To the Lighthouse, I through XVIII

It is impossible to talk about To the Lighthouse without examining its style and tone, particularly Woolf's use of stream of consciousness. While Austen and Dostoevsky use free indirect discourse to offer insight into the psyche of characters while still maintaining some narrative distance, Woolf degrades the barrier between narrator and character one level further. Rather than being "pulled" towards characters, Woolf's narrator actually moves in and out of their minds, meaning that to some extent, there is no true narrative voice, only an amalgamation of the characters' observations and thoughts. An interesting example of this is Mrs. Ramsay's stream of thoughts while she is measuring the stocking against James' leg, "Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, half-way down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waters swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad" (28). Here, the observation, "never did anybody look so sad" is filtered through Mrs. Ramsay's consciousness. Her imagination of the situation, "perhaps a tear formed" overlays the physical image, and the imagery of "darkness" and "waters" are a product of her own perspective rather than an explicit narrative choice. While it's a bit difficult to read this style, it offers less biased insight into characters than free indirect discourse, and in my opinion, a more intense depiction of their consciousness than simple interior monologue.
Because Woolf meanders in and out of each character's mind, it is interesting to observe the characters (often opposing) views of each other. For instance, Lily contemplates, "for that was true of Mrs. Ramsay- she pitied men always as if they lacked something- women never, as if they had something" (85), but Mrs. Ramsay in some way exhibits pity for Lily: "There was in Lily a thread of something; a flare of something; something of her own which Mrs. Ramsay liked very much indeed, but no man would, she feared" (104). These opposing depictions and perceptions primarily serve to elucidate both the characters' way of seeing the world and the way they present themselves. However, it seems to me that these confusions of perception also illustrate the inevitable failures of human communication, and the inability for any one individual to actually understand another (as the narrator manages to do). Both of these quotes relate also to the discussion of gender roles that permeates Woolf's work. Mrs. Ramsay's apparent lack of pity for other women suggests that misogyny and oppression of women does not only stem from men, but rather has been engrained in society to the extent that women themselves facilitate it. This is somewhat refuted when we see that Mrs. Ramsay does actually feel positive and sympathetic emotion towards Lily, however, this pity centers around the fact that "no man would [like her]." The pity is not for Lily herself, but rather for her fate in a world where marriage is of utmost importance. This emphasizes the difficulty of constructing, pitying, or maintaining the female identity in the absence of men and marriage- a problem which Woolf treats as lamentable.
Woolf also uses male characters' misperceptions about women to call attention to the flaws of misogyny. Mr. Tansley observes, "They did nothing but talk, talk, talk, eat, eat, eat. It was the women's fault. Women made civilization impossible with all their 'charm,' all their silliness" (85). Tansley believes that intellect is the cornerstone of civilization, and while this idea is not refuted, his idea that talking, eating, and "charm" are actually antithetical to civilization seems vaguely absurd. Even the root of the word "civilization" contains "civil," which implies a focus on social conduct, the things which women embody and Tansley abhors. Woolf thus uses Tansley's complaint about women to refute this particular source of misogyny. Later on, when Paul, Andrew, Minta, and Nancy are by the shore, Minta "had no control over her emotions, Andrew thought. Women hadn't. The wretched Paul had to pacify her. The men (Andrew and Paul at once became manly, and different from usual) took counsel briefly" (77). Here, another complaint about females is presented: excess emotion. However, the fact that Andrew and Paul had to "become manly, and different from usual" in order to pull Minta out of this emotion implies that in fact men naturally have this "excess" emotion as well, and have to work to restrain it in order to appear manly. If both genders possess it, and only can artificially move away from it, then it is ridiculous for women alone to be criticized, and may mean that this is not actually a flaw at all.

On a totally different note, I was struck by the Woolf's use of classical reference, given how temporally removed she is from, say, Plato. When Lily "asked him what his father's books were about. 'Subject and object and the nature of reality,' Andrew had said. And when she said Heavens, she had no notion what that meant. 'Think of the kitchen table then,' he told her. 'when you're not there'" (23). The type of intellect that Mr. Ramsay possesses is in a way Platonic: he is concerned with the idea of the table, the epitome of its existence independent of observation. To me, this is a testimony to the pervasiveness of Platonic ideals, and the fact that the definition of what is considered true intellect (which Mr. Ramsay represents is the novel) has changed so little over such a long time.
Woolf also explores the ancient Oedipal complex, with the relationship between Mr. Ramsay, Mrs. Ramsay, and James. James "most of all he hated the twang and twitter of his father's emotion which, vibrating around them, disturbed the perfect simplicity and good sense of his relations with his mother" (37). James views his father as an impediment to a relationship to his mother, and has violent impulses towards him at the very beginning of the novel. This alludes to the story of Oedipus's love affair with his mother, and unintentional murder of his father. The confusion between father and son is further developed when Mr. Ramsay is described as "filled with her words, like a child who drops off satisfied" (38). As James seeks to push his father away from his role as husband, Mr. Ramsay regresses to the role of child. These blurred ideas of familial versus romantic love, and the tension between the role of fathers and sons creates a sense of unsettlement in the Ramsay family, contrasting Lily's idyllic perception of them.

At this point in the novel, I'm still a little confused by the idea and metaphor of the lighthouse itself. I felt that this was an important passage: "she looked at the steady light, the pitiless, the remoreseless, which was so much her, yet so little her, which had her at its beck and call .. . but for all that she thought, watching it with fascination, hypnotised, as if as if it were stroking with its silver fingers some sealed vessel in her brain whose bursting would flood her with delight, she had known happiness, exquisite happiness, intense happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly" (65). Though I'm not completely sure how to interpret this, it seems that the lighthouse might be a metaphor for the two-pronged nature of light, as both a "pitiless and remorseless" entity, and a bringer of "exquisite happiness." The image of "silver fingers," and Mrs. Ramsay's "fascination," as well as the general metaphor of light, cast this force of the lighthouse (whether or not it is also a metaphor for life) as captivating, permeating, and unavoidable.

Inferno (Canto 1-10): Beasts, Values, and Epic form

Because the epic genre is defined by the meter, Inferno is not "officially" an epic. However, I think that Dante, while obviously doing a little bit of Aeneid fan fiction, has significantly different purpose from those of the Homeric and Virgilian epics. Dante opens Inferno more or less in media res, in contrast to the extensive background of family feuds, divine bickering, and fates often provided in epic. Immediately, this points the focus to the individual rather than the city-state. Though of course the Iliad, Odyssey, and Aeneid all generally follow one character, they address a far broader scope and more perspectives than does Inferno. Notably, this is also the first fiction written in first person that we've read, a perspective which in a way serves to combine the story of personal journey, introspection, and discovery of Confessions with the more sensationalist backdrop of a mystical world pulled from Virgil's Aeneid.

An interesting motif that prevails throughout the first ten songs (and I expect through the entire book) is the role of beasts. In Book 1, Dante encounters the leopard, lion, and hound, then later Minos and Cereberus. Out of these, all fulfill the stereotypical characterization of the brutality and inhumanity of beasts. However, they also hold significant and important jobs: Minos delegates souls to the circles of hell, and Cereberus is a guard to one of the circles. The prevalence of unfavorable described creatures holding important roles in the underworld seems to serve two purposes: to echo the dismal, basal state to which the souls have returned and thus to emphasize the horrors of hell (perhaps in a Christian, didactic way), and possibly to pervert the normal social order of the upper world for the sake of making a comment on the condition of the real world at the time of Dante's writing.

It is also notable which characteristics are condemned and which are valued within the paradigm of a Christian as opposed to a Greek underworld. Right before Dante enters the underworld, he says "I myself prepared alone to undergo the battle" (2.4), with "battle" alluding to the Homeric culture of war and accompanying pursuit of glory. Even in a culture so removed from ancient Greece, it is difficult to avoid a little self-glorification: the pursuit of renown, whether in battle or in memorialization through literature (or, as we see here, a conflation of both), seems universally and inescapably human.

In Book 3, the ante-inferno, there is a related condemnation of "those who lived without disgrace and without praise" (3.36). The idea that neutrality in life is unacceptable echos the pursuit of renown, but recasts the homeric idea as an action necessary in avoiding hell. 

I noticed one other interesting development of values in the description of Virgil's fear, when "the poet, who was deathly pale, began" (4.14). This depiction of Virgil's fear and decision to continue anyway brings to mind a definition of bravery that I've heard before (though I can't remember where...probably some children's book): bravery is not the absence of fear, but is persevering despite fear.

On a final note, I think there are some subtle (and some not-so-subtle) parallels to Augustine's Confessions here.  Francesca says "there is no greater sorrow than thinking back upon a happy time in misery" (5.121). This echoes Augustine's discussion in Book 10 about the uniquely human capability to remember emotions without re-experiencing them, or even while experiencing the opposite emotion. Though Augustine marvels at this, in Inferno the ability to lament joys passed compounds souls' misery, casting this human capacity in a less positive light. Another parallel lies in Augustine and Dante's treatment of individuality. Augustine discusses the universal human pursuit of joy in truth, and desire for a happy life, eliminating consideration of individual character in this equation. In Dante's underworld, people are characterized only by the nature of their sins, "the undiscerning life which made them filthy now renders them unrecognizable "(7.53). Dante's underworld physically depicts the loss or absence of individuality that I understand from Augustine to be part of belief in a Christian god.