Unfortunately it's been awhile since I read this (I am real far behind on reviews) which means I can't remember a lot of the book. On the other hand, that's a good indication on how I felt about the book.
I'm sure you probably know the plot, but just in case, it's about three different women all connected in some way by Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. The first is Virginia Woolf who is writing the book, the second is Laura Brown, a 1950s suburban housewife who is reading the book, and Clarissa Vaughn, nicknamed Mrs. Dalloway, who is throwing a party for her friend/living out the story. The three women aren't completely happy with their lives. We know what happened to Virginia Woolf. And even if you didn't, the book starts with her suicide, so now you know. Spoiler, I guess. Laura feels trapped by her life and is possibly in love with a neighbor. Clarissa's best friend and dear love is dying of AIDS.
Here's the thing about the story. I liked it enough while I was reading it. For the most part it kept me engaged. For the most part. But when I put the story down, it was an effort to pick it back up again. Because overall, I didn't care too much. There were nice moments. The writing was beautiful. I really wanted to like it. And I didn't dislike the story. I just nothing-ed it. Perhaps if I had written this not long after I finished reading it I'd have more to say. Maybe. But it's been awhile and I got nothing.
I'd like to see the movie. I have hope that I'll like the movie more than the book. I don't really know why I think that. That's not true. Both Meryl Streep and Allison Janney are in the movie, so already we're starting in a good place.
Title quote from page 9
Cunningham, Michael. The Hours. Picador, 2002. First published 1998
