The Hours, an homage to the work of Virginia Woolf, is composed of three story lines woven seamlessly together that merge thematically (and in one dramatic moment physically) at various points in the novel. Virginia Woolf struggles in domestic exile from London as she begins to write Mrs. Dalloway. Laura Brown yearns for escape from 1950s family life. Clarissa Vaughan, like Clarissa Dalloway, is planning a party for her dearest friend Richard who has just won a literary prize as he slips away with AIDS.

All three women suffer in some degree from the scripting of their lives. As Woolf writes (or scripts) the fictional life of Mrs. Dalloway, her husband Leonard confines her to a domestic script removed from London where she has experienced such psychological unease. Woolf struggles to remember her lines as she gives directions to the housekeeper. She thinks that her sister, Vanessa, that visits is more comfortable in this play of domesticity than she will ever be. Laura feels that she is "about to go onstage and perform in a play for which she is not appropriately dressed, and for which she has not adequately rehearsed." Clarissa surveys her own kitchen and hardly recognizes the accoutrement of her life, all tastefully selected and arranged but more prop than reflection of her essence, the eighteen year old girl that kisses Richard in a defining moment.

Virginia and Laura both struggle under the societal expectations of their times. The lines they strive to deliver have been written by a patriarchal culture. Both characters have husbands that seek to control their actions under the guise of protecting them (from themselves presumably). However, both women reveal in their thoughts that the sanity or balance they desire exists outside the boundaries of the societal definition of sound mental health. There are few alternatives for both but escape. Conversely, Clarissa appears the picture of equanimity and normalcy. However, despite her freedom to live openly as a lesbian and make her own choices for her life, Clarissa is still playing the traditional roles of wife and mother. When Richard the poet seeks to define her as she truly is in his one prose outing, the language is virtually incomprehensible to most.

Ultimately, language and behavior outside of the patriarchal norms exist as "the other" in this novel no matter the time frame. The focus on objects, the peppering of life's sets with both the expected and the personal are beautiful here as the characters strive to meet societal expectations that do not always serve their intellect, heart, or sanity well. ( )

An intertwined novel that follows three people- Clarissa Vaughan, planning a party in New York, Laura Brown, confronting herself and her marriage in 1950s Los Angeles, and Virginia Woolf, just before she begins to write her novel Mrs. Dalloway. The Hours crosses and recrosses these stories until they resolve together at the end.

Beautifully written. ( )

There are three layers of narratives, and each of them is a powerful, sentimental story, told in a different time frame - first, there is Virginia Woolf's life, with her thoughts and work, tied within a psychological drama that's waiting to happen. Second, there is the life of a 1950's housewife, Laura Brown, who will change her son's future within the course of a single day's decision. Then there is the modern day Mrs Dalloway, Clarissa Vaughan, who tries to help, then to survive the loss of her poet friend.

While I enjoyed enormously the psychological tensions and the dramatic expectations, I suspect this book will mostly please female readers. Men are not presented in a favourable light, and the strong women steal the show. Virginia Woolf's husband seems inadequate in trying to guess her state of mind or her actions; Mrs Brown's husband likes nothing less than just living the routine life of a working man in the 1950s; the modern poet is unable to rise above his past, destroys his life, because of his psychological issues with his mother, and also because he has a disease he is dying from.

The two-dimensional men are in strong contrast with the women, whose complexity of thoughts and actions make them stronger than they appear. They take the important life decisions, in spite of their social restrictions, and the book is a way to praise the women's right to independence and decisions, within the course of the 20th century. This is a recommended read for those evenings when something different from the usual is needed. ( )

Engrossing ( )

From my blog: http://weelittleactress.blogspot.com

"Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself"
- Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

Recommended Tea: The Republic of Tea's Sip for the Cure Pink Grapefruit Tea with Pink Peony Petals
(a bouquet of Pink Peonies wouldn't hurt, either)

I saw the film The Hours a few years ago. I will go ahead and bravely say that it went right over my head (imagine my hand sweeping over the top of my head right now, because that's what I'm doing and that's what the movie did to me). I knew nothing about Virginia Woolf, nothing about Mrs. Dalloway, and frankly only watched it because Nicole Kidman was awarded an Oscar for it.

So, after reading Mrs. Dalloway, after growing into Virginia Woolf, hearing her calling me from the bookshelf and then from the pages of Orlando and now from trees and flowers, it was still with a little trepidation that I picked up The Hours at the local library. Was it going to be better than the movie? Was it going to injure my newfound love for Virginia? Instead of hearing Virginia speak to me, would I be picturing Nicole Kidman's prosthetic nose in my mind?

What joy, what bliss, then, to discover the beauty of Michael Cunningham's The Hours. I admit, I couldn't shake the images of Meryl Streep (even though the actual Meryl Streep appears in the book - surprise!) and Julianne Moore. But, I am happy to say, Nicole Kidman's nose took a back seat and I saw Virginia (and her own lovely nose), heard her voice, could even see through her eyes as she looked up through the beautiful and terrifying water.

For me, the beauty of this book lies in its truth. It explains so vividly what is so terrifying and similarly what is so wonderful about being a living, breathing human being. There is the beauty of the world, ecstatic errands, flowers, making cakes, throwing parties, stolen kisses. Similarly, these things can each hold their own terror. There are also the hours - all of those terrifying hours that stretch out ahead of you for who knows how long. On some days, those hours disappear into the horizon, making it almost impossible to get out of bed. On some days, that horizon seems all too close, uncomfortably close, and the terror comes from the realization that it's closer than you once dreamed.

But, that is the MOST beautiful thing about the human condition - we all experience that terror and that comfort together. We all both fear and respect death. We can all appreciate the beauty of the sunshine and the fear of the day when we will see it for the last time.

Michael Cunningham says it best himself:

There is just this for consolation: an hour here or there, when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so.

I also find it worth noting that everything that I have just said, explaining why I loved this book, explains why I loved Mrs. Dalloway. That feeling of interconnectedness is so well presented in both, which is why I think it is so important to see The Hours as a companion for Mrs. Dalloway. They are like cheese and wine or oreos and milk - they bring out the best in each other. Michael Cunningham obviously has a great love for Virginia Woolf and her work, and this is a love letter to her and to the modern readers who love her but wish that they could see her take on the world as it is now.

So, I would suggest going to your local (independent!) bookstore today, picking up a copy of Mrs. Dalloway, and keeping enough money in your wallet to buy The Hours next week.
But above all else, avoid Nicole Kidman's prosthetic nose. ( )