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Virginia Woolf

One of the most important 20th-century modernist authors and a pioneer in the use of stream of consciousness as a narrative device. Author of such novels as "Mrs Dalloway", "To the Lighthouse", "Orlando" and others.

Virginia Woolf

One of the most important 20th-century modernist authors and a pioneer in the use of stream of consciousness as a narrative device. Author of such novels as "Mrs Dalloway", "To the Lighthouse", "Orlando" and others.

No, I'm not sure of the date. And Vita is lunching here. I'm going to stop R. at 12, then read something real. I'm not going to let my brain addle. Little sharp notes. For somehow my brain is not very vigorous at the end of a book though I could dash off fiction or an article merrily enough. Why not relieve it then? Wasn't it my conscientious grind at The Years that killed it. So I whizz off to Stevenson - Jekyll and Hyde - not much to my liking. Very fine clear September weather. Windy but lovely light. And I can't form letters.

I have just read 3 or 4 characters of Theophrastus, stumbling from Greek to English, and may as well make a note of it. Trying to anchor my mind on Greek. Rather successful. As usual. how Greek sticks, darts, eels in and out! No Latin would have noted that a boor remembers his loans in the middle of the night. The Greek has his eye on the object. But it's a long distance one has to roll away to get at Theophrastus and Plato. But worth the effort.



So far, the Athenia has been sunk. It seems entirely meaningless-a perfunctory slaughter. Like taking a jar in one hand, a hammer in the other. Why must this be smashed? Nobody knows. This feeling is different from any before. And all the blood has been let out of common life. No movies or theatres allowed. No letters, except strays from America. Reviewing rejected by Atlantic. No friends write or ring up. Yes, a long sea voyage, with strangers making conversation, and lots of small bothers and arrangements, seems the closest I can get. Of course all creative power is cut off. Perfect summer weather. See more

Our first air raid warning at 8.30 this morning. A warbling that gradually insinuates itself as I lay in bed. So dressed and walked on the terrace with L. Sky clear. All cottages shut. [Breakfast. All clear. During the interval a raid on Southwark. No news. The Hepworths came on Monday. Rather like a sea voyage. Forced conversation. Boredom.] All meaning has run out of everything. Scarcely worth reading papers. The B.B.C. gives any news the day before. Emptiness. Inefficiency. I may as well record these things. See more

17:20

The Russian pact a disagreeable and unforeseen surprise. Rather like a herd of sheep we are. No enthusiasm. Patient bewilderment. I suspect some desire "to get on with it." Order double supplies and some coal.