By Special Cable to The New York Times
“LONDON, April 2,1941–Mrs. Virginia Woolf, novelist and essayist, who has been missing from her home since last Friday, is believed to have been drowned .Mr. Woolf said tonight:”Mrs. Woolf is presumed to be dead. She went for a walk last Friday, leaving a letter behind, and it is thought she has been drowned. Her body, however, has not been recovered.”The circumstances surrounding the novelist’s disappearance were not revealed. The authorities at Lewes said they had no report of Mrs. Woolf’s supposed death.It was reported her hat and cane had been found on the bank of the Ouse River. Mrs. Woolf had been ill for some time.
LONDON, April 19,1941 — Dr. E. F. Hoare, Coroner at New Haven, Sussex, gave a verdict of suicide today in the drowning of Virginia Woolf, novelist who had been bombed from her home twice. Her body was recovered last night from the River Ouse near her week-end house at Lewes.The Coroner read a note that Mrs. Woolf had left for her husband, Leonard.”I have a feeling I shall go mad,” the note read. “I cannot go on any longer in these terrible times. I hear voices and cannot concentrate on my work. I have fought against it but cannot fight any longer. I owe all my happiness to you but cannot go on and spoil your life.”
She was overcome by an illusory lassitude,intoxicated with a dazzle of rhapsodic chants and retired to bed,wasn’t she?Little do we merely know,if Mrs. Woolf had lost her path.What is a straight path anyway?Is it the path were redemption is lying?
Was she an observer,or was her work more of an autobiography,a hollow void inside her soul,that was filled with meticulous,surrealistic,symbolistic portrayals of succulent personas dipped in hypocrisy.Was she really a lunatic that committed a suicide because of «the voices»,or a plethora of somnolent explanations is under the peel of that dulcet,raw orange,sitting onto that old,sapphire bowl of fruits,rancid and rotten.
On the verge of becoming an independent woman,having no fierce of the opposite sex,a knell-devoured voice,sans bilge,Virginia was living in a Marxist utopia,a state-of-dreaming ,even though she was a feministic icon and beyond.Her mind was agile,her horizons broadened and her spirit fragile,but elegant and boisterous.She had that lack of soporific effect in her sophistry and was an undertoned cynic.Her emotions were beyond universe,a different dimension. She was an inspiration who created superb novels,that were more of riddles.Some of her greatest works are;A Room of One’s Own,Jackob’s Room, To the Lighthouse, Orlando,The Waves, Between the Acts and Mrs. Dalloway.Looking out of the box,now ask ourselves why such a woman of innovation ,that even Edward Albee(a famous playwright)was inspired by her and titled one of his famous plays by her name;«Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf» and when he was interviewed by Paris Review he said, “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf mean who’s afraid of the big bad wolf…who’s afraid of living without false illusions”,actually joined the «imitation game»,how come? Was her character,her state,her «tabula rasa» that evanescent at the end?
The thing that is truly sure is that behind every family frame of a great marriage lies someone,blined in that love of the allegro,and then is the other.After all of this immense contribution of her in the world of literature,did she really crack because of love?Was her quoted phrase «If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.»,out of the question?What if her truth was an interaction between fake?Underneath the horrid masks of an aesthetically pleasing society,full of blatant lies,there is still a society struggling to reach the «Belle rêve»,but is characterized unpardonable instead.Fashion industry,is attempting to climb that social ladder many a day by innovative methods,squeezing their creativity,reaching the highest zenith to become the vogue.And the looking glass does not shatter.Thus,a harmonic scream rents the air,a light breeze stirs their mind,shouting the way they want to live,their lifestyle,like the latinian noun «modus».The state of illusioning is a part of humanity,it creates and is created by humans,a de facto situation.
Generally,Virginia was a human being,sophisticated ,motivate,but still imbued with many feelings,that were tainted at last.Behind her aura,peeling the cover she was more of gold,not gilt,a true person that was underrated,betrayed and labeled by her own upper peers,neither a Goddess nor Venus,who ate too much ambrosia.
Author of the article: Michael Lazarides
Bibliography:
The Paris Review, Edward Albee, The Art of Theater No. 4.- Interviewed by William Flanagan
Web sources:Goodreads.com, Virginia Woolf Quotes.
https://theartstack.com/artist/vanessa-bell/apples-46-gordon-square
https://theartstack.com/artist/rene-magritte/decalcomania-1966
