Audiobook of the week: To the Lighthouse, by Virginia Woolf, read by Juliet Stevenson

Reviewed,Sue Gaisford
Sunday 03 August 2008 00:00 BST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

In summer in the Hebrides, the slanting rays of the setting sun light up the attic bedrooms of a big old house on Skye, revealing "bats, flannels, straw hats, inkpots, paint pots, beetles and the skulls of small birds". The house gathers and enfolds numerous members of the Ramsay family and their heterogeneous entourage.

Written in 1927 when she was 45, To The Lighthouse may well be Virginia Woolf's greatest novel, though its style has deterred many a resolute reader. The writing is intensely musical, with the classic three-movement structure of a symphony. In the first a family holiday is disturbed by premonitions; 10 years later, two women briskly set about rescuing the house from disintegration. Finally, battered remnants of the old group arrive for a last holiday and the youngest son achieves his original, now redundant ambition, and sets out in a boat with his father and sister, to visit the lighthouse.

Juliet Stevenson lifts Woolf's prose to another plane. Her voice itself is lovely, low and resonant. Though she never overdoes it, she gives each character a distinct identity and measured consideration: the listener's sympathies move from one to another, quietly and utterly absorbed. The book, which was already fine, becomes exquisite: a wise and melancholy work of mesmerising eloquence.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in