Never was anything more unkindly, unsentimental, ungenial. Yet Mrs. Woolf is a considerable writer, and plays tricks with a fine literary sense. Doubtless she is something of a cult, and in certain passages you might believe that she is making fun of the devotees. Perhaps there are analogies in painting. And for some reason when she wrote she declared her belief in God.
Life is seen in flashes, and the reader has a good deal to do.
Perhaps she will yet convince us that this is the way to write novels or one of the ways. One would like to read another book of hers when she has returned to convention. Or, perhaps, even before.