Ok, first let me state that I have absolutely enjoyed the previous umpteen books by one of my, now, favorite authors, Virginia Woolf. That said, I am 84 pages into Three Guineas and about to loose my mind!!! Good god, it is BORING! A woman (Woolf) gets a letter requesting a donation for a women's college building fund... and then, after much thought and deliberations sits down to write a letter. And while I like the parts that are reminiscent of A Room of One's Own, what is this argument about war about? Please Virginia, about war, support with evidence! But not with a separate argument! And on and on she goes repeating herself the whole way. Three letters responding to the same request in the same way. Reading not 3, but 1 of the chapters would have been enough. And while I've read the same argument twice already, I'm still only half way through the book!
I'm lucky if I can make it through a whole paragraph, let alone a whole page, let alone ten before I fall asleep. I nod off and her words keep reading through my head as though I am still awake. Am I writing the book in my sleep, or repeating the same words of hers over and over again? I don't know. It's becoming a horrible blur, a dream that keeps repeating itself and I can't seem to wake from. But I do, and keep reading, and am once again bored to tears until my eyelids after a minute or two grow heavy and I am returned to the repetitious dream.
It is the kind of book that needs to be read standing, or walking, in order to stay alert. God, a whole week down the drain over this 150 page THING.
Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I am a feminist. Yes, I am anti-war. But what is it about this book that bores me to tears?
...And please, when we get to class on Monday night, please lets not have a long, drawn out discussion about her depression. It is so obvious. Let's not talk about it anymore. I am bored bored bored with the topic of depression, of bi-polar, of suicide. I can only hope that Nancy, or SOMEONE, has something enlightening to say about this book. Or better yet, share it with me now, so that I might get through the rest of it.
Maybe I am just spoiled, as a woman of my time, to have had opportunities that Virginia Woolf's time did not have. But even so, I am sickened by the way women were once treated. I am sickened by the thoughts and actions seen and heard even today. I am not oblivious to the fight. I have had to fight it many times myself. Therefore I have come to the conclusion that I am not as spoiled as some-- only because I have challenged the "system" more times than I can count. I am not a "little woman." As a matter of fact, I am better with power tools than most men my age. Yes, I give V.W. credit for her broad, futuristic vision. So what is it then that drives me crazy when I read this?! I am bored. And she is depressing.
Let it be over!
Ok... but one inspiring moment while reading was the thought: what if I won a million dollars? How then would my life be different?
I considered my options. And decided that I would finish school, but then become a full-time artist (at least for awhile). I would write and paint until my heart's content. Yes, I would be a PROFESSIONAL artist--not just one who does art on the side. I imagined my studio with 15 foot ceilings, white walls, large canvases, a space to write in the corner. A spacious place in which to express myself completely. So I continued reading as my thoughts wandered on this topic and for a moment I was enjoying myself. But then back to reality. Back to Three Guineas. Back to my life as it really stands.
And this is where my thoughts stop. Because I am too bored to think clearly. And too busy to forget what needs to be done.
I think what bothers me most about this book is that V.W.'s argument is incomplete. And maybe by Monday night I'll be able to get my head around this thought in order to explain myself better. At the moment, my brain has been stripped dry.
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