counter create hit Monday or Tuesday - Download Free eBook
Ads Banner
Hot Best Seller

Monday or Tuesday

Availability: Ready to download

One of the most distinguished critics and innovative authors of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf published two novels before this collection appeared in 1921. However, it was these early stories that first earned her a reputation as a writer with "the liveliest imagination and most delicate style of her time." Influenced by Joyce, Proust, and the theories of William J One of the most distinguished critics and innovative authors of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf published two novels before this collection appeared in 1921. However, it was these early stories that first earned her a reputation as a writer with "the liveliest imagination and most delicate style of her time." Influenced by Joyce, Proust, and the theories of William James, Bergson, and Freud, she strove to write a new fiction that emphasized the continuous flow of consciousness, time's passage as both a series of sequential moments and a longer flow of years and centuries, and the essential indefinability of character. Readers can discover these and other aspects of her influential style in the eight stories collected here, among them a delightful, feminist put-down of the male intellect in "A Society" and a brilliant and sensitive portrayal of nature in "Kew Gardens." Also included are "An Unwritten Novel," "The String Quartet," "A Haunted House," "Blue & Green," "The Mark on the Wall," and the title story. In recent years, Woolf's fiction, feminism, and high-minded sensibilities have earned her an ever-growing audience of readers. This splendid collection offers those readers not only the inestimable pleasures of the stories themselves, but an excellent entrée into the larger body of Woolf's work.


Compare
Ads Banner

One of the most distinguished critics and innovative authors of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf published two novels before this collection appeared in 1921. However, it was these early stories that first earned her a reputation as a writer with "the liveliest imagination and most delicate style of her time." Influenced by Joyce, Proust, and the theories of William J One of the most distinguished critics and innovative authors of the twentieth century, Virginia Woolf published two novels before this collection appeared in 1921. However, it was these early stories that first earned her a reputation as a writer with "the liveliest imagination and most delicate style of her time." Influenced by Joyce, Proust, and the theories of William James, Bergson, and Freud, she strove to write a new fiction that emphasized the continuous flow of consciousness, time's passage as both a series of sequential moments and a longer flow of years and centuries, and the essential indefinability of character. Readers can discover these and other aspects of her influential style in the eight stories collected here, among them a delightful, feminist put-down of the male intellect in "A Society" and a brilliant and sensitive portrayal of nature in "Kew Gardens." Also included are "An Unwritten Novel," "The String Quartet," "A Haunted House," "Blue & Green," "The Mark on the Wall," and the title story. In recent years, Woolf's fiction, feminism, and high-minded sensibilities have earned her an ever-growing audience of readers. This splendid collection offers those readers not only the inestimable pleasures of the stories themselves, but an excellent entrée into the larger body of Woolf's work.

30 review for Monday or Tuesday

  1. 5 out of 5

    Jaidee

    4.5 "meandering, layered, impactful" stars !! 2016 Honorable Mention Read Tomorrow we leave for Belize. I just came back from a 45 minute walk in my dark and cool and breezy neighbourhood while listening to Portuguese Fado. I sit here and decide not to think about too much what I will write for this review as I have written a sentence or two as I read all eight stories in this volume today while I lived quietly, thoughtfully and emotionally today. I did not answer texts or emails today. I preten 4.5 "meandering, layered, impactful" stars !! 2016 Honorable Mention Read Tomorrow we leave for Belize. I just came back from a 45 minute walk in my dark and cool and breezy neighbourhood while listening to Portuguese Fado. I sit here and decide not to think about too much what I will write for this review as I have written a sentence or two as I read all eight stories in this volume today while I lived quietly, thoughtfully and emotionally today. I did not answer texts or emails today. I pretended we were at our country home. I barely spoke to my partner today but kissed him and smiled at him while he worked. I read Virginia Woolf. I took a warm bath. I made a delicious pasta salad and baked ham. I packed our suitcases. I read Virginia Woolf. I brushed the cat and already missed him. I listened to Madama Butterfly in its entirety while I reorganized two of our closets. I read Virginia Woolf. I missed my father and mother today and so I had a little cry. I thought about an old friend and wondered if she was happy. I read Virginia Woolf. I double checked and then triple checked our suitcases. I contemplated early retirement in New Mexico. I nuzzled my partner's neck. I read Virginia Wolf. I thought about our upcoming nine days in Belize and was happy. I hear my partner's soft snores and I am happy. I read Virginia Woolf for the first time and was mostly astounded. I am writing this review and I am at peace. I will list the stories, my rating and a sentence I jotted down after reading each story. 1. A Haunted House ( 4.5 stars ) A pair of romantic spirits add love to a home through delicacy and mischief. 2. A Society ( 4.5 stars ) A group of young women meet regularly to discuss their observations of men and their own feminine natures. 3. Monday or Tuesday ( 3.5 stars ) A heron flies and observes. 4. An Unwritten Novel ( 4.5 stars ) The flights of fancy of a young woman on a train. 5. The String Quartet ( 5 stars ) Snippets of conversation and the mind's meanderings during a Mozart String Quartet performance. 6. Blue & Green ( 5 stars ) What the fuck? 3 pages of gorgeousness. 7. Kew Gardens ( 5 stars ) **my favorite in collection The exquisite contrast of the life of insects and humans in a beautiful public garden. 8. The Mark on the Wall ( 3 stars ) A blemish on the wall leads to all sorts of thinking. I am honored to have finally read Virginia Woolf. This book made my day today extraordinarily special and yet I can have these days much more often. I need to stop and listen to my thoughts, my feelings and soak up my surroundings and realize the richness of the everyday. I will go and pray and have a sleep. I will read more Virginia Woolf very soon.

  2. 4 out of 5

    Vipassana

    Virginia is a quiet woman with an excitable mind. Chatty in the presence of enjoyable company yet prone to sink into silence and solitude. She puts one in touch with the myriad blubbering of the mind, the sporadic genius and how the both, while at odds, lend themselves to each other. With this collection of short stories, one is offered a peak into her process. The range of variety among her stories is something to note, yet most of the stories are characteristically in the mind than a sequence Virginia is a quiet woman with an excitable mind. Chatty in the presence of enjoyable company yet prone to sink into silence and solitude. She puts one in touch with the myriad blubbering of the mind, the sporadic genius and how the both, while at odds, lend themselves to each other. With this collection of short stories, one is offered a peak into her process. The range of variety among her stories is something to note, yet most of the stories are characteristically in the mind than a sequence of events. A Society is a satire on the incompetence of society, that still chose to shut out women. It vaguely reminded me of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, with the girls all grown up and aware of their disenfranchisement from nearly every aspect of living that didn't involve cooking or a baby. These were privileged women who felt illiterate of so many thing and they sought to to ask questions by impersonating men in positions of influence. This was story was all the more amusing given the allusion to the Dreadnought Hoax. Blue & Green is about colours, about seeing the colours among other details. It's barely a page and could have been a poem, as could have Monday or Tuesday and A Haunted House. I might be slightly biased because these are my favourite colours and I've bored quite a few of my acquaintances rhapsodising about the special place in the palette that blue and to a lesser extent green(my argument is that green is a kind of blue) deserve. Kew Gardens reminds me of To the Lighthouse and perhaps it was the polished version of an experiment she orchestrated in Kew Gardens. Couples pass by a flower bed, where a snail absorbs its surroundings and attempts a manoeuvre around a leaf blocking its way. The couples are all of varying genders and ages, so are the power balances between them. The mindset of each couple of couple is more disjointed than in To The Lighthouse given that they aren't aware of the bed or the snail, but ever so often their contrast with the snail is readily apparent. A Mark on the Wall was without doubt my favourite. It is Woolf meditating. I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts. She proceeds to catch the first thought and carefully following the thread from there. Every once in a while she realises that she was initially trying to discern a mark in the wall. It's an enjoyable flow of thoughts that reminded me of a form of meditation, Anapanasati, where one focuses on one's breathing. An untrained mind tends to wander and on awareness of the wandering it is brought back to the breathing. Unlike the jumble of thoughts that can harass a mind for attention, these thoughts have a calmer demeanour.* The collection as a whole has some humour to it. She takes a dig at The Times by noting that English Literature was in the top floor of the library while The Time at the very bottom. In An Unwritten Novel, she writes about how one can find anything in The Times if they looked for it. Later on she declares that it can't protect from a sorrow such as hers and in the last story about how it had nothing to offer. (view spoiler)[The presence of a snail in both Kew Gardens and A Mark on the wall made me burst out laughing. A Mark on the Wall is the last story in this collection, immediately after Kew Gardens and she realises that the mark was a snail on the wall. It made me laugh considering that Kew Gardens was roughly told from the perspective of a snail (hide spoiler)] The only thing that I'd complain about is how she ends some stories. An obvious surprise in the last paragraph. Obvious not in the sense that one knows it's coming but typical methods of surprise, such as awareness of the situation being a dream or a small slip up that appears to negate the entire story. It is probable that my whining of the endings may be a matter of my high expectations from Woolf than any misgivings with the stories. Recommended for Woolf fans. You'll see the Virginia you love. -- *Solely based on personal experience, I suppose in each individual perceives herself/himself differently. -- June 9, 2015

  3. 5 out of 5

    Bill

    I got more than I bargained for when I bought this for $2 at Second Hand Prose, the bookstore of the Friends of the Coronado Public Library, during a pre-coronavirus pandemic visit to California this winter. I expected a pretty quick read of the eight short stories collected here, some very short, but found they required a little time and effort to appreciate. Fortunately, I have plenty of time these days and the effort was rewarded. Many of the stories are stream of consciousness and experimenta I got more than I bargained for when I bought this for $2 at Second Hand Prose, the bookstore of the Friends of the Coronado Public Library, during a pre-coronavirus pandemic visit to California this winter. I expected a pretty quick read of the eight short stories collected here, some very short, but found they required a little time and effort to appreciate. Fortunately, I have plenty of time these days and the effort was rewarded. Many of the stories are stream of consciousness and experimental pieces, with the train trip described in "An Unwritten Novel" and the musings on "The Mark on the Wall" being my favorites of these. The most traditional narrative is "A Society", and, in hopes of piquing the interest of a reader or two, I offer this excerpt of its beginning: After a time, so far as I can remember, we drew round the fire and began as usual to praise men - how strong, how noble, how brilliant, how courageous, how beautiful they were - how we envied those who by hook or by crook managed to get attached to one for life - when Poll, who had said nothing, burst into tears. Poll, I must tell you, has always been queer. For one thing her father was a strange man. He left her a fortune in his will, but on condition that she read all the books in the London Library.

  4. 5 out of 5

    Mark

    This is another of the lovely Hesperus Press books which introduce or re-introduce little known works by otherwise well known writers from across history. Each is less than 100 pages in length and indeed some are much less. This volume only consists of 61 pages of actual Virginia Woolfness and it is a swiftly pleasurable read though, as with all Woolf, it repays much slower and patient re-visiting. There are eight pieces collected together. Some, "A Society" or "An unwritten novel" read as obviou This is another of the lovely Hesperus Press books which introduce or re-introduce little known works by otherwise well known writers from across history. Each is less than 100 pages in length and indeed some are much less. This volume only consists of 61 pages of actual Virginia Woolfness and it is a swiftly pleasurable read though, as with all Woolf, it repays much slower and patient re-visiting. There are eight pieces collected together. Some, "A Society" or "An unwritten novel" read as obvious stories whilst others "Monday or Tuesday" and "Blue and Green" read as simple descriptive meanderings, though simple might be a rather unambitious word for the flow of impressions given. This is Woolf at her liquid best and again, as always with her, they demand to be read out loud. My mother used to say sometimes, when telling me off if i had been holding forth a little too arrogantly about something, that i quite evidently liked the sound of my own voice. This used to make me suitably contrite or at least embarrassed. Now i wonder whether she is looking down on me every time i pick down a Virginia Woolf and jabbing in the ribs the poor angelic soul she shares her cloud with to say ' Yep, I think that is the only reason the boy likes Woolf, so he can hear himself read'. Well mum, there is a truth in amidst the accusation. I love the way Woolf uses words, the way 'thoughts bleed into one another like colours' as Scarlett Thomas says in her introduction, and this demands to be read out loud and as i can not always have Juliet Stevenson or the late lamented Anna Massie on hand, needs must !! My favourite piece is "Kew Gardens" a simple commentary on couples walking and talking and reflecting back and forth to each other, observed by a snail contemplating its own journey across a flower bed. Nothing happens but beautiful phrases. "In the drone of the aeroplane the voice of the summer sky murmured its fierce soul" There is the mention on a number of occasions of the flowers with their 'heart-shaped or tongue-shaped leaves'. This suggests and it is just that, a hint and nothing more, a gesture in the direction of the parallel or perhaps opposing standard of voice and feeling, declamation and empathy. The couples featured, play and interplay and we are left none the wiser of any of their futures but there is a unnoticed sting in the tail of the story. Our 'almost-narrator', if you will, has been the observant snail but he is not observant enough. Towards the end of the essay this line features "How hot it was! So hot that even the thrush chose to hop, like a mechanical bird, in the shadow of the flowers, with long pauses between one movement and the next" Again Woolf says no more but every schoolboy and girl knows what thrushes do with snails. It is a clever shadow cast over the gentle scene in the same way as the flowers, previously spoken of in bright, light coloured words suddenly become the bearers of shadow. Simple, yep wonderfully suggestive. The last piece is the equally wonderful "The Mark on the wall". I remember reading this years ago in a few minutes and wondering what it was all about. The more i read it now with its wonderful meanderings but in the light of her final end, its apathy or even dismal,empty sound, I am so thrilled that I recognize the value of re-reading as I grow older or hopefully maybe just grow.

  5. 4 out of 5

    Richard Derus

    Rating: 3.5* of five The Publisher Says: A collection of eight deliberately fragmentary and experimental sketches, Monday or Tuesday remains unique in being the only volume of short stories that Virginia Woolf published herself. A woman gazes at a mark on a wall and ponders the vagaries of thought and opinion; a succession of couples are caught up with nostalgia for their past as they stroll among the vibrant flowers of Kew Gardens; a heron soars high above cities and towns, lakes and mountains, Rating: 3.5* of five The Publisher Says: A collection of eight deliberately fragmentary and experimental sketches, Monday or Tuesday remains unique in being the only volume of short stories that Virginia Woolf published herself. A woman gazes at a mark on a wall and ponders the vagaries of thought and opinion; a succession of couples are caught up with nostalgia for their past as they stroll among the vibrant flowers of Kew Gardens; a heron soars high above cities and towns, lakes and mountains, while below, life continues in all its mundanity; and blue and green are given their expression in words. Monday or Tuesday is a brilliant and striking series of impressions, written in Woolf’s characteristic lyrical and startling prose. My Review: This short book, only 54pp in my Dover Thrift Edition, is the best and the worst of La Woolf. Some pieces are incomprehensible to the merely mortal, others are simply brilliant evocations of mood, of consciousness...it's in reading this book that I came to the realization that what many people dislike about Woolf's writing can be traced back to the sense one has of Woolf staring, staring, staring, with eyes darting hither and thither, while speaking aloud what most of us simply allow to slide from one eye to the other. I don't think stories were Miss Virginnie's métier, the way they were Miss Eudora's for example, but there is something in each experience of a story in these pages to make one glad to have met with it. "A Haunted House," a few brief words, a simple story of a ghostly apparition and her husband re-experiencing their home after death; not much to it, not much of it, but so haunting (!) 3.5 stars "A Society," of women you see, a society that undertakes A Study, frankly uninteresting to me as a 21st century reader, and pretty much a clunker 2.5 stars "Monday or Tuesday" explores simultaneity with simple imagery and makes flight seem magically mundane. 3.5 stars "An Unwritten Novel," now, this is the Woolf of Orlando and how I adore her, what a gorgeous thing it is to be there in her head as her eyes move ceaselessly and her brain which can not shut itself off like mere mortals' can, and see the details that tell more than the words alone can describe, creating a huge and varied landscape from a twitch. 4.5 stars "The String Quartet," again, brings the Orlando touch to a musical evening, but came too soon after "An Unwritten Novel" for me to drool on it so hard 4 stars "Blue & Green," on the other hand, makes not one whit of sense and is a mere catalog of responses to the colors. 2.5 stars "Kew Gardens," color and light and the air, with people moving through them and leaving vapor trails of self that commingle not at all, but swirl intricately around and past each other. 3.5 stars "The Mark on the Wall," the ultimate Woolfy story, staring staring staring while brainwaves toss up Landseer paintings, housemaids, Heaven and Hell... 4 stars This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

  6. 5 out of 5

    Jim

    This thin book of short stories started slow for me, but then picked up speed as I began to see the author's multifaceted world. Virginia Woolf was a writer who, from the early years of the twentieth century, saw many of the changes that were to come. (More's the pity that she cut short her own life.) Monday or Tuesday is an experimental easel for her to begin to paint the world in a different way. Take, for instance, these observations from the last story in the book, "The Mark on the Wall":Woo This thin book of short stories started slow for me, but then picked up speed as I began to see the author's multifaceted world. Virginia Woolf was a writer who, from the early years of the twentieth century, saw many of the changes that were to come. (More's the pity that she cut short her own life.) Monday or Tuesday is an experimental easel for her to begin to paint the world in a different way. Take, for instance, these observations from the last story in the book, "The Mark on the Wall":Wood is a pleasant thing to think about. It comes from a tree; and trees grow, and we don't know how they grow. For years and years they grow, without paying any attention to us, in meadows, in forests, and by the side of rivers—all things one likes to think about. The cows swish their tails beneath them on hot afternoons; they paint rivers so green that when a moorhen dives one expects to see its feathers all green when it comes up again. I like to think of the fish balanced against the stream like flags blown out; and of water-beetles slowly raising domes of mud upon the bed of the river. I like to think of the tree itself: first the close dry sensation of being wood; then the grinding of the storm; then the slow, delicious ooze of sap. I like to think of it, too, on winter's nights standing in the empty field with all leaves close-furled, nothing tender exposed to the iron bullets of the moon, a naked mast upon an earth that goes tumbling, tumbling, all night long. The song of birds must sound very loud and strange in June; and how cold the feet of insects must feel upon it, as they make laborious progresses up the creases of the bark, or sun themselves upon the thin green awning of the leaves, and look straight in front of them with diamond-cut red eyes.... One by one the fibres snap beneath the immense cold pressure of the earth, then the last storm comes and, falling, the highest branches drive deep into the ground again. Even so, life isn't done with; there are a million patient, watchful lives still for a tree, all over the world, in bedrooms, in ships, on the pavement, lining rooms, where men and women sit after tea, smoking cigarettes. It is full of peaceful thoughts, happy thoughts, this tree. I should like to take each one separately—but something is getting in the way.... Where was I?I kept running into these Buddhist bursts of contemplation in such stories as "An Unwritten Novel" or the mesmeric "Kew Gardens." This little collection is a good place to start reading Virginia Woolf.

  7. 5 out of 5

    BrokenTune

    I am strangely fascinated by Virginia Woolf, and that even though I have not read many of her works as yet. Like any collection of short stories some of the stories are more appealing than others, but all of them show Woolf's creative powers creating the minutest of observations and turning it into a journey of ideas. What I liked best about this collection of shorts - apart from the witty satire in A Society - was the rhythm of the language. It's almost like you could read the stories - at leas I am strangely fascinated by Virginia Woolf, and that even though I have not read many of her works as yet. Like any collection of short stories some of the stories are more appealing than others, but all of them show Woolf's creative powers creating the minutest of observations and turning it into a journey of ideas. What I liked best about this collection of shorts - apart from the witty satire in A Society - was the rhythm of the language. It's almost like you could read the stories - at least parts of most of the stories - aloud to the beat of a metronome.

  8. 4 out of 5

    Jim

    Having never read anything by Woolf before I’m not sure this was perhaps the best place to start. Most of the stories veer towards the stream-of-consciousness/prose-poetry end of the spectrum apart from the second story, ‘A Society’ which is pure satire and made me think of Bulgakov of all people; all the others reminded me of Elizabeth Smart who, apparently, was a fan of Woolf’s writing. The stories are not without their moments but as complete works none really excited me. Probably the one I r Having never read anything by Woolf before I’m not sure this was perhaps the best place to start. Most of the stories veer towards the stream-of-consciousness/prose-poetry end of the spectrum apart from the second story, ‘A Society’ which is pure satire and made me think of Bulgakov of all people; all the others reminded me of Elizabeth Smart who, apparently, was a fan of Woolf’s writing. The stories are not without their moments but as complete works none really excited me. Probably the one I related to the most was the last one, ‘The Mark on the Wall’, where the narrator contemplates a mark on the wall—is it a hole, the head of a nail, a stain?—and, of course, it’s none of these, but I can relate to her not wanting to get up and find out for sure preferring to relish wandering down the various imaginative trails her mind conjures up. It’s not much of a story though and so anyone looking for pieces with beginnings, middles and endings might find themselves a little disappointed by these pieces. Another Goodreads reviewer says, “This is Woolf at her liquid best and again, as always with her, they demand to be read out loud,” and it’s the word ‘liquid’ that really jumps out at me because these pieces are hard to get hold of and run easily through your fingers. But if you’re interested in the writing process then there’s something here. In ‘An Unwritten Novel’ the narrator finds herself in a train compartment with another women and creates an elaborate narrative around her only to have it shattered once the woman reaches her destination. That I get. Made me think of Amos Oz’s novel Rhyming Life and Death. I decided to see if I could find an audio recording to have a listen to. The entire book’s available here but I chose to just listen to a recording of ‘Monday or Tuesday’ here. It reminded me of why I hate poetry readings and that’s exactly what it sounded like. It was pleasant—don’t get me wrong—but I found it even harder to follow than when I read it myself at my own pace. Apparently the piece has been described as “prose collage” and that’s as good a description as any. As I’m writing this now a couple of hours after finishing the book and a few minutes after listening to the audio recording I find I couldn’t tell you what ‘Monday or Tuesday’ is about. This is not good. So I went to Robert Stanley Martin’s article on the story here but as far as I’m concerned any story that needs to get explained is bad writing. Or maybe I’m just a bad reader. I’d glanced at her writing before and noted her heavy use of punctuation. I know the modern trend is to shy away from excessive punctuation but I find it helpful and I didn’t struggle with her sentence structures at all. This was an interesting selection and I’m glad I’ve read it. I did hope I’d enjoy her more but maybe I’ll do better with one of the novels which I do intend to get round to. I’m always wary of anything that gets labelled as ‘experimental’. The thing about experiments is that they mostly fail in themselves but we learn from them and that’s how progress is made. Would Woolf have written To the Lighthouse and Mrs. Dalloway had she not first written ‘An Unfinished Novel’? Probably not. So three stars may seem a little mean but the bottom line is that I didn’t love these stories. They all felt like sketches, well-executed sketches as may be.

  9. 4 out of 5

    Hannah

    I've been meaning to try out Virginia Woolf for awhile and and clicked on this file at Project Gutenburg tonight. Honestly, I didn't like it, but she definitely had an interesting way with words. For example, my favorite sketch of the eight, "Blue & Green," begins thus: "The pointed fingers of glass hang downwards. The light slides down the glass, and drops a pool of green." In many ways, more poetry than prose, without being truly either one. Yet the moments of brilliant wordplay slip in and out I've been meaning to try out Virginia Woolf for awhile and and clicked on this file at Project Gutenburg tonight. Honestly, I didn't like it, but she definitely had an interesting way with words. For example, my favorite sketch of the eight, "Blue & Green," begins thus: "The pointed fingers of glass hang downwards. The light slides down the glass, and drops a pool of green." In many ways, more poetry than prose, without being truly either one. Yet the moments of brilliant wordplay slip in and out, impossible to grasp onto and hold, because the next moment it blurs into an action, or into the next scene...almost in the same way as watching analog tv with static. Brief glimpses of something beautiful, but then a blur and a fuzz, leaving you wondering what was really supposed to have come next. Most of all, what stood out to me in strong relief was the hopelessness of a soul wandering aimlessly through life. In one, a woman speaks of her friend's young daughter: "It's no good—not a bit of good," I said. "Once she knows how to read there's only one thing you can teach her to believe in—and that is herself." The title essay, "Monday or Tuesday," is a heartbreaking little blurb about the search for truth and coming back defeated: "Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever desiring—(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)—for ever desiring—(the clock asservates in twelves distinct strokes that it is midday; light sheds gold scales; children swarm)—for ever desiring truth." And yet the seeker is doomed to failure.

  10. 5 out of 5

    Po Po

    Tiny book of short stories. Some are great and some didn't engage me at all. But, the underlying theme is feminism. Women: stop being a meek submissive. Women: stop 'sacrificing' your youth on childcare. One of the biggest obstacles to women's advancement is pregnancy and (typically-- especially when this was written) being the primary (or sole) caregivers of children. Women: stop thinking your contributions to society are worthless. Women: stop idolizing men This is exactly the type of book I neede Tiny book of short stories. Some are great and some didn't engage me at all. But, the underlying theme is feminism. Women: stop being a meek submissive. Women: stop 'sacrificing' your youth on childcare. One of the biggest obstacles to women's advancement is pregnancy and (typically-- especially when this was written) being the primary (or sole) caregivers of children. Women: stop thinking your contributions to society are worthless. Women: stop idolizing men This is exactly the type of book I needed in this moment of my life. My favorite story is "A Society." An empowering read-in-one-sitting book. * * * + "Chastity is nothing but ignorance-- a most discreditable state of mind. We should submit only the unchaste to our society." + "Haven't we bred them (boys) and fed and kept them in comfort since the beginning of time so that they may be clever even if they're nothing else?" + "Let us devise a method by which men may bear children! It is our only chance." + "Everybody follows somebody, such is the philosophy of Whitaker; and the great thing is to know who follows whom."

  11. 4 out of 5

    Pilar

    The more I read of Virginia Woolf the more I love her. She is one of the best authors that ever lived, and her mind is so unique and precious. I wish more people nowadays could recognize her genius, and enjoy and learn from her work.

  12. 5 out of 5

    Cynthia

    This is Woolf's third book after The Voyage Out and Night and Day. Monday or Tuesday is a group of short stories and though I'm concurrently reading Night and have already read her fourth book, Jacob's Room, this is where she begins to work in her uniques style of letting one train of thought blend into or deflect into somewhere you wouldn't logically expect or maybe you would but we've been taught not to let that happen, were admonished to stay with the path we began on. I'm sure this isn't ori This is Woolf's third book after The Voyage Out and Night and Day. Monday or Tuesday is a group of short stories and though I'm concurrently reading Night and have already read her fourth book, Jacob's Room, this is where she begins to work in her uniques style of letting one train of thought blend into or deflect into somewhere you wouldn't logically expect or maybe you would but we've been taught not to let that happen, were admonished to stay with the path we began on. I'm sure this isn't original from me but her prose feels very like stretched out poetry. It seems to me she refers directly or indirectly to the social strata of her characters. As an American I can't boast a real knowledge of this but it seems like most of her settings are middle or upper middle class people but they're mostly intellectuals or work at self education. They definitely esteem knowledge with an emphasis on the arts. I've been dipping in and out of Hermione Lee's biography of Woolf and it seems this is the same class that Woolf hails from. Last I'm seeing a pattern of Woolf's characters being confrontational or at least at times willfully rude though when confronted in turn they often back down from this stance. It's like a short cut in getting to know one another, rather than being conventionally polite poke your opponent and get them to say what they truly think or if you're feeling out of your depth and thus uncomfortable growl at your opponent to bring yourself back to comfort. Last, Woolf's humor is on display in her story in this collection she labels A Society where a group of women go out into a men's room to explore how they run their affairs in order to determine how women could better run things. It's insightful, it's tragic event but it's also funny in the way the women express their critical analyses of men and their bluster. Woolf laughs as much at women as she does men.

  13. 5 out of 5

    Archita Mitra

    This is the first time I have picked up anything by Virginia Woolf, and I found myself pleasantly surprised. My friends would tell me she was a good author, but I never realised how prolific she was. This is a nice volume of stories to start reading Woolf with as we get to explore different flavours of her pen. 1. 'A Haunted House' was the first story in the volume and was beautiful. It blended human emotions of love and family so beautifully with death and the paranormal. 2. 'A Society' is a ton This is the first time I have picked up anything by Virginia Woolf, and I found myself pleasantly surprised. My friends would tell me she was a good author, but I never realised how prolific she was. This is a nice volume of stories to start reading Woolf with as we get to explore different flavours of her pen. 1. 'A Haunted House' was the first story in the volume and was beautiful. It blended human emotions of love and family so beautifully with death and the paranormal. 2. 'A Society' is a tongue-in-cheek analysis of the patriarchy that I absolutely adored. 3. 'Monday or Tuesday' puts a beautiful twist to the phrase 'from the bird's eye view', and I liked the philosophical angle of petty problems becoming insignificant from a distance which is echoed in her other stories as well, like 'Kew Gardens'. 4. 'An Unwritten Novel' will resonate with every writer out there who has ever looked at a stranger and wondered what their story is. It was one of my personal favourites from the anthology. 5. 'The String Quartret' mesmerized me with the graceful use of language to pull me into the vivid scene of a crowded theatre. 6. 'Blue and Green' answers the question: can colours be only seen or can they also be felt intangibly? 7. 'Kew Gardens' is a beautiful insight into human lives captured through snatches of conversation in a garden. Another one of my favourites. 8. 'The Mark On The Wall' reads like an exercise in free writing - the writer's free flowing thoughts guide the story to unexpected directions, ending with a brilliant twist that lassoes the plot back into place, revealing that the writer had only pretended to meander away.

  14. 4 out of 5

    Aseel

    chastity is nothing but ignorance—a most discreditable state of mind. We should admit only the unchaste to our society. “the truth has nothing to do with literature,” “that fiction is the mirror of life. IT FELT LIKE 300 PAGES NOT 55 1. A Haunted House★ 2. A Society★★★★★ 3. Monday or Tuesday★ 4. An Unwritten Novel★ 5. The String Quartet★ 6. Blue & Green★ 7. Kew Gardens★★ 8. The Mark on the Wall★★★★ * the beam I sought always burnt behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us; * Waking, I cry chastity is nothing but ignorance—a most discreditable state of mind. We should admit only the unchaste to our society. “the truth has nothing to do with literature,” “that fiction is the mirror of life. IT FELT LIKE 300 PAGES NOT 55 1. A Haunted House★ 2. A Society★★★★★ 3. Monday or Tuesday★ 4. An Unwritten Novel★ 5. The String Quartet★ 6. Blue & Green★ 7. Kew Gardens★★ 8. The Mark on the Wall★★★★ * the beam I sought always burnt behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us; * Waking, I cry “Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.” * “Why,” she asked, “if men write such rubbish as this, should our mothers have wasted their youth in bringing them into the world?” * “Read us poetry!” I cannot describe the desolation which fell upon us as she opened a little volume and mouthed out the verbose, sentimental foolery which it contained. “It must have been written by a woman,” one of us urged. But no. She told us that it was written by a young man, * For though we like her, Poll is no beauty; leaves her shoe laces untied; and must have been thinking, while we praised men, that not one of them would ever wish to marry her. * we drew round the fire and began as usual to praise men—how strong, how noble, how brilliant, how courageous, how beautiful they were how we envied those who by hook or by crook managed to get attached to one for life— * I venerated my mother for bearing ten; still more my grandmother for bearing fifteen; it was, I confess, my own ambition to bear twenty. We have gone on all these ages supposing that men were equally industrious, and that their works were of equal merit. While we have borne the children, they, we supposed, have borne the books and the pictures. We have populated the world. They have civilized it. But now that we can read, what prevents us from judging the results? Before we bring another child into the world we must swear that we will find out what the world is like.” * she had come to the conclusion that the Judges were either made of wood or were impersonated by large animals resembling man who had been trained to move with extreme dignity, mumble and nod their heads... But from the evidence she brought we voted that it is unfair to suppose that the Judges are men. * chastity is nothing but ignorance—a most discreditable state of mind. We should admit only the unchaste to our society. I vote that Castalia shall be our President.” “It is as unfair to brand women with chastity as with unchastity,” said Poll. “Some of us haven’t the opportunity either. * “that fiction is the mirror of life. * The only reason why we escaped with our lives over and over again is that men are at once so hungry and so chivalrous. They despise us too much to mind what we say.” * “the truth has nothing to do with literature,” * A good man, we had agreed, must at any rate be honest, passionate, and unworldly. * We agreed that it was the object of life to produce good people and good books. * “Once she knows how to read there’s only one thing you can teach her to believe in—and that is herself.” * for Heaven’s sake let us devise a method by which men may bear children! It is our only chance. For unless we provide them with some innocent occupation occupation we shall get neither good people nor good books; we shall perish beneath the fruits of their unbridled activity; and not a human being will survive to know that there once was Shakespeare!” * Ask any journalist, schoolmaster, politician or public house keeper in the land and they will all tell you that men are much cleverer than women.” * How can I bring my daughter up to believe in nothing?” she demanded. “Surely you could teach her to believe that a man’s intellect is, and always will be, fundamentally superior to a woman’s?” * If we hadn’t learnt to read,” she said bitterly, “we might still have been bearing children in ignorance and that I believe was the happiest life after all * would trust you with my heart. Moreover, we have left our bodies in the banqueting hall. Those on the turf are the shadows of our souls.” * The tongue is but a clapper. * the tune, like all his tunes, makes one despair—I mean hope. What do I mean? That’s the worst of music! I want to dance, laugh, eat pink cakes, yellow cakes, drink thin, sharp wine. Or an indecent story, now—I could relish that. * All the time I’m dressing up the figure of myself in my own mind, lovingly, stealthily, not openly adoring it, for if I did that, I should catch myself out, and stretch my hand at once for a book in self- protection. Indeed, it is curious how instinctively one protects the image of oneself from idolatry or any other handling that could make it ridiculous, or too unlike the original to be believed in any longer. Or is it not so very curious after all? It is a matter of great importance. Suppose the looking glass smashes, the image disappears, and the romantic figure with the green of forest depths all about it is there no longer, but only that shell of a person which is seen by other people—what an airless, shallow, bald, prominent world it becomes! A world not to be lived in. As we face each other in omnibuses and underground railways we are looking into the mirror that accounts for the vagueness, the gleam of glassiness, in our eyes

  15. 4 out of 5

    Yeshi Dolma

    This read was no less than a precious piece of art. 4.5/5 - rounded it down. VirginiaWoolf's writing - so fluid, poetry merging into thought, space and consciousness and back to story. You beautiful genius, thank you esp. for 'The String Quartet'.

  16. 4 out of 5

    Pradnya K.

    3.5 stars This book has eight short stories, all on different subject, sharing distinct quality of storytelling; for their is no story in them as such. Its amazing how a tiny spot on the wall takes Woolf to the tour of imagination, each scene disconnected from the other and yet forming the journey of the story. She jumps from one thought to other, a concept, an idea, a reverie or imagination of poet throughout the stories and I was like 'hang on, how did she come from fluttering petals to a a fi 3.5 stars This book has eight short stories, all on different subject, sharing distinct quality of storytelling; for their is no story in them as such. Its amazing how a tiny spot on the wall takes Woolf to the tour of imagination, each scene disconnected from the other and yet forming the journey of the story. She jumps from one thought to other, a concept, an idea, a reverie or imagination of poet throughout the stories and I was like 'hang on, how did she come from fluttering petals to a a fifteen years back dragonfly memory to a couple with parasol-and then to the forests of Uruguay?' Everything is single unit like a bead and connected via nothing but a threadbare flight of imagination. It must be her usual way of thinking when she observed a snail, an idle couple in garden, flowers, walking together or having tea, what do you call it? Abstract? Esoteric ? It was remarkable how she thinks of death. The Haunted house is about the older occupants of house visiting it after death to find their sweet memories as treasure, or of Moggridge, the spirits comes in real world. Also A Society is good take, hanging between satire, modernisation and accepted norms. But it's her flight of imagination in poetic language that leaves impression. In her words “[...]words with short wings for their heavy body of meaning, inadequate to carry them far and thus alighting awkwardly upon the very common objects that surrounded them, and were to their inexperienced touch so massive” Don't read it with any expectations; the stories just slip out of your thoughts, vanishing, giving birth to another one and that's the beauty of it.

  17. 5 out of 5

    Katharine

    This was my first exposure to Virginia Woolf and I think I'm going to have to put her up there with martinis and caviar -- things you're supposed to appreciate in order to seem sophisticated, but really you'd rather have beer and tuna salad.

  18. 4 out of 5

    Robledo Cabral

    Most people are probably aware of Virginia Woolf’s importance, relevance and brilliance on account of her reinvention of the novel. In “Mrs. Dalloway” and “To The Lighthouse”, arguably her most celebrated works and true literary masterpieces, Mrs. Woolf finally presents to her readers her literary voice in its matchless maturity. Her prose vibrates with hope, even when she’s looking steadily into humankind’s many limitations; it overflows with vivacity, even when she’s looking at the waves and h Most people are probably aware of Virginia Woolf’s importance, relevance and brilliance on account of her reinvention of the novel. In “Mrs. Dalloway” and “To The Lighthouse”, arguably her most celebrated works and true literary masterpieces, Mrs. Woolf finally presents to her readers her literary voice in its matchless maturity. Her prose vibrates with hope, even when she’s looking steadily into humankind’s many limitations; it overflows with vivacity, even when she’s looking at the waves and hearing, in them, the low-pitched invitation of death. For her to finally become able to sustain her position as one of the greatest novelists of the 20th century, however, Mrs. Woolf is known to have spent most of her life endlessly working on her relationship with language. She wrote more conventional novels, short stories, essays, letters; she produced abundant amounts of literary criticism. Similarly, her diaries are downright breathtaking, and she remained faithful to them even as she channeled all her energies into her publication-bound pursuits. All through that “haphazard gallop” (to use one of her many immortal expressions), Mrs. Woolf progressively solidified her own understanding of what literature meant, what purposes it served, and what sort of relationship it holds with life and death, love and loss, men and women, cities and nature. Few authors have taken literature as seriously as Mrs. Woolf did – in truth, all aspiring writers should definitely take a day or two to reflect on her marvelous “A letter to a young poet”. Mrs. Woolf’s oeuvre is full of stepping stones: instances of experimentation, trial and error she had to grapple with in order to slowly make sense of her innermost intentions. “Jacob’s Room”, for instance, is one of such intermediary states: the luminous fragmentation which is the essence of “To The Lighthouse” is already there – the first chapters, in particular, are dazzling –, but, somewhere in between covers, Mrs. Woolf loses her ability to place something underneath all her meanderings. What sets her later novels apart from “Jacob’s Room” is that the latter utterly lacks the sense of unification which allows readers to penetrate into the chaotic web of Mrs. Woolf’s best works and emerge feeling as though they’ve become better, more full-fledged, more fearful human beings. “Jacob’s Room” is seething with wonderful potential, but it never renders itself believable. The first modulations of Mrs. Woolf’s heroic voice are already there, but not as they would later rise: here they are still faltering, a little too lost. Instead of diving into the marrow of life, her narrator swims backwards and forwards, moving around an ocean of riddles in helpless jerks, yet never submerging more than a few inches. To stick to that metaphor, we could also say that, in “Jacob’s Room”, Mrs. Woolf still hadn’t managed to put together her own lifeline. Comments of the same kind apply to “Monday or Tuesday”, a short story collection published by Mrs. Woolf in 1921. Originally a ninety-page book, it contains eight short stories – some of which are but one or two pages long. In most of these stories (“A society” being, perhaps, the only exception), one would have to use a microscope to detect any sort of plot. Instead, Mrs. Woolf is interested in capturing, portraying and illuminating the impressionistic quality of everyday life, of everyday perceptions. In “The Mark on The Wall”, for instance, an individual notices a tiny mark a few inches above his mantelpiece, and, as he comes up with explanations for what it might be, his mind is torpedoed by daydreams and recollections. For the span of a few life-infused minutes, he inhabits myriad different worlds, becomes other people – his life, in all its careful organization, is torn asunder as multitudes of imaginative figures loom. To quote her again, Mrs. Woolf’s literary playground (or battlefield) is precisely that “incessant shower of innumerable atoms”. In most of the stories here, there will indeed be a starting point, an illusion of linearity – but only for a few paragraphs or pages, until her furious pen shatters any hope of solidity. Her prose moves in all possible directions, attempting to encompass the entire world in the knock-out duration of a few pages. For she has very little time, she must move very fast, and, in doing so, she quivers and stumbles, falls on her back and rolls around, bumps on the furniture and on page margins. There’s perhaps too much ambition in this collection, and, like someone attempting to hold a 5-pound diamond on a spoon, Mrs. Woolf is terribly clumsy, shaky, and untrustworthy as a narrator. Several problems come into view as a result of her inability to entrance her readers. The first one is perhaps the most obvious flaw of the book: when a narrator cannot convince you of the notability of her comings and goings, all her flashy metaphors, all her breathlessly long sentences strike you as bothersome and overworked. Instead of regarding “Monday or Tuesday” as a cryptic experience, as a plunge into the unfathomable depths of life, you end up viewing it as a half-hearted, well thought-out but poorly executed, endeavour to jump forward and bunglingly entrap existence in a backpack. To appreciate stream of consciousness, before you feel it, you need to believe it. And that sort of reliability only comes from a certain narrative self-confidence that Mrs. Woolf would only develop (and exquisitely so!) in later works. Another major shortcoming is the fact that, despite there being at least eight different perspectives at stake here, one gets the impression that the narrator is precisely the same in all the stories. There are similar references to omnibuses and Shakespeare, similar outbursts of unknowingness stirred by similar stimuli. Mrs. Woolf, whose quintessentially experimental “The Waves” is known to be as astonishingly multifaceted, makes every single piece in “Monday or Tuesday” be told by the same voice – which sort of impoverishes the whole “short story collection” enterprise, with its promise of polyphony. The colourful language is already here, as well as the inward-driven obsession which renders Mrs. Woolf one of the greatest investigators of the human soul in Western literature, but whatever brightness there could be in this collection is utterly eclipsed by its tumultuous, all-over-the-place quality. “Monday or Tuesday” lacks energy because it never allows a single spark to grow into an all-out inferno: it’s all just so hasty and tentative it feels fraudulent. I’d only recommend this to Woolf enthusiasts who are interested in learning more about how her work slowly gained consistence and intelligence. As an introduction to her literature, however, PLEASE disregard this and grab yourself a copy of “Mrs. Dalloway”.

  19. 5 out of 5

    Ali

    These stories are all generally pretty short, some just a couple of pages, they are impressionistic, and at times feel rather experimental. A few of the stories I read twice, captivated by the imagery, appreciative of the delicious prose, I found myself bemused occasionally asking myself ‘well what did she mean by that then?’ Searching for meaning particularly in the two very short pieces, which are over almost as soon as they have begun; Monday or Tuesday and Blue and Green. Woolf’s powers of o These stories are all generally pretty short, some just a couple of pages, they are impressionistic, and at times feel rather experimental. A few of the stories I read twice, captivated by the imagery, appreciative of the delicious prose, I found myself bemused occasionally asking myself ‘well what did she mean by that then?’ Searching for meaning particularly in the two very short pieces, which are over almost as soon as they have begun; Monday or Tuesday and Blue and Green. Woolf’s powers of observation and description are certainly what stand out from these eight stories, as ever her prose is simply wonderful. The collection opens with A Haunted House, in which the ghostly presence of the past rub shoulders with the living inhabitants. The ghostly couple roam the house, reminiscing their past, while the residents of the house sleep. I adored the descriptions of the silent house, the feeling of the past presence which still exists there. Full review: https://heavenali.wordpress.com/2016/...

  20. 4 out of 5

    Marie

    I've finally managed to read a complete work by Virginia Woolf. Her imagery when it comes to describing natural landscapes is stunning, her use of words, and mostly the way in which each tale in Monday or Tuesday makes you read twice, to be aware of the fact that our perceptions are perspectives that might not have to do with how reality is. It also denounces the situation of the women at the time, particularly in An Unwritten Novel and A Society. It also manages to talk about war in several opp I've finally managed to read a complete work by Virginia Woolf. Her imagery when it comes to describing natural landscapes is stunning, her use of words, and mostly the way in which each tale in Monday or Tuesday makes you read twice, to be aware of the fact that our perceptions are perspectives that might not have to do with how reality is. It also denounces the situation of the women at the time, particularly in An Unwritten Novel and A Society. It also manages to talk about war in several opportunities, this nonsense, this state of destruction... but it's also this strong seeking of the truth. It's kind of a conflictive relationship that I have with her texts, I like them but I don't feel I am at the level of understanding what's being told in its entirety. Definitely a good introduction to her work. Even though I picked it on my own.

  21. 5 out of 5

    metaphor

    Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate. Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks — or now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets beneath and the Indian seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint — truth? content with closeness? Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then bares them.

  22. 4 out of 5

    Spencer Rich

    More like a 3 1/2. You can tell that she is really experimenting in an attempt to get towards what she would achieve with To the Lighthouse and Mrs. Dalloway. The "stories" here are more like prose poems than narratives, which she would put to great use in later works. But that's not to say that these are not fascinating vignettes--lovely, dreamy, and abstract, unlike Gertrude Stein's harsh experiments.

  23. 4 out of 5

    Debra

    A collection of short stories. I am sitting here with a big question mark over my head. One story in this collection made sense. The others rambled on and on about nothing. What does anyone see in Virginia Woolf? Maybe her other stories are better than these. How did this book get published?

  24. 4 out of 5

    Kate

    I really loved some stories in this, and others were just okay. Woolf's writing style never fails to amaze me, and her forward thinking during her time period is also wonderful.

  25. 4 out of 5

    bronwyn

    If there's one thing I'm learning from this corpus project it's that early Woolf could kill a girl. Some of these stories are stupendous -- 'Kew Gardens' and 'The Mark on the Wall', a.k.a. the Snail Stories, are the obvious darlings, but I'd also put 'The String Quartet' up against the best -- but the rest are so try-hard or smug or in the case of the lead story, 'A Haunted House', downright trite, that you really start to wonder how you're ever going to make it to Jacob's Room. And a one-word i If there's one thing I'm learning from this corpus project it's that early Woolf could kill a girl. Some of these stories are stupendous -- 'Kew Gardens' and 'The Mark on the Wall', a.k.a. the Snail Stories, are the obvious darlings, but I'd also put 'The String Quartet' up against the best -- but the rest are so try-hard or smug or in the case of the lead story, 'A Haunted House', downright trite, that you really start to wonder how you're ever going to make it to Jacob's Room. And a one-word instance of severe racism entirely irrelevant to the rest of the story nevertheless entirely ruined 'An Unwritten Novel' for me. tl;dr : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

  26. 5 out of 5

    Asha Seth

    None of the stories stood out for me. In fact, I am wondering what I just read. Short stories are supposed to leave a dent on the reader's mind which this book failed at awfully bad. Sure, her style is something, but if it doesn't manage get the reader hooked, it is plain insufficient.

  27. 5 out of 5

    mariana

    I honestly have no idea how it happened, but I found it bizarre that I found the story super tiring to read, being that it is very short, I think that maybe the way it was extremely detailed, ended up becoming the tiring book to read, and that became uninteresting after the third chapter.

  28. 4 out of 5

    Benjamin Brubaker

    You don't have to pay attention to fall in love with Virginia Woolf, but it helps if you want to understand her.

  29. 5 out of 5

    Sherilyn

    It's Saturday and Virginia Woolf is not my cup of tea. I'm going to accept this and move on with my life.

  30. 4 out of 5

    Angelia Katsianos

    So many intriguing short stories, I enjoyed most of them, but my favourite was A Society.

Add a review

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Loading...
We use cookies to give you the best online experience. By using our website you agree to our use of cookies in accordance with our cookie policy.