I Am Afraid to Write the Stronger Word
on love letters of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West
I Am Afraid to Write the Stronger Word
The Love Letters of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West offer a profound glimpse into the intimate correspondence between two iconic figures of the 20th-century literary scene. One is celebrated for her modernist prose, and the other is known for her beautiful poetry and novels. These legendary writers engaged in a relationship that transcended the conventional boundaries of their time.
A short letter from Virginia encapsulates the tone of their entire communication: “Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word. - Your Virginia.”
I’ve been there myself, afraid to write the stronger word. Sometimes it can even feel unnecessary. Your eyes might tell an entire story, too complex to be written down or put into words. Of course, Virginia did write an entire novel, Orlando, to depict her lover. And what a love letter and dedication that is!
Virginia’s letters to Vita are not just expressions of love but also meditations on identity, time, and the essence of human connection. Her mind fascinates me. Through her words, we see her grappling with the complexities of her thoughts and emotions. And when we read the last lines of the collection… well, I cry every time.
Vita, the younger, wilder counterpart, exudes passionate admiration. Her letters reflect a soul deeply moved by Virginia’s sensitivity and intellect. You can tell at times that the writers want to impress each other with their wordplay… and then there’s the pure form of emotion.
The raw authenticity with which they bare their souls to each other is captivating. And even more so, the times when they try to hide their truest thoughts. It’s easy to see from the beginning how charmed they are by each other. Don’t we all know that the best part of truly getting to know someone is wanting to reveal yourself, to show all that could be lovable, yet being too afraid to do that? So, you teeter on the edge of something endless, something human and tender.
It’s curious how they sometimes write about themselves in the third person, as if to create distance from their startling bond. Sometimes the purest things are said with the least decoration: “Not much news. Rather cross – Would like a letter. Would like a garden. Would like Vita. Would like 15 puppies with their tails chopped off, 3 doves, and a little conversation.” (Letter from Virginia). There is something deeply resonant about their bond. The witty, dry humor, the sudden seriousness, the deep care, and yet, the much-needed distance. Perhaps writers and creatives need distance from their muses to differentiate what is real, what is a story, and who is the soul within themselves experiencing all of it.
Virginia writes in her diary: “Now, to write a list of Christmas presents. Ethel Sands comes to tea. But no Vita.” The existence of the love affair, its proximity, is like a being in itself. Everything is and isn’t all at once. The yearning exists, yet there’s rationalization. The care exists, yet there’s the proper order of life. Emotions are like little birds—in the air, in their nests, on a pond washing their feathers. Emotions are felt and seen at once. As writers, they are able to step back and observe what’s going on. The tenderness towards each other doesn’t need to change anything. It is felt, accepted, and cherished. They both know—what else is there to it?
In tracing their correspondence, we witness not only the evolution of their relationship but also the changing landscapes of gender, sexuality, the literary scene, and politics in the early 20th century. The letters are intimate yet intellectual. They invite the reader into a secret world where words become bridges between hearts and minds.
If you’ve ever sent someone a song trying to tell them how you feel without revealing yourself… you should read this!
<3 Jonna
I Say The Whole Day On Love
Mostly quotes + a few ponderings, because how can one review letters?
“At first you think she is plain; then a sort of spiritual beauty imposes itself on you, and you find a fascination in watching her,” Vita told her husband of Virginia soon after they first met. And so began a twenty-year-long connection between the two talented women.
While I was reading Vita and Virginia’s letters, I couldn’t help but think how lucky they were to spend their days writing, reading, and doing what they loved. Having all this free time. The Tribune offered Virginia “free passages, hotel bills, and £120 to go to New York for a month in the spring and write 4 articles.” Oh, how lovely. Wish that were me.
Reading this book felt like we got to see the inner workings of their minds. Both Vita and Virginia strung words together so beautifully in their diaries and letters. Getting insight into how each of them went about their writing process was perhaps my favorite part.
On writing and deadlines, Vita wrote:
“My story I fear is but a crazy affair. If you gave me a severe date by which it must reach you, typed and tidy, I should obey, being very tractable. If you say you must have it next week I will sit up all night and finish it. If you say ‘any time will do’ I shall continue to glance at it disgustedly once a day and shove it back into its drawer with no word added.”
&
“Darling, I’m no poet, I think. I am a lump of dough, so far as poetry is concerned,” which pretty much sums up how I feel sometimes.
Debating with fellow intellectuals how much of the day to spend on each activity, Virginia writes that “Morgan [E. M. Forster] says he’s worked it out and one spends 3 hours on food, 6 on sleep, 4 on work, 2 on love. Lytton [Strachey] says 10 on love. I say the whole day on love.”
I, too, say the whole day on love. It is the only way.
<3 Didi