There are many things one can enjoy in Mrs. Dalloway: the writing ("to watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy"), the characters (oh Septimus!), and even the endless semicolons (this; is; a; great; example). But my personal love for this book springs from the beauty it creates. Take, for instance, the quote: "As a cloud crosses the sun, silence falls on London; and falls on the mind. Effort ceases. Time flaps on the mast. There we stop; there we stand (48)." From beginning to end, this sentence brews in one's mind like a relentless painter, its every word washes over like millions of brush strokes. When one reads Woolf, one reads the words; any of them is beautiful enough to be a novel; every turn of phrase worthy of a poem.
And yet, the author somehow manages to assemble a book out of all these perfect expressions - unimaginable! Now these words become parts of a greater picture, a masterpiece no doubt, and the sentences swirl together effortlessly into an splendid painting. It's incredible, enviable, and notably Woolf-esque. I don't know about you, but I'm planning to read ahead! (Sssh.)
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