Reviews
As you read it, you're wondering when the bomb is going to explode. You know she wrote it when the germans were bombing England. She was under a gigantic stress, you can feel it if you know her, but she's algo clinging desesperately to poetry and words and beauty in this last book. She tells you about this play that is being performed, but also about the people watching it and about the fields and of all these little secrets that only she, all mighty Virginia, could see. You can tell that this book wasn't ready, but neither was she. Maybe everything she needed to say it's here, in this fragmentary way. It's up to us to get it. I believe it's beautiful, but if you already read all that she's written, please do wait before you get into this. You'll miss her horribly. It's always heartwarming to know that you still have one more Woolf novel to get into.
