The Link between Septimus and Clarissa

Note: I will not be putting any GIFs on this post because I felt like it took away from the words I was trying to say instead of adding to it. Sorry for the comparatively dull looking post. I felt it was most appropriate.
Mrs. Dalloway is about way more than Mrs. Dalloway. The novel is also focused on Septimus Smith, who is never connected with Clarissa personally but has interactions with everyone else in Clarissa's life.
Both Mrs. Dalloway and Septimus Smith are intense and sensitive. Clarissa's composure is veneered in a lie of vapidness. She wants to keep her most serious musings to herself; according to her, no one else would understand them. She is wife, mother, and hostess, but she is never completely relaxed and open with anyone. No one is allowed to see the depths of Mrs. Dalloway's soul. And when Clarissa uses dark to describe her soul, she does not mean dark to connote something necessarily evil. Clarissa finds her soul to be a place of retreat. Perhaps this is not the healthiest attitude to take towards oneself, but Mrs. Dalloway is considered sane.
Septimus Smith is deemed insane. He has almost wholly retreated into his private world. Notice, for example, how his reaction to the noise of a car backfiring echoes and amplifies, but differs from Clarissa's reaction. Clarissa immediately thinks that she has heard a gun shot. World War 1 is just over. An era of terrifying death and violence has officially ended. Yet the fearful sounds of war remain. England is still in fear for what just ended.
Even though Septimus is a WW1 veteran that is struggling with "shell-shock," he does not hear gun shots when the car backfires. Instead, the noise is the sound of a whip cracking ("The world has raised its whip; where will it descend?"). Everyone else is startled, but Septimus is terrified. We have officially seen two confused and frightened people within the crowd of London.
Two different perspectives of the same moment were shown from two different people that live very different lives. Which one is the most real? The truth is that neither of them are more or less real then the other. Clarissa will learn this through the suicide of Septimus, but will never have any ability to change that reality.

A 'Nice Guy' in Victorian England

T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is literally about a man in a "prude frock" (how did I not notice this at first? oh well).


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 He tells us to follow him through "certain half-deserted streets,/The muttering retreats/ Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels /And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells" (4-8) that are presumably in London. He describes the yellow fog and keeps on insisting that there will be a lot of time to do things socially.

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But then Prufrock seems to agonize over his social actions, worrying how other people would see him if he does something wrong socially. We learn that he is a middle aged man at this point "With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—/(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)" (40-41). He is constantly worrying about women which means that he has never talked to them. He walks and watches, but never actually speaks. He even admits that he is afraid of social interactions!


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He then ponders if any form of reaction with a woman would be worthwhile if rejection is possible. He ponders dressing like a young man and hearing mermaids singing. But he knows that the mermaids will not sing to him. So he will sit there, grow old, and die without ever knowing the truth about life or love because he never does anything. The way that he describes himself reminds me of this guy:


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Have fun sitting there because you never even tried, dude! Human interaction will not come to you, J. Alfred Prufrock! You must come to it! Women will never fall in love with you (or you with them) if you lock yourself up in a tower and complain


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Let people know how nice you are by being, you know... nice! Stop being a child and just treat people the way that you would want to be treated. That is literally the secret to being a good friend and keeping good relationships.

'In an Artist's Studio' Filled with Ignorance

How relevant can an English AND Victorian poem be for 21st century America? 'In an Artist's Studio,' penned by Christina Rossetti, tells us of... well.... an artists studio.
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There, the artist has canvases filled with women that look exactly the same. Whether or not this is because this is only one model or not is to still be questioned. But the point still stands.  Every female painting looks the same within the artists studio. Even when they are dressed as a "queen in opal or in ruby dress, /A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens, /A saint, an angel.." (5-7), they all have the same face.

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Wow! Doesn't that representation of everyone that is not considered to be the "standard" of humanity ring a bell? This message is way bigger than (possibly) one model, this is a representation of any under-served group in the United States. Most of us are represented as how the media and a small portion of the population represent us. Not by how we really are.


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A pretty young woman must always be the damsel or the black widow. An Asian man must always be a warrior in Imperial China (even if they aren't Chinese), gas station worker, or a nerd. A black man must always be loud and rambunctious. Often, they are also portrayed as thieves and miscreants. Older women must be an old crone or a witch. Hispanic? Then you are probably an illegal immigrant that must "go back to your country where you belong." Let's not even mention the fact that most people in this country have an immigrant background, yet the Native American population is seen as this:

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I guess that is why a musical like Hamilton is receiving so much praise in a world of stereotypes and cultural appropriation.

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Nothing really seems to change at the end of the day. But at least we are more aware of the worlds errors.