The Essays of Virginia Woolf, Vol. 4: 1925-1928

This volume includes the essays I was grumpy about being missing from earlier volume, the editor choosing to put the entire Common Reader in here for some reason. Once you get over that chaffing, you settle in for hundreds of pages of essays printed across a much wider number of journals, including American ones which paid more than  TLS’s fee (so we see a precipitous drop in submissions to poor Bruce Richmond who was so important to helping VW gain confidence in her voice; plus there’s the 1921 matter of him rejecting her characterization of Henry James’s story as lewd).

Asking How Should One Read a Book, “one should read it as if one were writing it.” She gives an example of Defoe and how we casually drops in a little unnecessary fact that isn’t necessary to the story but is necessary to the truth of the story because this is how people talk—they always add some irrelevant detail without thinking. In this essay she also mentions something that I’m afflicted by: “so curiously is the brain compounded that while tracts of literature repel at one season, they are appetising and essential at another.”

We need to realize “how great a part the art of not reading plays into the art of reading. To be able to read books without reading them, to skip and saunter, to suspend judgement, to lounge and loaf down the alleys and bye-streets of letters is the best way of rejuvenating one’s own creative power.”

Another favorite, Street Haunting, has brilliant passages about books:

Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world.

In writing of American writers, she praises Ring Lardner’s You Know Me, Al, pinpointing his success of using baseball as a meeting place for a diverse group of people who have no other center. “Games give him what society gives his English brother.” She also praises Americans for coining new words, saying that when the Brits want to freshen their speech, they borrow from America’s “poppycock, rambunctious, flipflop, booster, good-mixer — all the expressive ugly vigorous slang which creeps into use among us first in talk, later in writing…”

Tackling the subject of  her great-aunt Julia Margaret Cameron, she notes how Cameron chased Tennyson into his room shouting Coward! Coward! when he refused to get a vaccination.