Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson

I was surprised by Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson (published 1916). I thought it would be an Our Town-esque view of life in a small town. It was very similar in its setting to Thornton Wilder’s play in that it focused on people in a small community. But Sherwood Anderson’s collection of stories was remarkably deep, conveying realistic emotions on a level beyond those explored in the comparatively basic Our Town (which I love for its perspective on family, relationships, and life; thoughts here).

In deceptively simple modernistic prose, Anderson captured the loneliness of people and the secrets all hold inside. Each story captures the intimate thoughts on worries of a different person in Winesburg, with the entire volume creating a silhouette of the small town’s makeup. Although everyone is nosy about one other in a town of less than 2,000 people, no one really knew each other at all.

How universal this seemed to be; it extends to today. We may be less nosy about our neighbors, but we certainly don’t know each other any better!Continue Reading

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (Brief Thoughts on a Reread)

Yesterday evening I returned home from my classics book club meeting very sad. We read Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, and when I last read it, I remember wishing I could read and discuss with other classics readers. My classics reading group (last year, a total of four of us) agreed to give it a try this year.

Alas, the people in my group, different people from those who gave input on this years’ books, were nothing but scathing in their thoughts of Mrs Dalloway. It was too much work, there were no chapters, nothing happened, the characters were flat and boring (!). In short, they got nothing out of it.

I can relate to that feeling. I recently read The Red Badge of Courage and felt only joy when it ended because I was not enjoying it at all. But this was particularly hard since I so enjoyed my reread.

This post contains thematic spoilers for Mrs Dalloway.

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Our Town by Thornton Wilder (Brief Thoughts + Giveaway)

Thornton Wilder’s sparse and simple play Our Town was first produced during the Great Depression (1938). In a set without any scenery beyond chairs and tables and in three short acts, Thornton Wilder creates an intimacy with the characters. This is probably due to the familiarity of the subject: life, love, and death in a small town. As an audience participant (or, in my case, a reader), I felt I became a part of the small town’s happenings, and the encouragement to enjoy the simplicity of life, the magic of love, and the reality of challenges becomes a poignant emotional journey. Continue Reading

“The Mark on the Wall” by Virginia Woolf

How readily our thoughts swarm upon a new object, lifting it a little way, as ants carry a blade of straw so feverishly, and then leave it.

Virginia Woolf’s short piece “The Mark on the Wall” captures a few moments of thought-wandering. I’ve been impressed in the past with Virginia Woolf’s ability to perfectly capture a wandering mind. This piece is a perfect example of her style, not only because it’s a short and approachable piece but because I believe we can easily relate.

Sitting by a fire one evening, the narrator’s attention is drawn to a previously unnoticed mark on the wall, and the story follows her thought process as she tries to figure out why it is there.

The narrator was familiar to me. Although her thoughts were different than mine are in similar situations, of course, the way her thoughts diverged from the question at hand was excellently captured. At the beginning, for example, she went from questioning the mark on the wall to inventing the reasons why the previous owners moved away from the residence. This immediately resonated with me because I live in the house that used to belong to the parents of Anna and Michael.

I first met Anna and Michael on the day we bought the house, when we found their names and heights marked on my son’s bedroom wall (behind the door), but I’ve found Anna’s beads in the basement, and Michael’s school photo tucked in a back corner of his mother’s bathroom drawer. I found Anna’s ice skates in the attic. They are size 7, with purple laces, and they fit me perfectly. I went ice skating a few times, even though I’m really bad, simply because I have the skates now. Besides, I find myself thinking of Anna disappointment when she can’t find them and realizes they were left behind. She’d be happy to know they are being used. I think of the younger child – Michael – asking to swing just a little longer on the swing set before having to leave it behind (they moved into the city, so I’m sure they no longer had a yard and a swing set of their own). Poor kids!

So, just as the narrator’s thoughts wandered, I found mine did to. This was just the first page of “The Mark on the Wall.” As the story progresses, the narrator doesn’t want to get out of her chair, but she goes through all the possibilities of what that mysterious mark could be. Her thoughts led from one thing to the next. She’s wants to forget the mark on the wall and get back to sitting, thinking, and enjoying the fire.

To steady myself, let me catch hold of the first idea that passes.

But of course, she can’t stop wondering about that mark. Once I think of something I need or want to do, I too can never regain the sense of peaceful solicitude. Reading “The Mark on the Wall” may drive you crazy because you just want to say, “get up and look at the mark already!” But listening to her thought rambles is the interest of this story. We can all relate because we all think, and Virginia Woolf has wonderfully captured a pattern of thought in this short work.

And if I were to get up at this very moment and ascertain that the mark on the wall is really … what should I gain?— Knowledge? Matter for further speculation? I can think sitting still as well as standing up. And what is knowledge?

That is a question for us each to ponder, sitting in front of a fire on a cold evening, or least wrapped up in a blanket (with a book, too, please?). How do you think when you’re not thinking of anything in particular?

Isn’t this quiet wonderful? The only noise is our thoughts.

Read “The Mark on the Wall” Bartleby.com

This is the first in my new series on reading about the minutia of life. Do you have a short story to suggest? (The project does not have to be short stories, but I’m more likely to have time to read it if it is a short story.)

Thanks to Emily who suggested “The Mark on the Wall” to me.