to feel, and by sure steps resign
To selfishness and cold oblivious cares" (79-87).

The isolated individual joins the townspeople around him as a fully understandable idea. This doesn't happen often for Woolf's characters, though. But, why is that?

If we look at other books with long internal monologues, it might help. Dostoevsky created a lot of characters that mumbled to themselves. Raskilnokov talked to himself out loud sometimes. Notes from The Underground is one long internal monologue. These protagonist are desperately searching for self respect, and they constantly are trying to reinvent themselves to themselves to gain some sort of confidence. This process isolates them. But, I don't think we can say that the Ramsays are self-seeking individuals. They have some doubts about their lives, but it doesn't amount to the almost pathological self-criticism that Raskilnokov goes through. Another well known internal monologue driven writer is Joyce. His characters had large stores of knowledge and memory which were different for every character. The present would be sifted through each character's own knowledge, connections would be made, and a reality would form. But, no character would end up with the same reality because they didn't make the same connections. The characters get isolated because they can't agree on reality. This is a plausible way for a character to end up in isolation, but I don't think Woolf's characters disagree on the nature of reality or meaning.

So, where are we at? We know that introversion doesn't equal isolation. We know that internal monologue might be a symptom of isolation, but it doesn't tell us what kind of isolation or what's causing it. You brought up Lily and her art. Maybe we should start with her. Why is she isolated?

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Originally Posted by Virgil

First i take this to be many of Woolf's aesthetics: "Then beneath the colour there was the shape." I think we can see this in the novel, in the way we see the characters. Beneath the visual there is the other part of them; beneath their bodes there is their internal, their mind.
Second, the connection between the external world and the artistic replication of it is a struggle:

The demons which prevent art is again the internal mind interfering with the artistic execution.

Third, insecurity that is at the root of her mind's demons is related to her womanhood working in the world of men. Read this again in light of what i just said:

In another passage, she recounts how men have told her in her life, women can't do this and women can't do that. She has been forced to live a woman's life, "keeping house for her father." But she finds that courage to paint, to express her vision. Her statement, "'But this is what I see'" is a struggle to create her identity. It is to me (and obviously to Woolf) a heroic attempt. [Who says I'm always anti-feminist? :p :D ] Notice two more things: It is to Mrs. Ramsey that she wants to fling herself upon to construct this vision. Remember that at the end of the novel when Lily completes her vision. Notice that she cannot finish here and puts down her brushes when Mr. Bankes comes by. It is the intrusion of the male that inhibits her psychologically from that vision, even though Mr. Bankes is a nice man and she likes him.

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There, now we have three good reasons. Lily is isolated because of insecurity, sexism, and the "internal mind". Insecurity is pretty easy to understand--especially for me. We know that could cause a person not to express themselves and end up alone. I think we understand how sexism could isolate a person, too. This "internal mind" is a little harder to grasp. I already said that introversion isn't a cause of isolation, so the word internal isn't relevant. Really, we want to know what the word "mind" means. You said that beneath the visual there is a hidden form. What is this form?

Another passage where Lily is painting refers to this form. Except this time, it's referred to as a rhythm. Woolf writes that Lily senses a something "which was dictated to her...so that while her hand quivered with life, this rhythm was strong enough to bear her along with it on its current". Now that have the word rhythm to word with I can find a similar statement in Woolf's Letters to work with. Woolf wrote, "Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm...Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in mind, long before it makes words to fit it". Perhaps, if we can go from "form" to "rhythm", the next step might be to "emotion". Is emotion what's being written about? Is that also what separates the characters?

I must say Quark this is a really exellent post.

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Originally Posted by Quark

Well, think carefully here. Is it introversion that separates them? Would you say that Wordsworth's poems had isolated speakers and characters? Wordsworth often wrote about characters who had internal thoughts and were social outsiders; but, at the same time, they don't appear to be isolated. Wordsworth's characters find a way--or the poet found it for them--to turn their narrow personal experiences into universal concepts that can be appreciated by others. His Cumberland Beggar is a lonely exile of the town who can't communicate with anyone around him, but his personal tragedy is somehow translated into a universal idea. Wordsworth writes,

"While thus he creeps
From door to door, the Villagers in him
Behold a record which together binds
Past deeds and offices of charity
Else unremember'd, and so keeps alive
The kindly mood in hearts which lapse of years,
And that half-wisdom, half-experience gives
Make slow to feel, and by sure steps resign
To selfishness and cold oblivious cares" (79-87).

The isolated individual joins the townspeople around him as a fully understandable idea. This doesn't happen often for Woolf's characters, though. But, why is that?

If we look at other books with long internal monologues, it might help. Dostoevsky created a lot of characters that mumbled to themselves. Raskilnokov talked to himself out loud sometimes. Notes from The Underground is one long internal monologue. These protagonist are desperately searching for self respect, and they constantly are trying to reinvent themselves to themselves to gain some sort of confidence. This process isolates them. But, I don't think we can say that the Ramsays are self-seeking individuals. They have some doubts about their lives, but it doesn't amount to the almost pathological self-criticism that Raskilnokov goes through. Another well known internal monologue driven writer is Joyce. His characters had large stores of knowledge and memory which were different for every character. The present would be sifted through each character's own knowledge, connections would be made, and a reality would form. But, no character would end up with the same reality because they didn't make the same connections. The characters get isolated because they can't agree on reality. This is a plausible way for a character to end up in isolation, but I don't think Woolf's characters disagree on the nature of reality or meaning.

So, where are we at? We know that introversion doesn't equal isolation. We know that internal monologue might be a symptom of isolation, but it doesn't tell us what kind of isolation or what's causing it. You brought up Lily and her art. Maybe we should start with her. Why is she isolated?

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I understand what you're saying. Style like symbolism can have multiple meaning. One has to put into context of the rest of the work. And the rest of To The Lighthouse has isolation everywhere. The isolaton of the lighthouse keeper is one point. I will point it out more as I read on and come across it.

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There, now we have three good reasons. Lily is isolated because of insecurity, sexism, and the "internal mind". Insecurity is pretty easy to understand--especially for me. We know that could cause a person not to express themselves and end up alone. I think we understand how sexism could isolate a person, too. This "internal mind" is a little harder to grasp. I already said that introversion isn't a cause of isolation, so the word internal isn't relevant. Really, we want to know what the word "mind" means. You said that beneath the visual there is a hidden form. What is this form?

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Great question. I'm not sure Woolf answers that. Of course "mind" was my term. I struggled to find the right word. Personality perhaps is a another but still not perfect word. I'm referring to the interior self. Whatever the word, I think Woolf has created dichoteme between the interior and exterior. And I still believe that the over emphasis on the interior supports her theme of personal isolation.

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Another passage where Lily is painting refers to this form. Except this time, it's referred to as a rhythm. Woolf writes that Lily senses a something "which was dictated to her...so that while her hand quivered with life, this rhythm was strong enough to bear her along with it on its current". Now that have the word rhythm to word with I can find a similar statement in Woolf's Letters to work with. Woolf wrote, "Style is a very simple matter; it is all rhythm...Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in mind, long before it makes words to fit it". Perhaps, if we can go from "form" to "rhythm", the next step might be to "emotion". Is emotion what's being written about? Is that also what separates the characters?

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Rhythm connects with the other theme of time, the cycles of time such as the seasons and the ocean waves, and life's death and rebirth. This is a book with a vast scope and remarkably broad for just 300 pages.

Something from the NYT book review section about "To the Lighthouse" http://theater2.nytimes.com/2007/03/...s/03ligh.html# quasimodo1 ps: two pages

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Originally Posted by Virgil

Great question. I'm not sure Woolf answers that. Of course "mind" was my term. I struggled to find the right word. Personality perhaps is a another but still not perfect word. I'm referring to the interior self. Whatever the word, I think Woolf has created dichotomy between the interior and exterior. And I still believe that the over emphasis on the interior supports her theme of personal isolation.

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Yeah, I think you right to say that To the Lighthouse focuses more on the internal thoughts of the characters rather than the external action around them. Agreed. But, I don't think that means isolation. I think what creates isolation is the focus on the personal over the universal. A lot of writers do this--I tried to make a short list earlier. The problem is that the personal can mean many things: a psychological ego, an individual's circumstances, or even a person's own sensations. These could all be considered personal experiences; yet, what I'm curious to know is what particular personal experiences Woolf writes about, why they isolate characters, and what do I think of living the kind of life Woolf writes about. I'm thinking that To the Lighthouse is made up of the emotional experiences of the characters. Intense emotions like fear, distrust, remorse, love, and nostalgia move the story. These emotions are very personal. The characters have problems communicating them because--as you pointed out earlier--expression is blocked by self-doubt, unfair societal criticism, and disruptive psychological turmoil. But, before I start to make judgments on all of this, I would like to make sure I'm certain, and you still insist that introversion causes their isolation. I don't know if introversion alone could isolate. Introversion means that the characters live their lives within themselves, derive importance from their inner resources, and seek inner perfection over external triumph. I don't think we can say this about the Ramsays--or really anyone--in this book. Tansley wants academic achievement, Mr. Ramsay wants lasting praise, Mrs. Ramsay wants marriages, and Lily desires society's acceptance and acclaim. All of these goals are external. So it seems like we have extroverted characters who are separated, not by their preference for the internal, but by their personal emotions which are uncommunicable.

I hope I'm not pushing to hard on this point. I don't mean to make you come to conclusions if you haven't gotten to the end or if you simply don't care. I just thought it was an important idea.

Sorry I haven't posted those quotes yet. I've been sidetracked by other things and I just forgot. I'm going to try and get to it this week. I'm also trying to finish the book so I can talk a little more about what I've gotten from the book.

17 critical essays on "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Wolfe...http://www.bookrags.com/criticisms/To_the_Lighthouse quasimodo1

I've been really busy with work and fairly spent in the evenings so I apologize for being slow with either responding or pushing the discussion forward. But I have slowly been reading and I have come across two passages that specifically respond to issues brought up within this thread. First in reply to those who think that Mrs. Ramsey doesn't love her husband there is this:

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A shadow was on the page; she looked up. It was Augustus Carmichael shuffling past, precisely now, at the very moment when it was painful to be reminded of the inadequacy of human relationships, that the most perfect was flawed, and could not bear the examination which, loving her husband, with her instinct for truth, she turned upon it; when it was painful to feel herself convicted of unworthiness, and impeded in her proper function by these lies, these exaggerations...

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Notice she is thinking of the "inadequacy of human relationships". So yes, her marriage is not perfect, but she also says "the most perfect was flawed, and could not bear the examination which, loving her husband, with her instinct for truth, she turned upon it." I think she is being very frank. "Loving her husband" is an honest expression, supported by the further honesty of it being "flawed". Notice also how just like Lilly, she feels inadequate personally, and within the context one can draw out that its root is her womanhood in comparison to the male world.

The other passage I wanted to highlight is in respect to the theme of isolation. Lilly in her complete admiration and love of Mrs. Ramsey is laying her head on her lap and trying to understand her and what makes her so special.

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Was it wisdom? Was it knowledge? Was it, once more, the deceptiveness of beauty, so that all one’s perceptions, half way to truth, were tangled in a golden mesh? or did she lock up within her some secret which certainly Lily Briscoe believed people must have for the world to go on at all? Every one could not be as helter skelter, hand to mouth as she was. But if they knew, could they tell one what they knew? Sitting on the floor with her arms round Mrs Ramsay’s knees, close as she could get, smiling to think that Mrs Ramsay would never know the reason of that pressure, she imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was, physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly, never made public. What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which one pressed through into those secret chambers? What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee.

Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart. How, then, she had asked herself, did one know one thing or another thing about people, sealed as they were? Only like a bee, drawn by some sweetness or sharpness in the air intangible to touch or taste, one haunted the dome-shaped hive, ranged the wastes of the air over the countries of the world alone, and then haunted the hives with their murmurs and their stirrings; the hives, which were people. Mrs Ramsay rose. Lily rose. Mrs Ramsay went. For days there hung about her, as after a dream some subtle change is felt in the person one has dreamt of, more vividly than anything she said, the sound of murmuring and, as she sat in the wicker arm-chair in the drawing-room window she wore, to Lily’s eyes, an august shape; the shape of a dome.

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So many questions and they seem to all go unanswered. That in itself is significant. Let me re-highlight this:

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But if they knew, could they tell one what they knew? Sitting on the floor with her arms round Mrs Ramsay’s knees, close as she could get, smiling to think that Mrs Ramsay would never know the reason of that pressure, she imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was, physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly, never made public.

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and

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Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee.

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Ponder those passages. She is trying to penetrate Mrs. Ramsey's being and truely know her. But look at the very next paragraph: "Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee." Three times she says "nothing," a negation and Woolf uses exclamation marks. And then the critical question:

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And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart. How, then, she had asked herself, did one know one thing or another thing about people, sealed as they were?

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And the answer is the following ending:

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Only like a bee, drawn by some sweetness or sharpness in the air intangible to touch or taste, one haunted the dome-shaped hive, ranged the wastes of the air over the countries of the world alone, and then haunted the hives with their murmurs and their stirrings; the hives, which were people.

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The best that she can do is this vague feeling of someone in a dream, hardly a solid understanding of another. And then Mrs. Ramsey rises and leaves.

I think to me Woolf is clear here that human interaction is a vague thing where each is isolated within themselves.