Jacob’s Room
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Product Description
Set in pre-war England, the novel starts in Jacob’s childhood and follows him through college at Cambridge, and then into adulthood. The tale is told mainly through the perspectives of the women in Jacob’s life, including the repressed upper-middle-class Clara Durrant and the natural young art student Florinda, with whom he has an affair. His time in London forms a large part of the tale, though towards the end of the novel he travels to Italy, then Greece. Jacob eventually dies in the war and in lieu of a description of the death scene, Woolf describes the empty room that he leaves behind. The novel is a departure from Woolf’s earlier two novels, The Voyage Out (1915) and Night and Day (1919), which are more conventional in form. The work is seen as an vital modernist text; its experimental form is viewed as a progression of the innovative writing style Woolf open in her earlier collection of fleeting fiction titled Monday or Tuesday (1919).
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i’m sorry, but i couldn’t even end this book. i bought it used only because i thought oh, virginia is so legendary! she must be wonderful! but was astonished at the lack of human thought that showed up, the lack of sense. i really had no thought of what was happening, even though i made it to pg. 100. jacob just runs on and on about sophocles, about greek philosophy–oh he’s so deep. deep enough to make you regret getting this book.
Reader’s Rating: 2 / 5
Some say that as we grow up,
we become different people at different ages.
but I don¡¯t judge this.
I reflect we remain the same throughout,
merely passing in these years from one room to another,
but permanently in the same house.
If we unlock the rooms of the far past,
We can look in and see ourselves
Beginning to become you and me.
Do you know where you were born? Yes, most probably in a room. Do you remember where you were brought up? Uh-huh, in most cases, in a room. Do you have any thought where you are going to die? Of course, most people would wish to be in a room. Dust we are, to dust we shall return (Gen. 3.19). Once dusty us get the passport of landing on this planet, the majority of our fellow planet citizens march to our another biological inevitability under the shelter of different rooms, like the snails. Fortunately, most of us will not realize this human bondage; besides, we take it for granted that freedom is something tangible like the apples in a tree. We can get it as long as we try and retry. Sorry to say, some of us are sensible enough to feel the invisible bars, so they resort to literature and presume that they could be set free in another world. Most sorry to say, they merely step from one cage to another. I am not adage the authors are evil-intentioned. Far from it. They just unconsciously lead us to a special room of their own.
Here are two examples to give the readers a vague thought what these rooms are like. Entering Dicken¡¯s room, one would be at once fascinated by the kaleidoscopic scenes in it. The tiniest turn would present the readers with a fabulous show on our life stage. Here we see pleased smiles, crying faces, regretful looks and clenching fists. No matter how dark the room might be sometimes, we would permanently see four huge letters on the walls—HOPE. Isn¡¯t that what we live on and live for?
Then, in a hopeful mood, we kindly knock open Woolf¡¯ Jacob¡¯s Room. All of a sudden, we find ourselves in the weirdest place we have ever stepped in. EMPTY. That is the impression we get at the first sight. Where is Woolf? She has disappeared from the door silently. When our eyes get used to the light in the room, we only figure out some dim stuff on the walls. ¡°Listless is the air in an empty room¡±(Woolf 37). Some people place the room at once in a rage: ¡°What is it all about!¡± Some of them linger for a while. Finally they shout exultantly: ¡° I see, I see. There IS a portrait of a gentleman on the wall. Some women surround him. Wow! What a romantic painting!!¡± Satisfied, they go out. Only a few left at this moment. They have been standing there for a long time in the same pose as if they had been frozen. Their eyes are glued on the walls and their stare conveys a shocked and frightened meaning. What do they see? A monster? An manufacturing accident? Or a turbulence? No, but more than that. They see life—AS WHAT IT IS. Where is Woolf? She is silently smiling behind the door.
What should they do? Run out of this room to another? No use. The next-door room is similar. Keep running? No way. This sort of room design is a fashion on this floor. A moment later, a name hear a terrible weep from the rooftop. A name has chosen to meet his dusty ending earlier. Is ignorance really a bliss? Should we snub what is real just because it is cruel and painful? Is that an escapist¡¯s motive? Not really. In one of Harry Potter¡¯s adventures—The Socerer¡¯s Stone, there is a magic tree. Once one falls in its tangled branches, no matter how hard he struggles, he will never be able to get out. The only way of getting rid of its hold is to—relax. If one relaxes his whole body as if nothing were around him, he will be set free at once. Persons who did not go in Jacob¡¯s room do not need to regret for what they have lost, because they might regret more if they had. Persons who went but saw nothing special are lucky, because they have spared themselves a later sting. As for persons who did see what Woolf proposed to show, frankly language, they have fallen into persons messy branches then and there. To relax or not to relax? That is the question. Relaxation seems impossible and ridiculous at such a confusing, painful and struggling moment. How can we possible forget what we have seen and felt? But, the harder we fight with the branches, the quicker we will sink. Therefore, better stop thinking further before being devoured. The human bondage is merely invisible. If we spare the distress of reminding ourselves of its being 365 times a year, we will be as pleased as one could possible be. Down with persons rooms! After all, there is only one room we wish to guard and cherish with our life—the chamber of our hearts.
Where is Woolf now? She has gone back to a room or her own, leaving us a room with a view.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
thanks a lot “reader from soweto” for telling everyone that the character dies in the end. your supposed to help us, not ruin it for us?
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
I want to prompt my gratitude to “a reader from us” and “a reader from Soweto.” You both succesfully ruined the book for my entire class. I had to change my lesson plans because of your insensitivity. Much thanks!
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
It is a truly marvellous novel and I really cried illustriously oh my heart out when Jacob died. The imagery use of Bennet can obviously be seen as place to use in this novel in which instance it contradicts her essay modern fiction in a fantastic way. The parts that were not written in a drug induced state were really enjoyable…as for the character of Jacob which had me profusely confused she succeeded in confusing me even more with the lack of subjective titles aS to guide me as the reader in to the tale’s understanding uninterpretable chaotic surealism and shlock.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5