Some novels travel better through time than others, I feel; and maybe it’s not surprising that Virginia Woolf’s work can struggle a little. Between the Acts is, I think, one such novel. The technical artistry and innovation is clearly there to see, but the novel suffers in terms of distance because of the world it portrays: the world of village pageants staged in the gardens of a grand house with Bentleys and Rolls Royce parked on the drive is, nowadays, ‘rarified’ to say the least.
But none of that should get in the way of what Woolf was trying to do and how she was endeavouring to do it: the fluid yet fragmented language, the variations in pace, the unspoken asides (almost ‘fourth wall’ breaking) etc.
In the twenty-first century perhaps one more for the purists… but still worth a read.
Ian Gouge - Writer 