When you read a classic, a book that is well known and is recognized, you just have to like it. If you don’t, you feel quilty. That’s what happened to me with Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. Mrs. Dalloway is one of those books that you simply must adore. Some have said that it’s brilliant, fabulous, sharp-eyed, incisive, verbally rich and so on.
Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t like it. To me it was irregular and confusing. There was no plot, just random train of thoughts from a mixed bunch. It was very hard for me to read this book and it took me a while, although it’s not very long.
I must admit this. If it makes me a bad and uncultured person, so be it.