Reviewer: Alan Chin
Publisher: Picador (Jan. 2000)
Pages: 240
In 1920’s London, Virginia Wolf’s rebellious spirit is
fighting against her madness as she attempts to make a start on her new novel.
Two decades later, a young wife and mother, broiling in a suburb of Los
Angeles, yearns to escape and read her precious coy of Mrs. Dalloway. And Clarissa Vaughan roams Greenwich Village in
1990’s New York to buy flowers for a party she is hosting for a dying poet.
Moving across the decades and between England and America,
this novel intertwines the stories of three unforgettable heroines, refracted
through the prism of a single day. Cunningham brings these women’s lives
together in a creative way, and with rare skill.
Thought I am not an enthusiastic fan of Cunningham’s other
novels, I can sum The Hours up in one
word: Brilliant.
Cunningham paints vivid portraits of three women in three distinctly
different times and settings. Their lives resonate with association as Cunningham
explores the ideas of duty, sexuality, aesthetic creativity, the boundaries
between sanity and madness, and suicide.
The prose shimmers with the grace of a ballet. The
connections between the three storylines are both subtle and powerful. The author
has produced a work that can only be regarded as high art. It is moving, intelligent, and unforgettable.
It has a number of gay characters and touches on gay themes without being a gay
story.
This is my third reading, and I’m sure I’ll continue to
return to it again and again.
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