My experience with Virginia Woolf is limited and sporadic. I've read Mrs. Dalloway twice, To the Lighthouse, Night and Day, A Voyage Out as well as a number of essays by her. She is a writer who intrigues me, intimidates me and scares me just a little bit, too. For me she is a formidable writer and woman, and because I have read about her at various times (though as yet never a biography or any of her diaries), it is hard to separate the two "personas". I'm floored by her literary talent, but think she is one author I wouldn't want to sit next to at a dinner party, if you know what I mean.
Despite having read more than just a smattering of her over time I am not really sure I can tell you all that much about the books I've read. I recall bits and pieces, odd scenes and certain characters in Night and Day and A Voyage Out and only impressions of Mrs. Dalloway, most likely because the former two are presented in a more straightforward manner than her other work and the latter I read twice. And now I have Jacob's Room to add to the list.
I suspect most readers of Woolf's work are far more savvy than I about just what's going on beneath the surface. It's always with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that I open one of her works. There was a time several years back when I contemplated (and even began) a project of reading her work in the order she wrote her books. I think I could easily give over a whole year of reading books by and about her and not run out of things to keep me busy. And maybe someday I'll attempt it. But for now bear with me as I try and make sense of what I've just read. I always feel a little as though I am on shaky ground with her and I like to look for a little literary guidance, so I should really look for a little criticism now that I've finished the book.
Woolf wrote Jacob's Room in 1922. It was at this time that she was was looking for a way to form a new type of novel. It was the ambition of modernists to "put nothing that need not be there" (and after the Victorians who put everything in a story this must have been radical) and that a character's life should be shown "not only in its external aspect, but as it is experienced." I suppose that's where her famous stream of consciousness comes in? Fiction could be made up of "impressions received by the mind 'exposed to the ordinary course of life'." And this novel is indeed very impressionistic. It doesn't really have a plot but is told in episodes or fragments.
The story revolves around Jacob Flanders beginning with his childhood and following through to his middle-20s until his death in WWI (how fitting that his last name is Flanders, eh?). The reader never gets inside the head of Jacob but his life and personality are all shown through his interactions with others--mainly women. Despite the story being about him, there was something very ephemeral about Jacob. Like a chair that has the imprint of a body and is still warm to the touch, but the person has left the room. That's always how I felt about Jacob. It was a little bit jarring really, but I can see how extraordinary this must have been at the time Woolf published the novel.
So, what actually happens in the story? That's a good question. Not a lot really. Certain sections felt more substantial (or at least made more of an impression or felt like they were forming some sort of narrative) to me than others. Jacob's childhood, for example. One of three sons, Jacob is a handful for his mother who is a "widow in her prime". He goes on to Cambridge where it seems he studies the Greek Classics (is it always Virgil that he has with him?--he's not fond of novels). He has a circle of friends, a few very close, and a number of lovers. He later goes to Greece, which is my favorite part of the book, particularly for the descriptions. There he falls in love with a married woman. But in the end he goes to war and the story ends quite tragically and on a melancholic note. That's a fast and furious summation of events without really telling you much.
Even thinking about the book and trying to put down on paper it all feels very fragmented to me. Maybe it's best to share a few things I noted in the text. A compilation of sorts about Jacob.
As a child:
"The only one of her sons who never obeyed her, she said"
In 1906 at Cambridge:
"Taking note of socks (loose), of tie (shabby), she once more reached for his face. She dwelt upon his mouth. The lips were shut. The eyes bent down, since he was reading. All was firm, yet youthful, indifferent, unconscious--as for knocking one down!"
" . . . then he fixed his eyes--which were blue--on the landscape."
"The silent young man."
"Yes, Jacob Flanders.""He is extraordinarily awkward," she thought, noticing how he fingered his socks. "Yet so distinguished-looking."
"I like Jacob Flanders," wrote Clara Durrant in her diary. "He is so otherworldly. He gives himself no airs, and one say what one likes to him, though he's frightening because . . . "
"Jacob could not dance. He stood against the wall smoking a pipe."
"Whether we know what was in his mind is another question."
And I never did feel as though I knew what was in his mind, which was a little disconcerting.
Now that I've "read" Jacob's Room, I feel like I am ready to Read Jacob's Room. Maybe a little criticism for guidance--an essay or two or a good review? Then a follow up with a proper reading of the book, and perhaps I can tell you more about it all properly. For now, though, it's always a good experience to simply be exposed to Virginia Woolf.
Stefanie at So Many Books and I read this in tandem so I am looking forward to hearing her impressions of the story and hopefully shedding more light on it all.