Orlando by Virginia Woolf
Virginia Woolf’s Orlando claims it is a biography. A young man, the namesake Orlando, is in London in the 16th century. At first, we meet him in an attic, having fun with his severed head and a sword. Virginia Woolf also tells us to hope that Orlando will become a woman at a later date. It is meant to be a surprise book.
He is, of course, in court, where else? He rubs shoulders with Tudor bigwigs, even monarchs. Of course, he is in court. Where else could such a character reside? Bloomsbury, maybe … A few years later, it even looks up at the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, many decades before it was built. Despite its historic setting, Orlando doesn’t care much about precision. It is not long before this biography becomes decidedly less definable, although its author continues to invoke her stated intention to present the life of an individual.
Orlando, both the book and the character, is quite difficult to define. Although it apparently focuses on the life, or perhaps the life of an individual, the book is not a biography, not even a fiction. Nor is it really a novel, since it does not offer a plot, nor characterization, nor description of relationships. There are many names and many references to historical figures, but the story is definitely not, the author often prefers to drop personal opinion almost randomly along with a name. Orlando meets and even spends time with various literary figures from the past, notably Pope, who is even quoted from time to time.
The writing is usually poetic, but Orlando is not poetry, nor is it a poetic novel. Some markers are needed, so here are some highlights from the text to illustrate both Virginia Woolf’s inventiveness as well as how the test often seems disjointed, like random flashbacks in a dream.
“What good is being a good young woman in the prime of life,” he asked, “if I have to spend all my mornings looking at blue bottles with and the Archduke?”
“Life and a lover” – a line that did not scan and did not make sense with the above – something about the correct way to submerge the sheep to avoid scabbing. Reading it, he blushed and repeated:
“Life and lover”.
He started. The horse stopped.
“Ma’am,” the man yelled, leaping to the ground, “she’s hurt!”
“I’m dead sir!” She answered.
A few minutes later they got engaged.
Orlando lives for the better part of 400 years, at least within these pages, and has numerous different lives, both as a man and as a woman. He is a man, he becomes a woman, he marries and has children, and then he becomes a man again. He is a writer, a poet, a broker, whatever the page seems to demand of him or her. Orlando shows a bit of character, much less coherence within these different identities. The character increasingly feels like a vehicle for his creator’s personal grievances. On several occasions, the reader appears to occupy the back seat of a taxi, with the driver repeatedly saying, “And something else …”, over his shoulder.
It may or may not be relevant, but it should be noted that Virginia Woolf, for all her talents as a writer, for all her abilities as a dream word image builder, was mentally unstable and became more unstable as she progressed. Aged The unfortunate observation about Orlando is that the book appears to be a series of thoughts, illusions, memories, prejudices, illusions, memories, prejudices, spiteful comments, and stubborn speeches gathered at random and almost disconnected. Orlando isn’t a minor achievement for any of this, though, as it contains some royal gems, but also a lot that is impenetrable and dark.
What is clear, at all times, is Virginia Woolf’s version of feminism from the 1920s. It provides a thread that connects the bones in this book, but it is a thread that is far from golden, and the skeleton thus constructed has an unrecognizable shape or form. Furthermore, in fact, she often seems optimistic, almost defeatist in her analysis, most of the time equating “woman” with poverty, ignorance, or failure, even when the female characters themselves, as individuals, are nothing short of assertive. It may, of course, be that you are projecting stereotypes associated with the people you describe, but it is difficult to be convinced of this as consistency is not a word that can be used to describe Orlando, which is a unique book, his success. it is a genuine achievement of a vivid and strange imagination.