Cover of Common Reader

Common Reader

by Unknown Author

288 pages2023HarperCollins Publishers LimitedISBN 9780008620011

About this book

<p>HarperCollins is proud to present its incredible range of best-loved, essential classics.</p><br/> <p><br/> <strong>'A good essay must have this permanent quality about it; it must draw its curtain round us, but it must be a curtain that shuts us in not out'</strong><br/> </p><br/> <p>In the first volume of her critical essays, Virginia Woolf discusses the greatest authors of the literary canon – Jane Austen, George Eliot and Geoffrey Chaucer among others – with the everyday, 'common reader' in mind. With wit and insight, Woolf also revisits classic novels and examines scholarly subjects, from the Greek language to the Modern Essay, to the Brontë's Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights.</p><br/> <p>First published in 1925, The Common Reader is a stunning work from one of the most perceptive minds of the twentieth century, a collection which continues to nurture the joys of literature and reading to this day.</p>

Publication Details

Publisher
HarperCollins Publishers Limited
Published
2023
Pages
288
ISBN
9780008620011
Language
eng

About Unknown Author

Virginia Woolf was an English novelist, essayist, diarist, epistler, publisher, feminist, and writer of short stories, regarded as one of the foremost modernist literary figures of the twentieth century. ([Source][1].) [Comment from Ursula Le Guin on The Guardian][2]: > You can't write science fiction well if you haven't read it, though not all who try to write it know this. But nor can you write it well if you haven't read anything else. Genre is a rich dialect, in which you can say certain things in a particularly satisfying way, but if it gives up connection with the general literary language it becomes a jargon, meaningful only to an ingroup. Useful models may be found quite outside the genre. I learned a lot from reading the ever-subversive Virginia Woolf. > I was 17 when I read [Orlando][3]. It was half-revelation, half-confusion to me at that age, but one thing was clear: that she imagined a society vastly different from our own, an exotic world, and brought it dramatically alive. I'm thinking of the Elizabethan scenes, the winter when the Thames froze over. Reading, I was there, saw the bonfires blazing in the ice, felt the marvellous strangeness of that moment 500 years ago – the authentic thrill of being taken absolutely elsewhere. > How did she do it? By precise, specific descriptive details, not heaped up and not explained: a vivid, telling imagery, highly selected, encouraging the reader's imagination to fill out the picture and see it luminous, complete. > In [Flush][4], Woolf gets inside a dog's mind, that is, a non-human brain, an alien mentality – very science-fictional if you look at it that way. Again what I learned was the power of accurate, vivid, highly selected detail. I imagine Woolf looking down at the dog asleep beside the ratty armchair she wrote in and thinking what are your dreams? and listening . . . sniffing the wind . . . after the rabbit, out on the hills, in the dog's timeless world. > Useful stuff, for those who

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