This book made me want to weep and to sing with joy.

What has happened to me? I started this book extremely annoyed and ended up liking it. Why? Why? Why? I don't quite know. I have to think........

By the book's end I know the central characters. Who are they? Let me start here. The book follows three women. First there is Virginia Woolf. She is recovering from headaches, terrible headaches. She is and was manic-depressive. The date of this thread is 1923 and Virginia is cared for, watched over or you might say even repressively ordered around by her dear husband who is doing all he can to help her recover. They live outside London, in the suburb Richmond. She is planning / contemplating her next novel: Mrs. Dalloway. Then there is Clarissa in modern day NYC. She is lesbian, living with Sally, but at the same time she always loved Richard, coupled with Louis, dying of AIDS. The third thread follows Laura Brown, living in Los Angeles after the Second World War, 1949. She is happily married with a considerate husband and a devoted child of three. But IS everything so hunky-dory? You flip between these three threads, which is confusing until you begin to know the different characters and places and so can immediately place where you are. There are other confusing elements. Clarissa is in fact called Mrs. Dalloway by Richard. As you proceed you recognize that different sections are entitled with one of the women's names. This is probably harder on the audiobook than in the written book.

All three threads are interconnected. All three threads depict a woman trying to escape. All three threads are about women trying to figure out how exactly they want to live their lives. All three threads are about feminism and homosexuality and suicide and death. They are all the events of just one single day, and that is also how Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf's book, is written. So you start thinking... You start comparing. Do you know Mrs. Dalloway was originally written with the ending that she committed suicide, but not in the published book!

I am sometimes uncomfortable reading lgtb literature. Is that so strange? I am heterosexual. I am glad I read this book. I just want to be upfront about this. Others may worry about this aspect too.

Here is why my view on the book changed. By the book's end I KNEW all of the central characters. I could relate to them. They felt real. I could understand what they did and why. Virginia Woolf was portrayed in such a manner that I felt Cunningham stuck to her real character and made her emotions and feelings and thoughts and ambivalences more clear. She felt genuine, not fictive. I learned more about her through reading this book. Laura, she was consistent. Different, but just as genuine. I even warmed to Clarissa who for me, by the book's end wonderfully exhibited the inner strength of women. Men and women have different strengths.

I liked this book. It kept me thinking.

It wasn’t until the end that I realized my view had changed, from negative to positive. I am terribly impressed by the author’s ability to tie together the different threads. At the same time I am not quite sure if that is a plus or a minus; should a book be so neatly constructed? Life isn’t so neat.

I still prefer Virginia Woolf’s writing to Michael Cunningham’s. …and I kind of think he stole her book! In a way. Sort of. Or you can reason he created something new from her original idea.

Even my view of the author's own narration of the audiobook changed. His tone in Clarissa's thread wonderfully captures the gay world of NYC. The language used in the different threads is modified. That is good; people do not express themselves today as one did in 1949 or 1923. You don't hear a difference in the narrative tone though, and this could be considered a weakness.

Who would have known that a book that started so badly for me would turn out so good?!

**************************************

After two and 1/2 hours of a 6 hour and 15 minute long audiobook:

Does it have to be so hard to understand the story? I want a story, not a puzzle. I don't like being confused. I have even given up taking notes.

I will continue but boy, I certainly hope this improves.

AND authors are not often capable of narrating their own books. Get someone trained for the task.

This book has put me in a horrible mood. What? Am I nuts? It won a Pulitzer.

I'm extremely impressed with this book.  I'm pretty sure I saw the movie when it came out (there's no way I'd have passed on that cast), but it wasn't a memorable experience.  At that time I hadn't read Mrs. Dalloway and knew little about Virginia Woolf other than that she was a famous well-respected writer. 

In the past few years, I've read two fiction books of hers and one nonfiction and have also read about her suicide.  One of the books I read was Mrs. Dalloway.  I was so impressed with her writing that someone trying to imitate her would never have appealed to me.  I thought it very unusual that someone would try to live up to her writing in a tribute to her.

I was wrong.  Thankfully, I started a Pulitzer challenge to read all the Pulitzer's, and this was on it and had to be read.   I love everything about this book.   Michael Cunningham's writing is gorgeous and deeply moving.  Every word resonated and even though the blurb said the 3 lives of the characters would come together, I did not have a care for trying to figure that out.  I was simply enjoying his writing. 

When the end came I was floored.  This book is a perfect tribute to the great Virginia Woolf.  I'll be seeking out more of Michael Cunningham's work and I must see the film version of The Hours again, with my heightened perspective.  I normally love a film if I loved the book and vice versa.

I saw the movie. I read Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway (2 stars) and finally read this book.

This is an easier read than Mrs. Dalloway because this uses contemporary English. Well, that thin book by Woolf was one of the first few classics that I had read upon joining Goodreads and I knew I must have missed somethings that was why I just found it okay (2 stars). I should read it again someday.

The movie stayed true to this book so it was not hard to imagine the scenes described in here even if I saw it more than a decade ago. I still remember Nicole Kidman's false nose, Julianne Moore checking in in the hotel only to lie down and read the book, Mrs. Dalloway and Meryl Streep shocked upon finding that Ed Harris committed suicide. I mean the movie left those images in me in 2002 and so it was definitely a good movie.

What this book only did was to make me understand the whole movie by letting me go through the dialogues that I missed as English is not my first language the there was no subtitle when I saw the movie during its theater run. I also understood that nuances of the middle-aged characters from Virginia Woolf in 1920's London, to Mrs. Brown in the 1950's San Francisco and Clarissa "Mrs. Dalloway" Vaughman in the 1990's New York. The story is about these three women whose lives intertwined in the end via the works and life of Woolf. It is not about some kind of reincarnation (this book is not fantasy or supernatural) but about the other women sharing the same traits, probably because of reading too much Woolf, as the great English writer.

There are many nice quotes that you would encounter reading this book but this one explains the title:

n  "There is just this for consolation we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more."n

Despite all the latent realization of these women's sexuality, suicide and checking in in the hotel just to read a book, I liked this book and I thought Cunningham did a good job and deserved his Pen/Faulkner Award for Fiction.

Ma ci sono ancora le ore, no? Una e poi un’altra, passi una e poi, mio Dio, dopo c’è l’altra

Uno stradello coi paletti gialli. Io sola che vado a scuola. Le siepi con le bacche rosse. Minuscoli pomodori, penso.

Le pozzanghere che attraverso con intenzione. I vermi che si allungano e si restringono navigando all’interno di esse. L'odore dell'asfalto bagnato. Odore di pioggia.

E quel pensiero che mi attraversa la mente: “Ora e per tutta la vita devo ricordare questo istante, io che mi osservo la mano sinistra. Questo neo che sta in corrispondenza del pollice. Le unghie. Guarda la mano e ricorda”

Un messaggio nel tempo alla me che sarà. Stessa sostanza, stesso battito. Stesso pensiero che si evolve. Tra me e quel ricordo, solo una cosa. Il tempo. Le ore.

Laura legge il momento mentre passa. Ecco, pensa, ora è qui, ora se ne va. La pagina sta per essere girata.

E ora, mia figlia che mi guarda.

La osserverà per sempre; saprà sempre quando c’è qualcosa di sbagliato. Saprà precisamente quando e quanto lei abbia sbagliato.

Nadal nie mogę wyjść z podziwy, jak diametralnie - w ciągu zaledwie kilku dni - zmienił się mój stosunek do tego tytułu. Pierwsze kilkanaście stron przewertowałam bez większego zainteresowania, a nawet z lekką dozą dezorientacji (zrzucam to teraz na karb dławiącej mnie wówczas gorączki). Drobne rozeznanie w opiniach sprawiło, że zapragnęła poznać tę historię, bez względu na to, ile ofiar będę zmuszona ponieść (pomimo swojej niewielkiej objętości, nie jest to coś, co przeczytacie na jedno posiedzenie). Zaufajcie czasem intuicji. Zapewniam, że warto.
Odczuwa się pewien dysonans, pomiędzy ukazanym w "Godzinach" dojmującym smutkiem, a absolutnie wspaniałym językiem, który posłużył do jego opisu. Chcąc być szczerą, zauważyć muszę, że zabrakło mi kompetencji do zrozumienia niektórych posunięć bohaterów, ich myśli. 
Czy jest to szczególnie problematyczne? Nie sądzę.
Żywię nadzieję, że kolejne "podejścia" (które uczynię z prawdziwą przyjemnością) okażą się owocne w coraz to nowe wnioski i przemyślenia. Na ten moment, jestem oczarowana wszystkim, co tylko mogło do mnie trafić. 

PS: pojawienie się pewnego nazwiska przypomniało mi o dorocznym maratonie z moim ulubionym filmem sygnowanym nazwiskiem Johnny'ego Deppa. Dziękuję, +0,005 do oceny (żartuję, nie ma tak dobrze). Lecę szykować chusteczki.

Tive curiosidade de ler este livro após saber que o filme era baseado no mesmo e tendo já lido o famoso Mrs Dalloway, de V Woolf, essencial para a compreensão desta obra.

Cunningham conta um dia na vida de cada uma das três protagonistas - abordando temas como a depressão, a feminilidade, a sexualidade - de uma forma eficaz e subtil até ao ponto em que estas três narrativas se interesetam no final da história. Gostei muito do retrato de uma dona de casa dos anos 50, presa a um papel que não lhe assenta, de um poeta moribundo que se vê a braços com uma homenagem feita talvez por pena, e de Woolf, uma das minhas personalidades preferidas da literatura.

Aconselho este livro a todos os que tiverem gostado de Mrs Dalloway, por se tratar de uma homenagem e complemento muito interessantes!

I am obsessed! By the end of the day I will have read this book, listened to the BBC radio production, and streamed the movie. If my library currently had a copy of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, I’d be running over there to get that (I have a copy requested/on hold). This was a sublime reading and listening experience and I can’t wait to stream the movie tonight. This book deserved the Pulitzer and every other award it won. Simply brilliant.

Oh and by the way, I had never read any Virginia Woolf, didn’t know her story, but will be digging for more. Apparently (Wikipedia) she pioneered the stream of consciousness narrative device, something I’ve always enjoyed, and Cunningham does this book in that style. The story gets into the heads of 3 women on one day in their respective lives - Virginia Woolf in 1921 outside London as she is starting to write the novel Mrs. Dalloway, a young LA housewife in 1950 who is reading that book, and a middle-aged lesbian New Yorker in the late 1990s whose first name is Clarissa (Mrs. Dalloway’s first name is Clarissa). Their stories thus are all connected, the prose is gorgeous and I love love loved it!

“There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we’ve ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more.” -- Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Michael Cunningham’s The Hours is an inspired creative work of art that uses Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway as a starting point. The author braids together three different stories of three different days in the lives of three female protagonists: Mrs. Woolf, Mrs. Brown, and “Mrs. Dalloway.” Mrs. Woolf is an imagined version of Virginia Woolf herself, in June 1923, as she is in the process of creating her book and envisioning how it will unfold. Mrs. Brown is Laura Brown, a wife and mother in 1949, who is suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts. “Mrs. Dalloway” is Clarissa Vaughan, nicknamed by her gay friend and noted poet, Richard, due to her first name and personality. She buys flowers for a party she is hosting later that evening for Richard, who is about to receive a literary award. The exact date is not given, but implied to be in the 1990’s. It is hard to do justice to this novel through a plot summary. Suffice it to say it is character-driven and plot is secondary.

Poignant and sad, though not without a thread of hope, this novel explores the difficulties of living with depression, surviving day-to-day in the face of mortality, and fighting against perfectionistic tendencies. The reader will notice many parallels to Woolf’s work in style, themes, and scenes. Cunningham’s prose is lyrical, and he successfully simulates Woolf’s stream-of-consciousness writing style, replete with parentheses, semi-colons, detailed descriptions, and asides. Themes include time, mortality, gender, creativity, and finding meaning in life. The perspective is omniscient third person, so the reader is privy to the thoughts of both the main and secondary characters. This work evokes questions in the mind of the reader and invites meaningful introspection. Be aware going in that the content includes suicide.

The Hours is a brilliant and moving tribute to the hopes and fears of everyday life. Cunningham turns the seemingly mundane into the sublime. Recommended to anyone that has read and had a positive reaction to Mrs. Dalloway.

I watched the film of this shortly after it was released in 2002, but I've only just picked up the book. Luckily I watched it long enough ago to not remember much about the story. I loved this novel. I think it might well make my top ten books read this year.
Three stories:
A fictionalised account of a day in the life of Virginia Woolf when she was living in Richmond and desperate to move to London.
A day in the life of Mrs Brown who is struggling with her life as a wife and mother, and goes off in the middle of the day, hires a hotel room, and reads Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf.
A day in the life of Clarissa Vaughan who is arranging a party for friend, and one time lover, Richard.
The stories (in particular the latter two) come together at the end with heart-stopping tragedy.
(But, oh! that terrible cover.)

Wat een sensatie, wat een schok, op een ochtend in juni in leven te zijn

In De Uren volgen we de verschillende levens van drie vrouwen in drie verschillende periode's, die allemaal verbonden zijn met Virginia Woolf's roman Mrs. Dalloway. Elk met hun twijfels, angsten en verlangens die nauwelijks aan de oppervlakte komen in de schijnbare perfecte levens die ze leiden. Onder de alledaagsheid van het kopen van een bos bloemen en het bakken van een taart ligt een woest water - wie zijn ze, welke rol spelen ze en wat hadden ze kunnen zijn? Drie vrouwen, Virginia Woolf zelf, Laura Brown en Clarissa Vaughan. Gescheiden door de tijd, maar elk leveren ze dezelfde strijd tegen sociale normen, hun sexualiteit en het moederschap of ambities.

Cunningham wisselt af en toe knap van perspectief dat laat zien hoe goed de vrouwen erin geslaagd zijn een beeld te scheppen dat hun neerzet als succesvolle vrouwen waardoor hun omgeving vaak geen idee heeft wat er werkelijk in hun omgaat. Wij als lezer zien die wel, en dat laat mooi zien hoe iedereen zichzelf af en toe existentiele vragen stelt en daarop een antwoord moeten geven.

Uiteindelijk is het dan Virginia Woolf zelf die er de brui aangeeft. Ze laat haar genialiteit en roem achter zich en sterft zonder het besef dat ze voor generaties vrouwen daarna als voorbeeld zal dienen - alhoewel ik me na het lezen van dit boek afvraag of haar dat tot troost had gediend. De twee andere vrouwen nemen elk hun eigen beslissing.

We stellen ons af en toe allemaal wel eens de vraag of 'dit het is' en hoe het zou zijn als we in een ander tijdsperk hadden geleefd. Zelden wordt dit op zo'n mooie literaire wijze samengevat als in dit boek van Michael Cunningham.

Update 21 Februarie: zojuist de film gezien en die is ook schitterend. Het weet de essentie van het boek goed te pakken met schitterende rollen van Meryl Streep, Julian Moore en Nicole Kidman.

BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT! I loved loved LOVED this book! Every word, every page…. Fantastic writing, intricate structure, amazing insights. I have LOADS of passages earmarked. This is definitely a must-read-again (and again and again and again!). I *never* cry when I read books – this time I cried.
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FAVOURITE QUOTE: “It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk, the anticipation of dinner and a book. The dinner is by now forgotten; Lessing has been long overshadowed by other writers; and even the sex, once she and Richard reached that point, was ardent but awkward, unsatisfying, more kindly than passionate. What lives undimmed in Clarissa’s mind more than three decades later is a kiss at dusk on a patch of dead grass, and a walk around a pond as mosquitoes droned in the darkening air. There is still that singular perfection, and it’s perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then. There has been no other.” [p. 98]