This novel is considered a masterpiece by many. I can see why: beauty of the prose, the gentle meandering narrative, and the characters are familiar in their everyday life. Though I usually enjoy the literature from this period, with its stream-of-consciousness style, I was slightly frustrated throughout. I felt as if something important was going on, but I could not figure it out. When I finished, I wondered if perhaps it was a book about nothing. A mere literary exercise. While there is some of that (I believe Woolf spent a lot of time constructing sentences), what To the Lighthouse requires is, I think, time and study. This is not a novel to breeze through, or to take in bits it pieces. In fact, I suspect those who hold it in high esteem are those who have read it more than once, examined part of it in detail, and explored it from a number of perspectives. I have not done so—yet.
As I wrote above, I was left with the impression that it was an important book, at least in literary terms, and that the problem was with the nature of the work and my lack of time spent. If you prefer books that move you or entertain you without a lot of work on your part, then this is probably not the book for you. But it if you enjoy literature that requires more of a time effort, or you simply feel you need to be acquainted with it (as I did), have a go.
