Virginia Woolf: The Complete Works

by Virginia Woolf

The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky,

Symbolism of fetal life or early postnatal childhood. Lack of development of the senses, primarily sight.

thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.

Waves representative of the perpetuity of time and its cyclical driving force in life. Labor/ birth?

The wave paused, and then drew out again, sighing like a sleeper whose breath comes and goes unconsciously.

Calmness of the sea representative of absence of conflict and tribulation at this early stage in life. Contractions in labor. Fetus experiencing birth

green.

Young. Inexperienced

the sky cleared

Birth, perceived presence of mother

Then she raised her lamp higher and the air seemed to become fibrous and to tear away from the green surface flickering and flaming in red and yellow fibres like the smoky fire that roars from a bonfire. Gradually the fibres of the burning bonfire were fused into one haze, one incandescence which lifted the weight of the woollen grey sky on top of it and turned it to a million atoms of soft blue.

Birth. Child is torn from the womb.

The surface of the sea slowly became transparent and lay rippling and sparkling until the dark stripes were almost rubbed out. Slowly the arm that held the lamp raised it higher and then higher until a broad flame became visible; an arc of fire burnt on the rim of the horizon, and all round it the sea blazed gold.

Child is alive. Flame representative of life.

“The birds sang in chorus first,” said Rhoda. “Now the scullery door is unbarred. Off they fly. Off they fly like a fling of seed. But one sings by the bedroom window alone.”

Recounting conception?

“I burn, I shiver,” said Jinny, “out of this sun, into this shadow.”

My body is a stalk. I press the stalk. A drop oozes from the hole at the mouth and slowly, thickly, grows larger and larger. Now something pink passes the eyehole.

There is something sexual here

Now an eye-beam is slid through the chink. Its beam strikes me. I am a boy in a grey flannel suit. She has found me. I am struck on the nape of the neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered.”

Louis is stoic and serious. Very masculine powerful energy

I smell geraniums; I smell earth mould. I dance. I ripple. I am thrown over you like a net of light. I lie quivering flung over you.”

Jinny is ditsy, freespirited and eager to please.

Though my mother still knits white socks for me and hems pinafores and I am a child, I love and I hate.”

Complex emotions are often discounted in youth Susan yearns to be regarded in the same way as others. Founded in jealousy and superficial self worth.

“Now you trail away,” said Susan, “making phrases. Now you mount like an air-ball’s string, higher and

Bernard's immaturity pulls against his intuition

higher through the layers of the leaves, out of reach. Now you lag. Now you tug at my skirts, looking back, making phrases. You have escaped me.

Bernard is capable of deep thought and connection, but is easily distracted by ancillary things. He is often discounted on the basis of his persona, but ultimatel knows more than you think

And I will now rock the brown basin from side to side so that my ships may ride the waves. Some will founder. Some will dash themselves against the cliffs. One sails alone. That is my ship. It sails into icy caverns where the sea-bear barks and stalactites swing green chains. The waves rise; their crests curl; look at the lights on the mastheads. They have scattered, they have foundered, all except my ship, which mounts the wave and sweeps before the gale and reaches the islands where the parrots chatter and the creepers …”

Rhoda is tormented by her life

And Bernard dropped his boat and went after her taking my knife, the sharp one that cuts the keel. He is like a dangling wire, a broken bell-pull, always twangling.

Neville is practical and quick to judge.

hate dangling things; I hate dampish things. I hate wandering and mixing things together. Now the bell rings and we shall be late. Now we must drop our toys. Now we must go in together. The copy-books are laid out side by side on the green baize table.”

Neville craves order and stability.