Unveiling Woolf: The Playful Poetess as Your Whimsical Aunt

Some significant updates in the domain of 20th century modernist literature: Virginia Woolf, the renowned novelist and essayist, was also recognized as a poet. This is based on recent documents revealed by Sophie Oliver, a lecturer in modernism at the University of Liverpool.

Oliver discovered these at the Harry Ransom Center, an archival library situated at the University of Texas at Austin. She was conducting research on Gertrude Stein, another prominent literary figure. However, she opted to escape the Texas heat by exploring the Woolf archives. During her examination of a collection of correspondence between Woolf and her niece, Angelica, she stumbled upon two folded sheets of paper. The materials appeared distinct from the paper used for the letters. Furthermore, they were inscribed in pencil. “It’s clearly these two hastily composed poems,” remarked Oliver. “And my immediate thought was ‘well, that’s peculiar.’ Because Virginia Woolf isn’t recognized as a poet.”

Following the discovery, Oliver delved into existing research on Woolf and consulted experts in the field but could not find any prior reference to these poems. Oliver believes they were overlooked by other researchers “because individuals aren’t necessarily searching through a folder of letters to her niece, all of which have been published — or at least the noteworthy ones.”

Oliver estimates that the poems were composed sometime after March 1927. They unveil a different facet of Woolf. One poem, named “Hiccoughs” is addressed to her nephew, Quentin Stephen Claudian. It presents a playful, pun-filled exploration of sounds and language. “Poor Quentin / went in / to a cough? Or shall we dub it a cup? / Hiccough? Hiccup?”

The second, titled “Angelica,” carries a bit more substance.

The Dadie mentioned in the poem is a nickname for a close friend of Woolf’s – the poet and Shakespeare scholar George Rylance. According to Oliver, Dadie frequented their home enough for Woolf to engage in a light-hearted teasing of her niece about her crush. “These are indications of Woolf’s joyful spirit,” noted Oliver. “That she possessed a playful side and enjoyed indulging in whimsy and jest with these children as a means of bonding with them.”

Woolf did not have any children of her own. This was a “sensitive subject” for her, as stated by Oliver. Nevertheless, these poems reveal something touching about her relationship with the family she did have.

For Oliver, this investigative journey — locating the letters, interpreting Woolf’s handwriting, approximating their date, and discovering who Dadie was — served as a diversion from her intended work. However, she harbors no resentment about it. “This type of research is incredibly captivating and is among the pleasures of archival work,” she mentioned.

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