Virginia Woolf’s second novel is a response. Not just a response to Joyce’s Ulysses, a novel that whether she’d liked to have acknowledged it or not, formed a looming shadow over her; but a response to modernism as a whole. But Mrs Dalloway doesn’t dwell on what modernism is from the sidelines, instead it comments on and adapts to it exactly as it unfolds, both on a large scale and all the way down to its smallest literary elements. The novel follows Clarissa Dalloway over the course of a single day as she prepares for, and subsequently hosts, a party. Her life ‘clashes’ with that of Septimus Warren Smith, a war veteran with PTSD, who is also attempting to adapt to the modern world. A large part of the novel’s merit stems from its condensing of time and space. Clarissa’s lamenting over the past is linked to her present, in fact it directly shapes it, and we see this through the stream of consciousness-esque writing. Ulysses was a controversial work in Woolf’s life, and as a result she struggled to escape Joyce’s influence, as did many others. Even in this review of her novel I’m still talking about the guy. But it’s through its own entropic responsiveness that Mrs Dalloway gains its identity, the chaos of the prose leads the chaos of the narrative, and this chaos allows the novel to break free from its inspiration, at least partly. Clarissa constantly pines over the past, despite her seemingly stable and healthy relationship she thinks about bygone lovers and opportunities a lot; it’s not that she’s unable to commit to her husband, it’s that she can’t commit to herself, and it’s this longing for identity that drives her, and eventually offers her a sort of ending. While Clarissa longs for the past, Septimus tries to escape it. Both are uncomfortable with how time affects them, and this forms one of the key conflicts of modernism. Though bear in mind that Clarissa’s the only ‘real’ character here: Septimus, despite being someone who we actively follow throughout the narrative, is nothing more than an abstraction of his own ideas, used as a sort of foil to Clarissa. He’s not a direct extension of her psyche, rather he becomes one when the ideas he presents blend themselves with hers’, his conclusion is a rejection of what Clarissa accepts, and through this, despite the two’s very limited connection, a bond is formed: Clarissa offers a response. She doesn’t know him but she feels she does, and that’s enough. The whole novel’s filled with these superficial interactions; it’s extremely difficult to actually know someone, so this metaphysical bond she internally justifies will have to do, at least for now. Clarissa’s conclusion comes in the form of an acceptance of the world around her, and this is paralleled with that of Woolf herself, whose artistic progression is synthesised with that acceptance. Modernism is embraced, and they each connect to their own realities through one another.