Defined

"What do we seek through millions of pages? Still hopefully turning the pages--oh, here is Jacob's room." (75) What does this sentence imply? That reading must have a purpose? That subconsciously we read to fulfill ourselves (because of the use of the word hopefully)? And how are we to take this "oh,"? Is it supposed to be like an indifferent oh, or is it supposed to be a dramatic pause, or is it supposed to be a surprised oh, or is it supposed to be an intrigued oh? These two sentences are not terribly complex compared to many of her other sentences, and yet, I am confused as to what it means. There is a point later in chapter 9 in which the narrator returns to this question: "What was [Miss Marchmont] seeking through millions of pages, in her old plush dress, and her wig of claret-coloured hair, with her gems and her [|chilblains]?" (81) This moment occurs when Jacob with the enormous mind in the British museum. I think he's working transcribing things. The first moment occurs when eighteenth century London nightlife is being described. These two literary settings are diverse, yet they have given rise to the same question from the narrator. The context gives hardly any insight as to what the questions are //really// asking, and what the answers could possibly be. //Is there// a defined answer?

Why is Jacob's room even relevant, and how would his room be in a book? Thinking metaphorically, could the pages of the book be the pages of life? We keep searching and searching for meaning in life, and oh, here is Jacob's room. That's an improbable possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. Is Jacob's room referring to the actual pages of the book we are reading? Insights? 1200608910

I read this passage over again and believe that the narrator is talking as if she is taking us through the streets, observing surroundings and people. She questions them and their meaning in her tangential manner and comes upon Jacob's room--as if we were walking with the narrator through the streets. It is almost as if she knows that we are reading, observing, and analyzes and somewhat senses our initial confusion. Is she then intending to ramble, in a sense..? Why would this serve a purpose? I am thinking that maybe it has to do with what KLe says about searching for the meaning in life; that is an insightful way to look at this.: the pages of the book [probably--rather than Jacob's room itself] being the pages of life. I think Woolf really wants us to think; I mean, if we understand what she said immediately why would it have much importance?

This, of course, probably does not answer much at all, and it still leaves the question open for interpretation of the presence/meaning/symbolism of Jacob's room itself. I am not sure if we //can// yet understand the meaning of his room because we have not gotten to the end of anything yet. I am pretty sure, though, that even just discussing this topic (even in vague posts such as this) can help us come a bit closer to the answer. With concrete information on a page, maybe we can begin to figure it out. . . maybe that is the symbolism of the books in these chapters about books and knowledge and searching -- concrete knowledge accumulated by multiple great minds can eventually amount to an answer:

"There is in the British mueseum an enormous mind . . . . This great mind is horded beyond the power of any single mind to possess it" (83).1200622728

This idea of meaningless searching comes up a third time in chapter ten: "Damp cubes of pastry fell into mouths opened like triangular bags, Nelly Jenkinson, the typist, crumbled her cake indifferently enough. Every time the door opened she looked up. What did she expect to see?" (93) This moment happens not only outside of pages, but also, it does not have direct connection with Jacob. Of course, you could argue that everyone in the book has connection with Jacob (through ways that Woolf either has or has not made clear to us, the readers), and in this case Jenkinson is in the diner that Fanny left and Fanny likes Jacob. However, this incident leads me away from my initial thought that Jacob could have the key to the big mystery of what we are looking for. I think by now Woolf has made it fairly clear that observing Jacob too closely and disregarding the literature he has been suspended in would be a useless waste of time (I have another post on this, so I won't repeat my argument).

Is Woolf, by constantly asking this question, trying to make the reader look for something that isn't there to prove a point that we, too, are lookers? That it is in our nature to be curious? Well, maybe even a bit beyond curious, to a ridiculous level. We fixate on things that may or may not exist. What these things may be, I am still trying to get a handle on. 1201051139