In May 1933, Virginia Woolf and her husband Leonard embarked on a road trip through Southern Europe. During their stay at a pension in Siena, Woolf found herself captivated by Henry James’s experimental novel, ”The Sacred Fount.” Despite finding the book challenging, she admired James’s audacity to ”break the mould” of his own writing. This phrase, ”breaking the mould,” became a recurring theme in Woolf’s diary, reflecting her relentless pursuit of innovation and her determination to avoid repeating past literary successes. Fresh off the heels of her triumphs with ”Orlando” and ”The Waves,” Woolf wrestled with the daunting task of charting a new creative course.
Woolf’s diaries offered an intimate glimpse into the author’s multifaceted mind. The unpredictable nature of her entries, shifting from insightful literary critiques to mundane daily concerns and poetic observations, captivated readers. This captivating blend of the profound and the ordinary, coupled with glimpses into the vibrant Bloomsbury circle and Woolf’s creative process, made her diaries a source of comfort, joy, and inspiration. The diaries revealed Woolf’s profound connection to writing, a sanctuary where she felt most complete. This unfiltered self-portrait contrasted sharply with the portrayals presented in biographies, which, while obligated to explore her flaws, often failed to capture the inherent humanness evident in her diaries. Updike’s observation about the limitations of literary biographies resonated deeply, highlighting the difficulty of conveying the innocence of the “real self” amidst the accumulation of documented life events.
Driven by her need to continually evolve her writing, Woolf embarked on an ambitious project shortly after completing ”The Waves.” She envisioned a sweeping portrayal of societal and gender transformations from the late Victorian era to the present day. This ambitious endeavor required a new, untested form, challenging Woolf’s own skepticism towards hybrid literature. She planned to juxtapose fact and fiction in alternating layers, interweaving personal narratives with essays on life and society to create a multi-dimensional perspective. Starting in the autumn of 1932, Woolf experienced an initial burst of creative energy, filling pages with remarkable speed. She likened her mind to a ”Rolls Royce engine” running at full speed, reveling in the exhilarating flow of words and ideas.
However, by August 1934, doubts began to creep in, eventually escalating into despair as she edited the manuscript. The innovative alternating structure proved unwieldy, forcing her to abandon it in favor of a more conventional, albeit still distinctly Woolfian, family saga. The sheer scale of the project, ballooning to 740 pages, became overwhelming, contributing to a prolonged period of depression and self-doubt. The weight of a substantial advance from her American publisher added to the pressure, and Woolf found herself contemplating the drastic measure of burning the manuscript. Leonard Woolf’s reading of the manuscript, though filled with veiled praise to protect his wife’s fragile state, provided the impetus for her to complete the work, which was eventually published in March 1937 under the title ”The Years.”
The publication of ”The Years” was met with unexpected success, especially in the United States, where it was marketed as a traditional family saga. Despite its commercial success, the novel remains a flawed masterpiece. While replete with beautiful and poignant scenes, they ultimately fail to coalesce into a powerful, unified whole. The narrative arc remains elusive, and the fragmented nature of the story, with its jarring time jumps and disappearing characters, contributes to a sense of incompleteness. Furthermore, the tension between Woolf’s ambitious goals and the chosen medium ultimately undermines the project. The absence of any meaningful engagement with significant historical events, like World War I, creates a disconnect between the novel’s intended scope and its actual content. The result is a work that, while showcasing Woolf’s brilliance in capturing individual moments of human experience, lacks the cohesive force to deliver on its grand ambition.
Despite the emotional toll of ”The Years,” Woolf was not deterred from writing. As World War II raged, she began work on what would become her final novel, ”Between the Acts.” This time, she returned to familiar territory, employing her characteristic free-flowing prose and intimate portrayal of characters. The novel centers around an amateur theatrical production on a country estate during the summer of 1939, serving as a microcosm of England on the brink of war. The play within the novel, a historical pageant, becomes a meta-narrative layer, offering both humor and poignant commentary on the nature of art and the anxieties of the time. Though initially pleased with ”Between the Acts,” Woolf succumbed to a crippling depression following its completion, fueled by the war, her own self-doubt, and a sense of the meaninglessness of her work in the face of global turmoil. On March 28, 1941, she tragically took her own life. The character of Miss La Trobe, the playwright in ”Between the Acts,” embodies both the comedic and tragic aspects of the artistic struggle. Through her, Woolf articulates the profound vulnerability and self-doubt that often accompany creative endeavors, offering a poignant reflection on the fleeting nature of artistic triumph and the persistent allure of the creative impulse even in the face of despair.
