Each sentence in To the Lighthouse is so alive that, like toys at night in a haunted room, they wake up, change into strange things and go still again. The illusion is part due to its layering and weave - dense as poetry, light as air, not a word accidental. And part due to the structure of the novel, its great invisible solidity fixed under imagery and detail moving over it like transparent veils. Its parts are elemental: water, air, sunlight, seaweed - frilled strips pinned to the attic walls, or later trailing around Cam's fingers in the water when the sails fill. Part of the pleasure in reading To the Lighthouse is the revelation of its interlocking structure, how the macro-structure of the novel is reflected everywhere on the micro-scale. An example: the three sections of the novel and their pace are seen again in the trajectory of the sailboat across the bay in the final section, where the wind takes it, then dies down, then moves again.
The passages describing Lily Briscoe at work on her paintings seem to reflect a kind of rapture in which Woolf must have written this novel: "...with all her faculties in a trance, frozen over superficially but moving underneath with extreme speed." "It was in that moment's flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to tears..." And "She was not inventing; she was only trying to smooth out something she had been given years ago folded up; something she had seen." But some of them describe the novel itself, which has all the feel of a ghost story: "It was to be a thing you could ruffle with your breath; and a thing you could not dislodge with a team of horses."
In fact, much of the novel - like the light and dark of the lighthouse beacon, or waves crashing in and back out - works in a balanced opposition: Crowdedness and the lack of privacy juxtaposed against the condition of utter aloneness. The bond between Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay counterbalanced with their awareness of what they've cost one another. The collusion of the children, their secretiveness and wildness, but then their docility and vulnerability. Trapped thoughts that can't be told, but are then understood without saying, as the same reflection - like quantum tunneling - might wind from one point of view to the mind of a different character.
In part II the sound of bombs falling in the distance is described as "the measured blows of hammers on felt." There are lines like that, which come in so lightly, but their impact on landing is powerful: the novel itself explodes in your heart like a silent H-bomb. One example is the last line in paragraph #3 in chapter XII of part 3, which I won't give away. (And don't sneak ahead: it won't mean anything unless you've arrived there in the right order!) And this one about James, belonging as he does to the unspecified "great clan" mentioned on page one: "He was so pleased that he was not going to let anyone share a grain of his pleasure. His father had praised him. They must think that he was perfectly indifferent. But you've got it now, Cam thought." Many of the details in To the Lighthouse you might not even notice on first read, but when you go back they surprise you. This is part of the secret of the novel's geode-like quality, where you never guess what's contained inside it until you've seen the whole thing and it opens for you, then you see it. Another Amazon reviewer was right in saying this: you have to read it twice.
Although a short novel, To the Lighthouse contains so many themes: vision and seeing, nature at odds with human life, time and its nonlinear movement, community and individual isolation. It's about what Mr. Ramsay knew: how "...our brightest hopes are extinguished, our frail barks founder in darkness" and what James knew: "That loneliness which for both of them was the truth about things." It's about things you want, and do or do not get: whether you want to go to the lighthouse, or whether you don't want to go; whether anyone will get to Sorley, the lighthouse keeper, with tobacco and newspapers, or whether he'll remain isolated out there; whether Lily will capture what she sees on her canvas; whether Paul Rayley will find Minta's lost brooch. What Mrs. Ramsay wished for was the impossible. It was guessed by Lily Briscoe: "Life stand still here."
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It's Virginia Woolf's masterpiece, duh!
Reviewed in the United States on December 5, 2019
What can I say about what is generally considered Woolf's finest work that hasn't been covered at length by feminists and other literary critics? It is one of the great books of the 20th century. The use of run-on sentences is a bit daunting at first, but by the end of the first or second chapter I had gotten used to the style and found the content easy to follow. Those who like the work of Gertrude Stein or James Joyce probably already know TO THE LIGHTHOUSE, but if they don't, they should pick it up.
Reviewed in the United States on December 5, 2019
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