My difficult relationship with Mrs Dalloway

difficult relationship with Mrs Dalloway

My difficult relationship with Mrs Dalloway had few stages.

Few years ago I bought myself a copy of Mrs Dalloway (in English) and I got stuck. I honestly I couldn’t go further than dozen pages because I had to translate so many of the words. Because I somehow knew that in this book every word matters.

Unfortunately I took me few years to get myself a polish copy of the book. I wanted to read it. But I wasn’t crazy about it. I’ve seen the movies based on Woolf’s life ad Woolf’s art and to be true I wanted to read it because it seems like I should. Only that. But then, I read “Room’s of its own” and my affair with Virginia Woolf got a bit more serious. I got intrigued not only by the “fame” of the books but by the author. By what she wanted to say.

I remember doing some research and listening a podcast about her. There was this story told by her nephew. He was little boy when he knew Virginia and he was talking about how curious she was about every detail of his life. Every second. When he was coming to visit, she was asking how he spent the morning and the asking more. And more. And even more…

I don’t remember the title of the podcast, but this story told by the old voice of Virginia’s nephew made a lasting impression. Because I could see it in Mrs. Dalloway. The gracious and beautiful attention. Because every word matters. This is why I couldn’t go further than dozen words while reading the original version.

I’m really happy that I finally read Mrs Dalloway. Mostly because it has so much in it. Even though, book is limited by the number of pages, there are no limitations in discovering and rediscovering the beauty and nostalgia of it. And of this passionate need to discover life…

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