A Refusal to Conform: An exploration of how Virginia Woolfs work challenges the assumptions of a generalised Modernism, taking Mrs.

Dalloway as an example.

The influential Marxist critic Georg Lukcs is arguably best known for his polemical censure of literary Modernism. In his seminal work The Ideology of Modernism (1957), Lukcs delineated his reservations about the practices of modernist writers. From Lukcss perspective, the ideologies that is, the bodies of beliefs and ideals of these writers had an untoward effect upon literature. Given how writers lines of thought tend to determine their approach to writing, it follows that the epistemological positions of these modernists shaped the form of their work. The ensuing formal innovations of literary Modernism are what Lukcs so regretted, for they led to the destruction of literature as such (Ideology, 45). Furthermore, the modernists were turning form into something absolute (Lukcs, Ideology, 18), by means of their exaggerated concern with questions of style and literary technique (Lukcs, Ideology, 17). Lukcs favoured the more traditional aesthetic of nineteenth-century realism - for its objective details, documentation of material fact, avoidance of poetic diction and understanding of social and historical dynamics - to the originality of Modernism. While Lukcs never wrote specifically about Virginia Woolf, he criticised modernist writers as a group. Woolf considered herself to be one of the moderns, and was, in many ways, an exemplar of High Modernism (Whitworth, 147). Therefore, Woolf, and her work, can be examined in the light of Lukcss literary theory. From Mrs. Dalloway (1925), which is arguably Woolfs first mature novel and is typical of her experimental style, it is clear that Woolfs work avoids many of the Lukcs-identified failings of Modernism. Even though Woolf explored the same problems as her contemporaries, she diverge[d] from them in many

respects (Whitworth, 147); it is for this reason, more than for the limitations of his theory, that Woolfs work is not subject to most of Lukcss general criticisms of modernist literature.

In Great Britain, Modernism spanned the period from circa 1890 to the start of the Second World War. This was a time of great change in the world, not solely on account of the divisive World War I. The age of Modernism also witnessed technological innovations, increasing autonomy for women (resulting from the success of the suffragette movement), and political adjustments (as the Labour party gained power) in England. The social effect of this upheaval is represented in Mrs. Dalloway. Peter Walsh notes an alteration in human conduct; people now do things, such as carry on quite openly with members of the opposite sex, that they certainly would not have done ten years ago (Woolf, Dalloway, 80). Similarly, Clarissa Dalloways cook, in 1923, whistle[s] in the kitchen (33). A Victorian cook, by contrast, lived like a leviathan in the lower depths, formidable, silent, obscure, [and] inscrutable (Woolf, Bennett, 396). In Mrs. Dalloway, Woolf also highlights a recent shift in human relations by mentioning the concord existing between Clarissa and Lucy that is, between mistress and maid (34). Modernism further saw many intellectual developments. The scientific discoveries of Ernest Rutherford and Albert Einstein, in addition to the ideas of Sigmund Freud, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Henri Bergson, for example, revolutionised peoples knowledge of the universe and themselves. Woolf recognised this variation in human understanding, for she declared that her generation knew of facts and possibilities of which their parents were ignorant (cited in Hussey, 169). The considerable advancements in knowledge brought about a modification in the focus of writers. From the 1880s, philosophers

and psychologists [popularised] an introspective approach to the analysis of [the individual] life (Parsons 55). For modernists, the point of interest consequently lay in the dark places of psychology (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 152). Given how writers epistemological standpoints tend to determine the narrative approach they take, it is consistent with this new concern with human identity that modernist novels are typically organised around, and explore, centres of consciousness, rather than plot events. A corollary of the modern emphasis upon something [that is, the human mind] hitherto ignored was that a different outline of form [became] necessary (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 152); these formal innovations, and the making of them ends in themselves, greatly bothered Lukcs. Lukcs cited James Joyce as just one modernist who allowed his work to be informed and governed by an aesthetic aspiration (Ideology, 18). However, while Woolf shared Joyces curiosity about the psyche, and questioned how this could best be rendered in fiction, she was not similarly guilty of striving towards some artistic goal. Woolf denied that Mrs. Dalloway was the deliberate offspring of a method (Dalloway Reader, 11). When being as honest as she could about the mysterious processes of [her] mind, Woolf claimed that the progression of Mrs. Dalloway was an organic one: [T]he book grew day by day, week by week, without any plan at all, or in any conscious direction (Dalloway Reader, 11-2). Even though Woolf conceded that the original design of Mrs. Dalloway interested her hugely (Dalloway Reader, 94), she ultimately believed it a mistake to stand outside examining methods (Modern Fiction, 152). What is paramount is the effect of the book as a whole on [the readers] mind (Woolf, Dalloway Reader, 12).

Woolf did experiment with literary form, but not for the sake of novelty. To Woolf, style was a technical device, which could help her express that which she wanted: character, in all its complexity, and the fullness of human experience. In contrast to the nineteenth-century writers, who presented characters as they typically were, Woolf sought to portray characters as individuals. Woolf recognised that people have depths and sides, and so did not want to compartmentalise them in her fiction. Indeed, as with Clarissa, Woolf would not say of any one in the world now that they were this or were that (Dalloway, 10, sic). The stream-of-consciousness form Woolf developed was highly useful to her, for it facilitated her in delving deeper into the souls of her characters. With this form, Woolf allowed her readers to see her characters experiences from within and so gain a more fluid and changeable sense of who they are (Briggs, 132). Woolfs desire to directly reveal the thoughts of her characters derived from the modern consensus that showing is superior to telling. As Woolf said of the work of an Edwardian predecessor, [o]ne line of insight would have done more than all those lines of description (Hussey, 169). The linear sentences of the past were also unable to convey the complex multiplicities of mental events that Woolf sought to express, because people dont and never did think or feel in that way (quoted in Lodge, 27). Instead, the human mind receives a myriad of impressions, and these come from all sides, [as] an incessant shower of innumerable atoms (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 150). Woolf wanted to deliver such randomness immediately, by recording the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall, rather than as later conceptualised (Modern Fiction, 150).

Considering Woolfs desire to candidly represent character, rather than preach doctrines, it was necessary for her to dispense with the tradition of the omniscient

narrator. On this matter, Woolf was influenced by T.S. Eliot, who told her that explanation is unnecessary, and if you put it in, you dilute the facts (quoted in Dalloway Reader, 89). Woolf herself supposed that it is the task of the novelist to convey this varying, this unknown and uncircumscribed spirit with as little mixture of the alien and external as possible (Modern Fiction, 150). The limitations of Clarissa, for example, as a narrator are emphasised by the questions that disrupt her interior monologue. Clarissas hesitations her doubting words such as might, and her pausing to wonder how many years now? (Woolf, Dalloway, 6), for instance are appropriate given the degree of uncertainty in the world post World War I. As Deborah Parsons (68) writes, the war brought with it the loss of values and beliefs that had underpinned previous assumptions about a permanent and universal structure to life. However, even though there is no omniscient narrator giving perspective, explaining, and guaranteeing, in Mrs. Dalloway, the novel is not a wholly subjective one. By passing the touch of consciousness between her characters, Woolf presented them as they seem to others, in addition to how they actually are. For example, the reader is made privy to the tortured mental wanderings of Septimus Warren Smith and is also informed of how queer he seemed to Maisie Johnson (Woolf, Dalloway, 30). By grounding the thoughts of her characters, Woolf further avoided Lukcss criticism that modernist writers engaged excessively with the subjective consciousness in their work; Clarissas thoughts, for example, are interrupted by outer events such as policemen holding up their hands (Woolf, Dalloway, 12).

The subjectivity Lukcs perceived to be inherent in modernist literature could even extend to the representation of time. Lukcs argued that this temporal subjectivity shows how deeply subjectivism is rooted in the experience of the modern bourgeois

intellectual (Ideology, 38). As with other modernist writers, Woolf did experiment with time, and its depiction, in her work. In Woolfs fiction, time is not entirely subjective, though. Whether directly or indirectly - Leonard Woolf doubted if she had actually read Bergsons work or attended his lectures (Whitworth 147) - Woolf was influenced by Bergsons doctrine on duration. In addition to the outward measured time (temps) there is also time as experienced in the consciousness (duree). The latter is continuous and heterogeneous, for it is not divisible into past, present and future segments. In Mrs. Dalloway, the past and the present are intermingled. On account of the flexibility of the stream-of-consciousness mode, Woolfs characters are neither temporally nor spatially restricted. In her mind, Clarissa can plunge into the air at Bourton whilst simultaneously walking through London over thirty years later. Woolf, however, anchors Clarissas duree with references to temps. Clarissas thoughts bring her back to that summer in Bourton, but the chimes of Big Ben return her to the present moment. These chimes also imbue Mrs. Dalloway with the pace that Lukcs noted was often absent from modernist novels (Ideology, 18).

On account of her inclusion of outward events in Mrs. Dalloway, Woolf did not attenuate actuality, as Lukcs said modernists were prone to do (Ideology, 25). Lukcs considered modernist literature to be anti-realist and thus in opposition to nineteenth-century realism, which aimed at a truthful reflection of reality (Ideology, 23). Yet, as Deborah Parsons (53) argues, the pioneering modernist writers, such as Woolf and Joyce, did not actually deny reality. Different ideas regarding the nature of reality, and how these can best be portrayed in fiction, are ultimately what distinguish Modernism from nineteenth-century realism. The modernists did not feel a concentration on the external aspects of life [could convey]

the fullness of human experience (Parsons 53). With such a focus on the external elements of life, the subjective essence of self is lost in a mass of objective detail. The modernists similarly doubted the presentation of a characters thoughts and emotions by an all-seeing omniscient narrator could offer a representation of modern life that was at all realistic (Parsons 53). Since the modernists recognised that they only had access to their own subjective experience, they did not assume that their personal sensory impressions held true for other people. Therefore, this experience was all the modernist writers considered themselves to be equipped to faithfully represent in literature; by directing their attention to the inner reality, they did not deny the outer one. Indeed, as Suzette Henke (quoted in Hussey 162) states, Woolf actually raise[d] a clarion call to a new aesthetics of psychological realism.

Lukcs further noted that modernist novels, on account of their subjective narratives and absence of omniscient guiding-voices, generally lead nowhere (Ideology, 29). This lack of direction is arguably another consequence of the modernists desire to approximate reality. Woolf, for one, believed that [l]ife is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged, as the logically articulated sentences and plots of the past seem to suggest (Modern Fiction, 150). Indeed, life the essential thing - escapes when novelists are held in thrall by some powerful and unscrupulous tyrant to provide a plot (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 149). It is consistent with Woolfs modern understanding of reality that, in her novels, climaxes are pushed to the margins. When writers have the courage to break free from these past conventions, and write with their own feelings instead, there is no plot, no comedy, no tragedy, no love interest or catastrophe in the accepted style (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 150). As the character Lily Briscoe (quoted in Lodge, 25), in Woolfs novel To the Lighthouse, phrases it

The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there [are] little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark. Given how no omniscient voice highlights such daily treasures in Woolfs novels, these novels are liable to Lukcss criticism that there is no hierarchy of significance in modernist fiction (Ideology, 33). Woolf deliberately excluded, what Lukcs termed, the selective principle from her work (Ideology, 33). For Woolf did not take it for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small (Modern Fiction, 150). By neglecting such commonly thought small details in their work, Woolf felt that her literary predecessors ignored many vital aspects of life. Indeed, Woolf believed that no fact is too little to let it slip through ones fingers (Montaigne, 66). It was by examining an ordinary mind on an ordinary day (Modern Fiction, 149) that Woolf could best approximate life in its entirety - in its confusion, mystery and uncertainty. As far as Woolf was concerned, the artificial structures of Victorian fiction, with its focus on highly charged moments, threatened to devalue daily experience (Briggs, 130-2). It follows that every moment of the day to which Woolf draws her readers attention in Mrs. Dalloway arrives with equal significance. As Deborah Eisenberg (179) notes Each thing that is thought, each thing that is done is no more or less part of the composition of the day, just as no number, whether it is a big number or a small number, functions differently from any other.

According to Lukcs, the attempts of modernist writers to convey the richness of life and individual experience, by means of the stream-of-consciousness mode, resulted in an exaggerated recording of sense-data and a consequent neglect of ideas

(Ideology, 18). Woolf, however, worried that she was trying to fit too many ideas into Mrs. Dalloway (Dalloway Reader, 93). This novel as a whole addresses topics such as life, death, sanity, insanity, love, sex, marriage, friendship, politics, class, medicine (or, at least, the medical lack-of-understanding of mental illness), and gender. In Mrs. Dalloway, Woolf also sought to criticise the social system, & to show it at work, at its most intense (Dalloway Reader, 93, sic). These issues and criticisms can easily be missed, though, for they are delivered without the comment of an omniscient narrator. The individual characters in Mrs. Dalloway also have theories. Mrs. Dempster thinks the key to happiness is to be a little moderate in ones expectations (Woolf, Dalloway, 31). William Bradshaw believes one can obtain happiness by means of a sense of proportion, family affection; honour; courage; and a brilliant career (Woolf, Dalloway, 113). Clarissa has developed a kind of atheists religion, or Platonic conception of morality, of doing good [just] for the sake of goodness (Woolf, Dalloway, 87). Woolfs characters additionally question the nature of their own existence and the purpose of life; Peter, for one, wonders [w]hat is it?, [a]nd why does one do it? (Woolf, Dalloway, 58). Peter echoes Woolfs opinion that life is the essential thing (Modern Fiction, 149) when he says that life in itself, every moment of it, every drop of it, here, this instant, now [is] enough (Woolf, Dalloway, 88). To be fully appreciated, Woolf thought, life needed to be held up against its opposite: death. With an awareness of their own mortality, of the possibility of the life they love being taken away, Woolfs characters, as Clarissa says, can never to be content quite, or quite secure (Dalloway, 15). Woolf, then, was not fascinated by morbidity, as Lukcs criticised modernist writers for being (Ideology, 28). In the way that Woolf employed death to complement life, so too did she invoke insanity to complement sanity. Thus, by electing to show the world from

Septimuss perspective, Woolf was not merely obsessed with the pathological, like some of her contemporaries (Lukcs, Ideology, 30).

An additional characteristic of modernist literature, which Lukcs identified, is a lack of unity [in] the world it describe[s] (Ideology, 39). This distortion, Lukcs felt, is another corollary of the subjectivity of modernist novels, which have no omniscient voice organising them into something conclusive. Lukcss want for dialectical unity can be attributed to a Hegelian strand in his philosophy. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel endeavoured to close the gap left by Kantian dualism that is, to bridge the gulf between the separate entities of spirit and matter. Hegel also sought to make whole the Kantian world, which was composed of isolated and unrelated substances. According to Lukcs, modernist writers, by deliberately introduce[ing] elements of disintegration into their work (Ideology, 39), undid the efforts of Hegel and their literary predecessors, who responded to the totality of life. As with her contemporaries, Woolf considered the superficial world to be a fragmented place, full of haphazard sensations and random revelations (Eagleton, 311). Woolf, however, also perceived, behind this [superficial] cotton wool, a pattern [with which] all human beings are connected (quoted in Dowling 42). Woolfs discernment of this pattern, of humans being part of the whole, led to the many connecting devices in Mrs. Dalloway. The shared events - such as the car backfiring on Bond Street and the aeroplane, at which [e]very one looked up (Woolf, Dalloway, 23, sic) - effectively link the characters. There is often a connection between individual characters too. Clarissa and Peter, for example, have a queer power of communicating without words (Woolf, Dalloway, 67). The further idea of characters being interdependent is epitomised by William Bradshaws observation

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that [n]obody lives for himself alone (Woolf, Dalloway, 108). That Septimuss own insanity renders his wife, Lucrezia, distressed, emphasises the effect people have on others. There are, moreover, many images of merging in Mrs. Dalloway. Clarissa views her party as being about combining and creating (Woolf, Dalloway, 135). This party draws people, including many from that summer at Bourton, together. Even Septimus is in attendance too, in a way. When the Bradshaws talk of Septimuss suicide they bring him and death itself to the middle of [Clarissas] party (Woolf, Dalloway, 201). Therefore, as Peter says, the myriads of things are ultimately merged in one thing (Woolf, Dalloway, 64). Woolf, rather than disregarding unity, simply perceived and contrived it in a different way to her literary predecessors.

As a Marxist, Lukcs believed in the significance of ones social context. Lukcss Aristotelian idea that man is a social animal is partly why he valued highly the bourgeois traditional fictional realism, for it recognised such social dynamics (Drabble, 616). Lukcs felt that modernist literature, with its subjective narratives, disconnected individuals from their social environment by focusing on their solitariness (Ideology, 19). Moreover, modernist literature tends to present such solitariness as the human condition (condition humaine) rather than as a social fate (Lukcs, Ideology, 20). Woolf, however, was very aware of the impact society has on individuals. Consequently, Woolfs characters in Mrs. Dalloway respond to, and interact with, society and each other. When Peter - who always makes Clarissa feel frivolous; empty-minded; a mere silly chatterbox (Woolf, Dalloway, 49) once called Clarissa [t]he perfect hostess, she winced all over (Woolf, Dalloway, 69). Septimus too produces a reaction in others, for he even makes complete strangers apprehensive (Woolf, Dalloway, 17). The aforementioned shared-events, of the car

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backfiring and the aeroplane writing a message in the sky, advance the impression of the characters all responding to a public world. That the characters in Mrs. Dalloway respond to the same, public world in London helps Woolf avoid Lukcss criticism that modernist writers generally used locus as a backcloth that is, as a decorative device (Ideology, 21). For modernist writers, the locus of their novels was not always basic to their artistic intention (Lukcs, Ideology, 21). Woolfs love for and knowledge of London are not the only reasons why she chose to set Mrs. Dalloway in this city. London the seat of the British government and therefore an emblem of it - helped Woolf to realise her previously mentioned desire to criticise the social system, & to show it at work (Dalloway Reader, 93, sic). Indeed, the location of London is vital to Mrs. Dalloway, for it contains the landmarks Woolf employs to symbolise her motifs: Westminster Palace (the government), Buckingham Palace (royalty), Big Ben (shared time), and Westminster Cathedral (God and religion), say. Woolf further deviated from her contemporaries in her treatment of locus. Typically for a modernist writer, Woolf was interested in urban settings. Woolf, however, portrayed the metropolis in a different fashion to other modernists. In The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, for example, the city Eliot depicts is dominated by fog, soot, and smoke. This city is also a place of sordidness and promiscuity, as is suggested by the details of oyster-shells (line 7), with oysters being recognised aphrodisiacs, and one-night cheap hotels (6). In Mrs. Dalloway, by contrast, Woolf celebrates city life. The beauty of the June day, with which Woolfs characters engage, exists not in spite of, but emerges from, the energy and motion in London.

In addition to stressing the role of social dynamics in shaping individual lives, Lukcs perceived the determining influence of history, which, he felt, modernist writers

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negated. Woolf, however, neither divorced her characters from the pre-existent reality beyond [themselves] nor denied them a personal history (Lukcs, Ideology, 21). Throughout the day during which Mrs. Dalloway takes place, the characters thoughts frequently return to the past. For example, potent memories of a summer at Bourton still occupy the mind of Clarissa over thirty years later. Not only does Clarissa remember how she felt that summer, in addition to what occurred, she is also aware of how the decisions she made then have influenced the course of the rest of her life. By choosing to marry Richard Dalloway over Peter, Clarissa sacrificed passion for stability and social status. Richard does love Clarissa, but not in the same bright and burning way as Peter. Moreover, when Richard thinks it is a very odd thing how much Clarissa mind[s] about her parties (Woolf, Dalloway, 132), it is clear that he is too devoid of imagination to even understand his wife or empathise with her naturally creative soul. Millicent Bruton is also very conscious of the past. Millicent is as proud of her family heritage as Richard is impressed by it; he mean[s] to write a history of [her] family someday (Woolf, Dalloway, 122). In addition to there being personal pasts in Mrs. Dalloway there is also a more public history. Historically-specific events, such as World War I and the womens-rights movement, are mentioned in this novel. Moreover, Buckingham Palace represents hereditary rule, and could therefore be construed as a symbol of tradition and continuity. As well as being conscious of the past, Woolfs characters are also aware of a future world that, as Clarissa muses, must go on without [them] (Dalloway, 11). It was the present this, here, now, in front of her (Clarissa in Woolf, Dalloway, 11) - that most interested Woolf, however. That what Clarissa loved was life; London; this moment of June (Woolf, Dalloway, 6, my emphasis) is telling of Woolfs concern. Woolf did not require the scope of a life or a voyage to express that which she

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wished; an isolated moment was sufficient for her. As Michael Cunningham (137) says, Woolf had a conviction that, in addition to being copiously contained in foreign wars and the death of kings, and other big subjects for big novels the whole of human existence [is] contained in every hour in the life of everybody, very much the way the blueprint for the whole organism is contained in every strand of its DNA. If you look with sufficient penetration, and sufficient art, at any hour in the life of anybody, you can crack it open. And get everything.

Even though Woolf was a modern, she remained at a critical distance from her contemporaries. Woolfs work consequently avoids much of Lukacss censure of modernist literature. While Woolf did not entirely share the aesthetic preferences and strategies of her fellow modernists, she commended them for attempt[ing] to come closer to life and to preserve more sincerely and exactly what interest[ed] and move[d] them (Modern Fiction, 150). In so doing, modernist writers discard[ed] most of the conventions which [were] commonly observed by the novelist (Woolf, Modern Fiction, 150). Woolf felt that such a departure from traditional standards was necessary in order to accommodate the changes in the world and to better approximate reality. Lukcs, by contrast, thought this destruction of traditional literary forms effectively destroyed literature itself (Ideology, 45). While Woolf did recognise the failings of her contemporaries whose work was sometimes marked more by the destruction of obsolete conventions than the particular success of its experimentation with new forms and methods (quoted in Parsons, 69) she nevertheless respected them for endeavouring to develop a new, more pertinent literary form. Even with such flaws, modernist literature has an endearing quality

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and a similar hold on us as the present moment, about which there is something we would not exchange (Woolf, Contemporary, 236). From Woolfs perspective, the new subject of modernist literature that is, human consciousness - was also entirely defensible. As opposed to Lukcs, Woolf considered, everything, save for falsity and pretence, to be the proper stuff of fiction (Modern Fiction, 154).

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Bibliography
Primary:
Lukcs, Georg. The Ideology of Modernism. The Meaning of Contemporary Realism. Trans. John and Necke Mander. Monmouth: The Merlin Press, 2006. p.1746. Woolf, Virginia. Mrs. Dalloway. London: Penguin Books, 1996.

Secondary:
Briggs, Julia. Virginia Woolf: An Inner Life. London: Penguin Books, 2006. Cunningham, Michael. First Love. Woolf. The Mrs. Dalloway Reader. p.136-7. Dowling, David. Mrs Dalloway: Mapping Streams of Consciousness. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1991. Drabble, Margaret (Ed.). The Oxford Companion to English Literature. Sixth edition. Oxford: Oxford U P, 2000. Eagleton, Terry. The English Novel: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2005. Eliot, T.S. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. The Complete Poems and Plays. London: Faber and Faber, 1969. p.13-7. Eisenberg, Deborah. On Mrs. Dalloway. Woolf. The Mrs. Dalloway Reader. p.17682. Honderich, Ted (Ed.). The Oxford Companion to Philosophy. Second Edition. Oxford: Oxford U P, 2005. Hussey, Mark. Virginia Woolf A to Z. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1995. Lodge, David. Virginia Woolf. Mrs. Dalloway and To The Lighthouse. New Casebooks. Ed. Su Reid. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1993. p.23-32. Lukcs, Georg. Realism in the Balance. Modernism: An Anthology of Sources and Documents. Eds. Vassiliki Kolocotroni, Jane Goldman and Olga Taxidou. Chicago: The U of Chicago P, 1998. p.584-90. Parsons, Deborah. Theorists of the Modern Novel. London: Routledge, 2007. Whitworth, Michael. Virginia Woolf and Modernism. The Cambridge Companion to Virginia Woolf. Eds. Sue Roe and Susan Sellers. Cambridge: Cambridge U P, 2000. p.146-63.

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Woolf, Virginia. How it Strikes A Contemporary. The Common Reader: Volume 1. Ed. Andrew McNeillie. London: Vintage, 2003. p.231-41. Modern Fiction. The Common Reader: Volume 1. Ed. Andrew McNeillie. London: Vintage, 2003. p.146-54. Montaigne. The Common Reader: Volume 1. Ed. Andrew McNeillie. London: Vintage, 2003. p. 58-68. Mr. Bennett and Mrs. Brown. Modernism: An Anthology of Sources and Documents. Eds. Kolocotroni, Vassiliki, Goldman, Jane, and Taxidou, Olga. Chicago: The U of Chicago P, 1998. p. 395-7. The Mrs. Dalloway Reader. Ed. Francine Prose. London: Harcourt Inc., 2004.

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