What happens in Part II of To the Lighthouse?
Sections 6–10 of "Time Passes" condense years of absence and decay into just a few pages. The house on the Hebrides coast stands empty, its rooms succumbing to dampness, rust, and encroaching plants. In bracketed asides—almost like parenthetical interruptions—Woolf reveals the war's toll: Andrew Ramsay is killed in France, his death noted in a single sentence; Prue Ramsay dies in childbirth, her fate similarly brief. Mrs. McNab, the charwoman, navigates the darkening rooms like a mythical figure, her lurching, humming presence being the only human warmth remaining in the building. By Section 9, news arrives that the Ramsays plan to return, prompting Mrs. McNab to enlist Mrs. Bast to save the house from further ruin—scrubbing, airing, and trimming back the garden. The last section of "Time Passes" concludes on the eve of the family's return, the house brought back to a fragile, temporary order, with a lamp lit in the window once again.
Analysis
Woolf's main technique here is the intentional reversal of narrative hierarchy. The deaths of Andrew and Prue — events that would typically dominate entire chapters in a conventional novel — are placed in brackets, typographically placed beneath the slow decay of wallpaper and the advance of weeds. This choice is powerful because of its restraint: grief isn’t overtly shown but rather embedded, almost concealed, compelling the reader to engage in the emotional work that the prose avoids. Woolf suggests that time itself is indifferent — the impersonal world doesn't stop for human loss.
Mrs. McNab acts as a counterbalance to decay. Her singing, described as emerging from "the midst of nothing," is both humorous and mournful; she represents a working-class resilience that the novel's more intellectual characters struggle to embody. In Section 7, Woolf gives her a nearly visionary inner life, briefly delving into her thoughts in a way that reflects the novel's broader stream-of-consciousness style, before pulling back.
The tone varies significantly across sections: it’s lyrical and almost abstract when portraying the house's decline, starkly factual in the bracketed death notices, and ultimately cautiously optimistic as lamplight returns. Light — which symbolizes Mrs. Ramsay throughout Part I — reappears in the text not as a presence but as an echo, a motif revived to indicate continuity and irreversible loss simultaneously. The house's restoration is never a victory; it is, at best, a temporary reprieve from oblivion.
Key quotes from Part II
“[A shell exploded. Twenty or thirty young men were blown up in France, among them Andrew Ramsay, whose death, mercifully, was instantaneous.]”
Delivered inside square brackets mid-section, Andrew's death is announced with bureaucratic brevity, the parenthetical form enacting the novel's argument that the universe absorbs catastrophe without comment.
“She could see nothing plain now, since Mr Carmichael had taken to sleeping in the day-time, his boat-shaped body, his hands, his face, all seemed to her to be dissolving in the mist.”
Mrs McNab's dimming perception in Section 7 briefly opens her consciousness to the reader, granting her an impressionistic interiority that mirrors the novel's wider technique.
“Nothing stirred in the drawing-room or in the dining-room or on the staircase. Only through the rusty hinges and swollen sea-moistened woodwork certain airs, detached from the body of the wind, crept round corners and ventured indoors.”
Woolf personifies the encroaching air as a kind of ghostly occupant, sustaining the motif of the house as a sentient, breathing entity in the family's absence.