A few months ago, when looking for the next book I wanted to read. There’s no shortage of bookshelves in the house, plus a couple of dozen e-books on my phone. I wanted to read something I was fairly sure I would enjoy yet wouldn’t want to keep. I was in an obscure part of our basement, where we had a few dozen books on a shelf, and I spied the perfect book: The Letters of Virginia Woolf: Vol. 3.
I have no idea where we picked up this book (at a used bookstore or garage sale, no doubt) nor when (at least eight years ago). When I bought it (and it had to be me—Lynda wouldn’t have spent even 50¢ on it. And I knew next to nothing about Virginia Woolf other than a vague notion that she was a writer.
Pulling her letters off the shelf and diving into them caused me to do a little research on her. She was a British author of novels and prose. The period of the letters in this volume, 1923-1928. During this time Woolf wrote three of her novels: Mrs. Dalloway, To The Lighthouse, and Orlando. She was also writing articles and reviews for literary magazines and, on occasion, giving lectures.
And writing letters. The book includes 637 letters. That’s one letters every 3.5 days—and that’s just the letters that have been collected. No doubt she wrote other letters that the recipients didn’t preserve.
The letters were more personal than business. Many were to Woolf’s sister, Vanessa Bell. Many others were to a good friend from adulthood, Vita Sackville-West. Much of the contents we would consider gossip. Woolf was part of what is known the Bloomsbury Set, a group of authors and critics that met in the Bloomsbury section of London. Their heyday was 1905-1920 or so. Thus, this volume is after the days of Bloomsbury.
But Bloomsbury still played a part in in Woolf’s life. Many of the letters are to those who had been part of the Bloomsbury set. They talked about their writings and thoughts, but also about each other and about others in their set. Yes, gossip. And Woolf admitted as much in her letters. I read the book over July to Nov 2024, with an interruption of about a month due hospital stays and illness.
So I come down to my usual questions. How do I rate this book and why do I rate it thusly, will I ever read it again, is it a keeper, and do I recommend it to others. I give it 4-stars, mainly because I like to read letters as unfiltered history. I would have to say, however, that I’ve enjoyed other collections of letters more. I got through all 575 pages, but at times I would read a paragraph, and wonder what I had just read. Was it distracted reading by me or material in the letters that failed to hold my attention.
I don’t see myself ever reading this again, thus it isn’t a keeper. I also don’t recommend it. That is, unless Virgina Woolf is a literary study for you, or you just like reading letters—any letters. One warning if you do want to find and read this letter. My copy was a trade paperback, and it fell apart in two pieces as I rea it. So be gentle with it if you do read it.
