My Apology

"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep--it's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out of windows or drown themselves or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us, the vast majority, are slowly devoured by some disease or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more" (225).

This is my favorite passage from Michael Cunningham’s The Hours. In these few sentences, Cunningham encompasses what seems, in my opinion, to be the primary message of the novel: three women, Virginia, Clarissa, and Laura, trying desperately to hold on to the consolatory “hour here or there when our lives burst open and give us everything we ever imagined.” Laura Brown’s sneaking off to read in a hotel room epitomizes this clingy desperation.

I am a bit disappointed in myself for not recognizing Laura’s desperation. During her narrative, I was often frustrated with her shiftiness. It seemed to me that one minute she is unhappy and contemplating suicide, and the next minute she regrets her ungratefulness and appreciates her life. I viewed her as a tempermental complainer. I was not alert enough, as a reader, to recognize the game Cunningham plays with notions of happiness versus gratefulness. Happiness exists on its own. On the other hand, gratefulness can exist with other emotions, especially unhappiness. For example, person can be grateful for $5, yet still be unhappy that they only have $5. Laura Brown is grateful. She appreciates her husband and child, but she is not happy.

After reading the above passage, I feel like a person who has just had a conversation with someone they don’t entirely “get,” so they dismiss them. Perhaps later they realize that they should not have so eagerly thrown this person aside. So, this is my apology to Mrs. Brown: I thought you were all right, I thought your sorrows were ordinary ones. I had no idea.