Book Review #2: A Room of One's Own, by V. Woolf

A Room of One's Own and five hundred pounds a year... Yes, that's all any woman (or man, for that matter) should ever be in need of. "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction"... Quite a simple premise, isn't it? Simple, and obvious, and unquestionable. But things weren't as straightforward back in the twenties – when this essay was produced – and in fact, this is only the beginning of what the witty, intelligent, highly sensitive Virginia Woolf has to tell us on the subject of women and fiction.

If I'm to be totally honest, I'm still in awe of this book, and I finished it well over a couple of weeks ago. It's so broad in scope, so utterly meaningful in every possible way, that it's very difficult to sum up without wanting to quote it in its entirety; I won't even attempt to do it, so, if you'll allow me, I'm going to disclose it chapter by chapter: fortunately this is not a novel, so I don't think there's any harm done in spoiling the "plot" for you.

Chapter 1.-

When I started reading, I must confess I felt a little dumbfounded by Woolf's wandering – erratic, even – thoughts. At the beginning of the essay, we find her strolling along a path at some university while preparing a lecture on women and fiction; she's detained then by a staff member telling her it is forbidden for a woman to go there. This event sets her (or her fictional impersonation, rather) thinking about the many things women are not supposed to do, and this is how her journey – and ours, along with hers – begins.

"Call me Mary Beton, Mary Seton, Mary Carmichael or by any name you please", she tells us. And I didn't quite grasp what she meant by that until I reached Chapter 2...

Chapter 2.-

...because the tone changes completely at the outset of this chapter; it was then that I realised the wonderful trick she had been playing on me, and finally understood who Mary Beton, Mary Seton and Mary Carmichael were. They are nothing but herself, nothing but you and me, nothing but your grandmothers and their grandmothers before them: they are nothing, in fact, but a handful of examples of that half of the population commonly referred to as WOMEN.

The wanderingly reflective soul of Chapter 1 gives way to a much more angered persona, and this time we accompany her in her research on the subject of women in history. She now wants to take things in her own hands as she engages in actively seeking truth. The conclusion she reaches is thought-provoking and poignant:

"Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size."

Right! That's it! No matter the focus a particular (male) author might have taken (to despise them, to praise them...), women have always been treated as objects, as the other, as the mirror.

Chapter 3.-

In Chapter 3, things change again. And I have to say, Woolf managed to surprise me once more by her insightful wit. Here she takes us back in time to introduce us to Judith, a hypothetical sister of Shakespeare's, who would never have been able to write his plays, simply because she would never have had access to a proper education which would have kindled her intellectual gift. She would most likely have ended getting pregnant out of wedlock and committing suicide.

Chapter 4.-

In Chapter 4, the narrator takes us on a literary journey through some relevant women writers across the ages, beginning with the 17th century: Lady Winchilsea, Margaret of Newcastle, Dorothy Osborne, and most notably, Aphra Behn.

Behn is described as a kind of pioneer, in the sense that, unlike the other three, she actually became a professional writer, thus paving the way to all other women writers to come: "Money dignifies what is frivolous if unpaid for." And while I can't say I completely agree with that statement, Woolf does make an interesting point about independence and art.

"All women together," – among them, George Eliot, Charlotte Brontë, Emily Brontë or Jane Austen – "ought to let flowers fall upon the tomb of Aphra Behn."

Chapter 5.-

What? You still don't know who Mary Charmichael is, or what her novel, Life's Adventure, is about? Read on, then. Mary Charmichael was (supposedly) a contemporary of Woolf's, who (allegedly) wrote a novel, full of broken sentences, in which two female scientists fall in love with each other. And why did I say "supposedly" and "allegedly"? Well, because Woolf, in her supreme wit, simply made her up: an excellent, twofold device to exemplify the modernist traits in fashion back in those times, and to raise many interesting questions at the same time. Do women write differently from men? Differently from women of other eras? Should it matter?

"She wrote as a woman, but as a woman who has forgotten that she is a woman, so that her pages were full of that curious sexual quality which comes only when sex is unconscious of itself."

And that's how she – Mary Charmicael, or any other woman – will achieve greatness, and not merely self-expression.


Chapter 6.-

All things must come to an end, and this book is no exception. In Chapter 6, Virginia Woolf the author returns and addresses her audience directly. The conclusion she draws? Nothing definite actually except, perhaps, that, in order to write fiction, "it is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple; one must be woman-manly or man-womanly."

Intriguing, isn't it? I think I'll simply end my review here and leave you to ponder over what she meant by that...

Some details I found interesting.-

• The choice of words in the title. Perhaps I'm making too much of it, but I think the preference of "one's" over "her" is very telling of what Woolf had in mind when writing it, since it certainly adds a distinctive feeling of universality to the whole thing.


• The main idea behind Chapter 3 served as inspiration for the song "Shakespeare's Sister", by English rock band The Smiths. And since they're a favourite of mine, I simply couldn't let this information pass unnoticed.


• The Charlotte Brontë - Jane Austen dichotomy as discussed in Chapter 4. "With less genius for writing than Charlotte Brontë," Woolf claims, "she [Austen] got infinitely more said." How many times must I have found myself thinking the very same...?


• The pure joy of getting a glimpse of Woolf's mind at work. Reading A Room of One's Own is almost like reading Virginia Woolf herself, her train of thought becoming – very effectively – one character more within the narrative.

Final thoughts.-

Before I read A Room of One's Own I had no idea that developing the stream of consciousness technique and writing an essay could go hand in hand, but Virginia Woolf manages to do so, and brilliantly besides. There's nothing not to love about this essay. It's insightful, witty, knowledgeable, modern, well-researched, beautiful and poetic... It's purely Virginia Woolf at her best, a real pleasure to both mind and soul.

If you haven't read the book yet, then, by all means, DO, because my words thoroughly fail in doing her justice.

Further reading.-

• A Room of One's Own at the University of Adelaide. Read it online in rich format.


• The Scope of Woolf's Feminism in A Room of One's Own. An interesting article which discusses why this essay wasn't considered feminist in Woolf's time, but is considered so in our days.


• A Room of One's Own - Virginia Woolf. A cleverly written review by fellow blogger Simon. I'll leave you with the final words he has to say aobut this book: "Woolf is [a writer] for those who admire ability, don't abhor thinking, and enjoy having a smile at the same time." Nothing to add to that...