Virginia Woolf's experiment in following lives tangentially connected as years pass, seasons change, time slips, was just okay for me. Woolf describes the exterior world- its objects, its solidity - with great dexterity but I love Woolf when the interiority of characters is the focus and the outside world is all unstable. That being said, there were some timeless passages about bananas, clocks striking and my favourite description of love so far: "Part sex; part pity. Could it be love?" Many thanks V for another good one.