To The Lighthouse review: A gloriously ambitious and inventive production at Cork Midsummer Fest
Marina Carr s adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s modernist masterpiece combined film and theatre
Declan Conlon and Aoife Duffin in To The Lighthouse at the Everyman. Picture Darragh Kane
Sun, 27 Jun, 2021 - 21:05
Marjorie Brennan “What is the meaning of life?” asks Lily Briscoe in To The Lighthouse. It may be, as she says, a “simple question” but it is one that underpins this profound meditation on life, love, loss, the meaning of art and the role of a woman in society.
This adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s modernist masterpiece by Marina Carr is a hybrid of film and theatre, a world premiere recorded on The Everyman Stage as part of the Cork Midsummer Festival. What it lacks in immediacy in terms of a live streamed performance, it gains in terms of creative latitude, with director Annabelle Comyn bringing her distinctive and inventive vision to the production.
E J Levy: When Your First Draft is Your Best Draft
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Trying to Imagine Post-Pandemic Life? Virginia Woolf and Toni Morrison Can Help
By Michelle Orange
May 8, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ET
A lesser mystery of the pandemic: how to square the rise in total book sales (roughly 10 percent in 2020) and the number of readers (roughly all of them) who over that same period described the struggle to conquer a single paragraph, much less all, of “Middlemarch.” A year of dread, loss and social tumult has stretched at both ends the extent to which taking a new book in hand constitutes an act of hope. If the ability to immerse oneself in another world has wavered, it would appear that the will to do so endures, bound up, for now, in the piles of un- and half-read books fortifying our respective holding cells.
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I first met
Mrs. Dalloway in a class called Great Novels of the Twentieth Century. The year was 1990. I was 19. And though she had been going to get the flowers herself for 65 years, Clarissa shimmered on the page. My paperback copy had a bright yellow cover and when I think of it my mind fills with dappled sunlight and joy in spite of the novel’s streak of darkness and unease death in the middle of a party. Back home in Idaho after college I read all the Woolf I could find in the Boise Public Library, ecstatic over
Truth Tellers: Virginia Woolf, ‘I always tell the truth’
This was Woolf’s life question, her life quest, the catalyst of her genius. She struggled with it, like Jacob struggled with the angel, and she would not let go until the true and the beautiful, in one way or another, blessed her. “When I write, I always, always tell the truth,” she admonished a friend who suggested that she might do otherwise. In her letters, diaries, and fiction, the struggle never ends. Young Virginia Stephen and her older sister Vanessa. (Public Domain)
Her Diaries
Her diaries, comprising 6,873 pages in a Harcourt Brace Jovanovich edition, tell us her most intimate thoughts and feelings. These pages were not meant for our eyes, and she asked her husband to burn them after her death. They perhaps contain the farthest reaches of her mind, and some of her most beautiful phrases, as well as her candid, private views of contemporaries.
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