Alec Nevala-Lee

Thoughts on art, creativity, and the writing life.

Virginia Woolf on the spider’s web of fiction

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Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in midair by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to the grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.

Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Written by nevalalee

October 22, 2011 at 7:30 am

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