I started reading Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own
last night via Kindle and I'm not sure what to make of it. I read The Waves
in college forever ago, and no Woolf since. All I knew about A Room of One's Own when I started it was that it was a seminal work for women, for authors/artists/thinkers/scholars, and for women authors/artists/thinkers/scholars. I've read Part I and I'm feeling a bit stupid. Maybe it's too early to blog on it, but simplistically it seems to be an extended metaphor about women being invited to the table and not being relagated to merely being part of the side show or kitchen help.
On the one hand, I like and understand the notion that women are as capable of men and that genius and the artistic and creative impulse is not gender specific. On the other hand, it seems like it would be easy to use lack of opportunity (i.e., not physically or emotionally having a room of one's own) as excuse for not doing the work required to actually produce something. At some level, it comes down to how badly you want or need to create music, fiction, etc. On another level, I have no patience for those who have decided to become parents and then bail because they need to "find themselves."
Wonder if reading Part 2 will dampen this holier-than-thou reaction to Part 1. I hope so. This is one of those books I would like to like.
