Book Review: Orlando is an unfettered example of Virginia Woolf having too much fun. Who knew? In this amazing detour from her other novels, she uses all the tools at her disposal: sarcasm, irony, satire, humor, great heaps of silly as well as a small boatload of snark. Although reminiscent of Candide, here Woolf is in full-blown biographer guise (there's even an Index and eight photographs of Orlando) describing the random events of our aristocrat's picaresque life. The novel is really just an excuse for Woolf to expound (seriously and not so much) on the subjects she wants to talk about, spread over the three or four centuries of Orlando's life. She spends much of the book commenting on history, English society, writers and literature, the mechanics of writing, women's rights (and the lack thereof), the sexes, love and connection. Although there is a bit of gender bending, it's accomplished in a restrained and fairly chaste manner. No details or descriptions are given of the transformation and subsequent interactions. Not as radical as often portrayed. Orlando's life hits the traditional major moments. As Orlando was a major success (critical and financial) for Woolf, perhaps she knew what she was doing. Woolf's vivacity and wit are well displayed, with an endless number of great lines ready to highlight. Could she have done stand-up? We'll never know, but I'm sure she was great fun at tea parties. The novel slows in the later pages, but that does little to damage the entertainment and edification that came before. If Mrs. Dalloway or The Waves aren't your cup of tea, Orlando may be the hearty helping of Assam you need. [4★]
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