A review of Virginia Woolf's "Orlando" (Serious Tl;DR)
I did it. I finished the book.
... and I have no idea what I just read. Fuck.
...
Okay, let me correct that--I have some idea, but it has very little to do with the content of the book. I just understand the basis in which the book was written on. It's partly a satirical biography. Virginia Woolf writes as a typical male biographer in that age. She presents sexist arguments (as this biographer) and then completely demolishes them with her (admittedly groundbreaking) characters.
Honestly, her writing is downright hilarious sometimes. I complained a lot about the purple prose early on in the novel. Most of the time, she wrote in that style to highlight Orlando's thought processes. Orlando was a poet, and often conceived some really ridiculous metaphors. As Orlando grew older, this lessened.
Sadly, though, toward the end of the novel, the prose picked back up. As Woolf tried to highlight the changes and events, she sort of overstepped the description and made it purposely ambiguous. I'm struggling to really come to a conclusion here.
The biggest problem I have with the book is the timeline. The book documents Orlando's life from the 1500s to 1928. Only a few times do we get a concrete date. To add even more confusion, Orlando doesn't refer to herself as her actual age; at her oldest she's 36. (Try again, my friend.)
Here's where things start to get confusing. Orlando marries a gentleman in the later 1800s. (Past 1840, no exact date is given) He's a sailor, and leaves her shortly after they marry. Orlando, finally feeling fulfilled, returns to writing her poetry compilation. After an undisclosed amount of time (Woolf only says 'years') she finishes it, submits it to Nick Greene, dwells on the meaning of life, love and literature, and returns home.
Some time later, Orlando is standing at her window, looking outside, when she is startled. There's a very symbolic description, filled with unimaginable prose. I can't even touch it. Next thing we know, the midwife is saying, "It's a very fine boy, M'lady." Orlando's given birth to a son.
Literally the next paragraph, Orlando is standing at a window again. Only this time, it's noted, the scenery is not the same. There are cars. It's 1928.
The rest of the book has Orlando trapped within her nostalgia, trying to accept the present and gather herself. She does to some extent manage this. Then, upon seeing her husband's ship approaching, she reiterates the conclusion she's come to about life and love. At the end she's reunited with her husband.
...
Some people are debating that this 'timeskip' into modern England is another life. That she's reborn. This is possibility #1. It accounts for the fact that her son is not present. (Save for a mentioning of 'boys boots' on a shopping list.)
Possibility #2 is that she was married in the late 1800s - early 1900s, and this is just a continuation of her long life. Her husband has been away at sea during this time. Her constant shock at living in the present could just be due to her nostalgia.
I'm really not sure which it is, although I'm leaning to #2. Makes more sense, since... Orlando has done this timeskip stuff more than once in her lifetime. I think she just loses track of time. Wouldn't you, if you'd lived 300 years?
To my knowledge, the relevance in this book to myself is Orlando's transformation and related points thereafter.
Before I begin, I just want to make this note. Virginia Woolf, along with society as a whole, seemed to believe that gender and sex were synonymous. Sex was often referred to as gender and vice versa in the novel. This is incorrect and I will be referring to both properly. (Sex = physical characteristics, gender = social)
The transformation itself was a bit odd. Orlando, who has been very comfortable as a male all her life, is turned into a female, and is... still exceedingly comfortable. Orlando doesn't seem to consider her sex problematic. The physical transformation is barely even mentioned.
As for her gender, well, Orlando doesn't really dwell on it until she's clod in her first skirt. As a man fawns over her, she realizes how her position in society has changed. At times, she's upset with it. At others, she's pleased with it. She eventually begins alternating between male and female identities. Her male is more adventurous, while her female settles for fancy formal parties.
Eventually, Orlando settles into her identity as a woman. However--and this is where that groundbreaking characterization comes in--she does not rid herself of her masculine qualities. Yes, she settles into her identity. (As is necessitated by society at this point.) But she strays from the typical gender role of the time.
So, what do I think about all this? For its age, it's remarkable. However, the lack of distinction between sex and gender makes me cringe. Orlando endures a sex change and isn't even surprised. Then, she begins to intuitively understand the perspective of a woman, as if granted it by biology. It doesn't work that way. Never has, never will.
The upside is the deviation from gender norms. Orlando and her husband both strayed from them. (Sasha did, too, I think.) They were unique. They did not let society define them--they defined themselves. I really appreciated that.
Mostly I just liked the cross-dressing, haha.
The other thing is the purpose of the book. I mean. What, exactly, was gained in this excerpt of Orlando's life? I missed the symbolism in the final lines. (Something about a wild turkey?) I did understand that she finally came to some conclusion on life and love. These were questions that plagued her since her childhood. Upon the oak tree, waiting for her husband to return, I think it all sort of came together. Ecstasy. Not fame, not glory, not titles, not wealth. Ecstasy. Her happiness. And her happiness was in nature, literature and her husband.
As for what I personally took from this book... not a whole lot. It was an interesting read, but a bloated one.
True to life, Orlando repeated many experiences within the book to the point where it was really a bummer to read. She had to dine out with nobles a thousand times before she finally, irrevocably decided that lifestyle wasn't for her. (And thank god, because those were some boring scenes....)
Then, her musing. Whenever she experienced a misfortune (Sasha, Nick, you name it) she would brood. And while eventually her conclusion served as a conclusion for the book itself, the musing was so repetitious that I barely managed through it. It was just too much.
I think the most enjoyable scenes were the conclusions. When she decides to write for her own happiness; when she becomes secure in her identity; when she realizes what life and love are. The way these individual scenes wrapped themselves up were enjoyable. More enjoyable than the ending, in fact.
I might consider reading this again in the future. It'd have to be out of my own volition. I do feel like I had the book forced on me, which limited my enjoyment of it. In a couple years, I'll pick it up under happier circumstances and see what's changed. 'Til then, I believe this is the entirety of my review.
... and I have no idea what I just read. Fuck.
...
Okay, let me correct that--I have some idea, but it has very little to do with the content of the book. I just understand the basis in which the book was written on. It's partly a satirical biography. Virginia Woolf writes as a typical male biographer in that age. She presents sexist arguments (as this biographer) and then completely demolishes them with her (admittedly groundbreaking) characters.
Honestly, her writing is downright hilarious sometimes. I complained a lot about the purple prose early on in the novel. Most of the time, she wrote in that style to highlight Orlando's thought processes. Orlando was a poet, and often conceived some really ridiculous metaphors. As Orlando grew older, this lessened.
Sadly, though, toward the end of the novel, the prose picked back up. As Woolf tried to highlight the changes and events, she sort of overstepped the description and made it purposely ambiguous. I'm struggling to really come to a conclusion here.
The biggest problem I have with the book is the timeline. The book documents Orlando's life from the 1500s to 1928. Only a few times do we get a concrete date. To add even more confusion, Orlando doesn't refer to herself as her actual age; at her oldest she's 36. (Try again, my friend.)
Here's where things start to get confusing. Orlando marries a gentleman in the later 1800s. (Past 1840, no exact date is given) He's a sailor, and leaves her shortly after they marry. Orlando, finally feeling fulfilled, returns to writing her poetry compilation. After an undisclosed amount of time (Woolf only says 'years') she finishes it, submits it to Nick Greene, dwells on the meaning of life, love and literature, and returns home.
Some time later, Orlando is standing at her window, looking outside, when she is startled. There's a very symbolic description, filled with unimaginable prose. I can't even touch it. Next thing we know, the midwife is saying, "It's a very fine boy, M'lady." Orlando's given birth to a son.
Literally the next paragraph, Orlando is standing at a window again. Only this time, it's noted, the scenery is not the same. There are cars. It's 1928.
The rest of the book has Orlando trapped within her nostalgia, trying to accept the present and gather herself. She does to some extent manage this. Then, upon seeing her husband's ship approaching, she reiterates the conclusion she's come to about life and love. At the end she's reunited with her husband.
...
Some people are debating that this 'timeskip' into modern England is another life. That she's reborn. This is possibility #1. It accounts for the fact that her son is not present. (Save for a mentioning of 'boys boots' on a shopping list.)
Possibility #2 is that she was married in the late 1800s - early 1900s, and this is just a continuation of her long life. Her husband has been away at sea during this time. Her constant shock at living in the present could just be due to her nostalgia.
I'm really not sure which it is, although I'm leaning to #2. Makes more sense, since... Orlando has done this timeskip stuff more than once in her lifetime. I think she just loses track of time. Wouldn't you, if you'd lived 300 years?
To my knowledge, the relevance in this book to myself is Orlando's transformation and related points thereafter.
Before I begin, I just want to make this note. Virginia Woolf, along with society as a whole, seemed to believe that gender and sex were synonymous. Sex was often referred to as gender and vice versa in the novel. This is incorrect and I will be referring to both properly. (Sex = physical characteristics, gender = social)
The transformation itself was a bit odd. Orlando, who has been very comfortable as a male all her life, is turned into a female, and is... still exceedingly comfortable. Orlando doesn't seem to consider her sex problematic. The physical transformation is barely even mentioned.
As for her gender, well, Orlando doesn't really dwell on it until she's clod in her first skirt. As a man fawns over her, she realizes how her position in society has changed. At times, she's upset with it. At others, she's pleased with it. She eventually begins alternating between male and female identities. Her male is more adventurous, while her female settles for fancy formal parties.
Eventually, Orlando settles into her identity as a woman. However--and this is where that groundbreaking characterization comes in--she does not rid herself of her masculine qualities. Yes, she settles into her identity. (As is necessitated by society at this point.) But she strays from the typical gender role of the time.
So, what do I think about all this? For its age, it's remarkable. However, the lack of distinction between sex and gender makes me cringe. Orlando endures a sex change and isn't even surprised. Then, she begins to intuitively understand the perspective of a woman, as if granted it by biology. It doesn't work that way. Never has, never will.
The upside is the deviation from gender norms. Orlando and her husband both strayed from them. (Sasha did, too, I think.) They were unique. They did not let society define them--they defined themselves. I really appreciated that.
Mostly I just liked the cross-dressing, haha.
The other thing is the purpose of the book. I mean. What, exactly, was gained in this excerpt of Orlando's life? I missed the symbolism in the final lines. (Something about a wild turkey?) I did understand that she finally came to some conclusion on life and love. These were questions that plagued her since her childhood. Upon the oak tree, waiting for her husband to return, I think it all sort of came together. Ecstasy. Not fame, not glory, not titles, not wealth. Ecstasy. Her happiness. And her happiness was in nature, literature and her husband.
As for what I personally took from this book... not a whole lot. It was an interesting read, but a bloated one.
True to life, Orlando repeated many experiences within the book to the point where it was really a bummer to read. She had to dine out with nobles a thousand times before she finally, irrevocably decided that lifestyle wasn't for her. (And thank god, because those were some boring scenes....)
Then, her musing. Whenever she experienced a misfortune (Sasha, Nick, you name it) she would brood. And while eventually her conclusion served as a conclusion for the book itself, the musing was so repetitious that I barely managed through it. It was just too much.
I think the most enjoyable scenes were the conclusions. When she decides to write for her own happiness; when she becomes secure in her identity; when she realizes what life and love are. The way these individual scenes wrapped themselves up were enjoyable. More enjoyable than the ending, in fact.
I might consider reading this again in the future. It'd have to be out of my own volition. I do feel like I had the book forced on me, which limited my enjoyment of it. In a couple years, I'll pick it up under happier circumstances and see what's changed. 'Til then, I believe this is the entirety of my review.