Orlando by Virginia Woolf

Honestly, guys? Whenever I try to write a review of this book (any Woolf book, really,  but especially this one) I can’t think of anything to say. Words fail me, and best thing I can think of to describe what I thought of Orlando and why I love it is this:

Every single emotion I’ve ever felt and every thought I’ve ever had, had already been felt and thought and written down by Virginia Woolf decades before I was even born. There is not a single concept or feeling in any of her books that isn’t already intimately familiar to me. Reading her books is like having someone look into my own mind, deeper than I ever looked, and discovering something that is simultaneously unheard of and completely recognizable.

Verdict: five out of five stars

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