This is the third time I’ve read this. I read it first in high school in my teens and HATED it. #obvi
I then read it in my early twenties in an intro to LGBT Literature course and tolerated it. The discussion was the most fascinating part and had a lot more to do with Woolf and her life than the novel itself, although there are plenty of scribbles I have in my copy about the story.
And now in my mid-30s, I won’t say I love it, but I definitely have a new appreciation for Woolf’s mastery of the craft as I re-read it. Some of the notes I scribbled reading it in undergrad definitely helped draw my attention to things and I picked up on a few more that I missed. And this is noting that my timing to read it was 100% wrong. This is NOT a pool book, I definitely fell asleep and got a slight sunburn because it’s a slow-paced dense book.
This has been on my Kindle since February 2013 and really it should’ve stayed there. UGH.
I forgot how beautiful this novel is. That’s not surprising considering it’s been over a decade since I read it and I’m honestly not sure if this is my original copy or if I picked up a new one in the past few years. [Can now confirm this is my original – I brought it to Boston in 
I clearly was not in a hurry to read this one. It has been on my Kindle since I purchased it in December of 2011 and that was TWO years after it won the Booker Prize! I avoided it for some time because I was waiting for the remaining two books: Bring Up the Bodies (2012) and The Mirror and the Light (2020), but I also avoided it because it’s a freakin’ tome. It comes it at just under 560 pages.* Thankfully the next one is shorter (436), but the last is 200 pages more coming in at 764 pages! OOF that is going to be a commitment when I get around to it.
Well if I wasn’t already so jaded from having lived through the last nine months of the COVID-19 pandemic, I’d be terrified mosquitos were coming to exterminate all of us!