eBook Who's Afraid of Leonard Woolf?: A Case for the Sanity of Virginia Woolf ePub

This is going to be the harshest review I've ever written, but sadly this muddled, neurotic and inaccurate book warrants panning.

I'm quite the fan of biographies, and have read more than a few. I think most are familiar with the biographer who loves his or her subject so dearly that he or she invests that person with every admirable attribute, thereby presenting an unbalanced view of the subject. Then there is the biographer seeking to stir controversy by suggesting some heretofore unheard of scandal in the life of the subject. The biographer looking to cash in simply by saying something new, and thereby sell more books.

Bizarrely Irene Coates' book doesn't qualify as either. Coates truly seems to believe her theories, and her unsubstantiated paranoia regarding Leonard Woolf. It's difficult to even make it through the forward without laughing at Coates a bit. She fancies herself a real-life Miss Marple, hot on the case. Unfortunately Coates is simply flinging about rather serious accusations with very little to back them up other than her fevered imagination.

The truth about Leonard Woolf likely lies somewhere between the authorized biography's saintly portrayal, and Coates frankly sinister treatment of him. Where the authorized version nearly deifies, Coates demonizes. Truthfully, she makes Leonard Woolf out to be a villain more worthy of Lemony Snicket than of a serious consideration in a biographical context. Coates frequently lets her imagination run away with her, and becomes laughable in doing so.

Take her insistence that Leonard caused Virginia's first suicide attempt by leaving a box of Veronal out in the open. Coates argues that Virgina was not mentally ill, yet condemns Leonard for leaving the drug where Virginia can have access to it. This is only one instance of Coates' rather deluded logic. Either Virginia Woolf was in need of constant supervision, or she was not. Coates simultaneously argues that she was not, yet that Leonard needed to lock away all drugs, as if he was dealing with a small child.

Not worth the time it takes to read, or the money required for purchase this is quite simply an awful book that fails to even make sense. I eventually checked the publisher of this mess to see if perhaps it wasn't a vanity press. Often almost amusingly ludicrous, I gained no further insight into either Leonard or Virginia Woolf by reading this. It isn't even useful as a feminist undertaking, examining the Patriarchy as an influence because whereas Coates clearly did research this book, she is seemingly unaware that her conclusions are her own invention.

Coates doesn't seem to be aware that she is engaging in historical fiction, not biography. Clearly Coates admires Virgina Woolf tremendously, but that fails to make this a worthwhile read. Save your money, and your time. This is a book without merit that only serves to make Irene Coates appear rather pitiable and provides no insight into the Woolfs.

Irene Coates’ “Who’s Afraid of Leonard Woolf” has been disparaged by readers/critics for its sub-par standards and for its reckless assault on a saintly literary figure. We’re told that it eschews objectivity, academic standards, and normal restraint, and is contaminated by radical feminism.

But, does the world need one more properly moderated, high-minded, rule-bound (official) account of an influential figure? Even the works of our best biographers seem a little too formed, flattened, and accomplished. And aren’t these works, for the most part, simply cloaked in the mantel of objectivity to satisfy the vested interest of liberal publishing circles?

As to Coates’ unabashed expose of a Lit star, best known--and revered, for his so-called exceptional, longsuffering, patient care of the renowned novelist Virginia Woolf, being slanted and strident, isn’t this simply blaming the messenger. Since when is stating what is predominantly obvious about a man equal to entering taboo territory? For to think that Leonard Woolf’s life was somehow immune from the universality of male dominance, requires a rather extremely closed mind--especially in his case.

For prior to becoming the Virginia Woolf‘s custodian, Leonard was a colonial imperialist in Ceylon, overseeing executions, slaveholding; using prostitutes, and other women as chattel; and ruling by his “method” of tortuous manipulation which he had learned as a member of the elite Apostles at Cambridge. He was a man who had disowned his family and most specifically his mother, who he abhorred privately and denounced publicly. And who having been reborn to his own image of the Greek hero Pericles, was committed to a Western exceptionalism based primarily in an extremely sexist and slaveholding Greek classical culture, and to his own triumphal legacy.

So, after manipulating Virginia Stephen into marriage, he erases her name; ceases control of her finances; insists on her madness, colluding with both her psychiatrists and doctors; becomes her publisher; controls her own press; monitors her diaries; determines her travel, her friends, and her public appearances. And as his presence pervades Virginia’s life, he guilt-trips her, instills in her dread and loathing, willfully undercuts her integrity, and impoverishes her, denying her the simple pleasures of life. Virginia’s isolation, self-doubt and vulnerability to madness, breakdowns, and suicide attempts constitute his plot, as the political tyrant in Ceylon becomes the personal tyrant in marriage.

Irene Coates covers these conditions, but what’s more important to her is Virginia’s incredible capacity to write her way out of Leonard’s oppressive hold--with her own far more subtle plots. For in her novels, and most directly in “The Waves” and “Between The Acts” she refuses to be mute about her need for emancipation. Driven inward, she does not lose her mind, but rather manages to grasp reality in its true depth and breadth, thus becoming a subject to herself in her own self-rescue. Here, in the realm of her work, she tells her secrets, takes retribution, and states her aversion and disdain for her marriage to an unlovable partner.

One may differ with Coates’ analysis of these and other of her fictional works, but readers need not strain to grasp even her more questionable assertions. Perhaps the biggest problem with Coates’ biography is not its believability but the fictional scenes she often employs to supplement evidence and textual analysis. Although they are later proven more plausible as one reads on and the evidence unrolls, I think they could be either dispensed with or woven into her actual coverage. But since Coates is a playwright, these re-enactments do make some sense. (she might also drop the right-brain, left brain analyses, which is kind of like yin yang)

In any case, the great thing about Coates is that she consistently calls a spade a spade. She says that for 30 years of “watching his potential victim, he (Leonard) knew exactly how to drive Virginia to suicide” and that “he never revised his opinion.” Never recessive before the big bad Woolf nor his choir of admirers, she fearlessly advocates for a direct feminist view of Virginia’s life. “Whether anyone else agrees with me,” she says, “I neither know or deeply care.”

But for those who think she’s just too far gone in her assessment, let’s end with the words of the Woolfs’ friend, T.S. Eliot: “Any man might do a girl in, any man has to, needs to, wants to, once in a lifetime, do a girl in.”

Those , like me, who have absolutely glued ourselves to the study of VW and have read all we could get our hands on, including things written by others who knew the W's, can see that Leonard probably was a bad boy. He admits that. He had an extremely dark, deep, scary side to him. He was very good at making everyone around him feel that he was an extremely good husband, nice guy. He'd perfected the technique. When I'd read the biographies and so much about the w's, I always felt that something was missing. There's something going on behind the scenes, between the lines, in the dark. Thus I was very excited to discover this book. Bought it used, thru amazon. Read it immediately. Highly recommended for those who really care. I always gave L the benefit of the doubt, even after reading the diaries, since what is said between husband and wife can be taken the wrong way if read by strangers. But there were some things that just couldn't be defended under that principle. I agree completely with Donna Seaman's review above , under editorial reviews. The ending is dramatic, highly interesting, and logical. Highly recommend this book.. congratulate the author.

There is no self-righteous feminist cliche that Ms. Coates does not bring into play in this mindless distortion of all the known facts about the marriage of Leonard and Virginia Woolf. It is astonishing that anyone even published such reductive and tin-eared rubbish.
I was very amused to read a hysterical, illiterate attack by Ms. Coates on a review in a respected magazine, which she wrongly attributed to a man (the reviewer had a slightly androgynous name; Ms. Coates suggested that "he" stop assaulting women and go play football). So let me make it clear that I too am female...