Each of the three main women in The Hours contemplates or dies by suicide at some point in the novel, with Virginia killing herself in the prologue and with Laura and Clarissa surviving their own suicidal impulses but having to cope with the suicide of Richard. And these characters’ actions echo the events of the novel Mrs. Dalloway, where the character Mrs. Dalloway contemplates suicide and the character Septimus ultimately dies by it). Their actions also echo the real life of Mrs. Dalloway’s author, Virginia Woolf, who, just like her lightly fictionalized counterpart in this novel, drowned herself in a river. The novel delves into the mental health of its three protagonists, showing how each woman takes on a heavy mental burden to deal with the pressures of daily life while also showing how a perceived sense of failure can prevent them from enjoying their successes. Virginia’s mental health problems manifest physically as headaches that limit her ability to write and keep her trapped outside of London in the suburb of Richmond. Laura’s anxiety makes it feel like nothing she ever does for her husband, Dan, will ever be good enough. Finally, Clarissa’s own anxiety about her relationship with her friend and former lover Richard causes her to stress over every detail of his upcoming party, right down the type of flowers in her house.
It is fittingly tragic, then, that the death of Richard is the event that brings all three protagonists of the story together. The ending reveals how, as much as suicide plays a key role in lives of each of the protagonists, perhaps what really defines the three of them is their status as survivors. Even Virginia, the only protagonist who does indeed kill herself, lives for many years after the day of her life depicted in the novel, and her works continue to be relevant long after her death. Laura lives even longer, making it into her 80s and surviving the deaths of Dan and both her children. Finally, in the aftermath of Richard’s death, Clarissa experiences grief, but she also uses the moment as a chance to finally separate from her old persona as “Mrs. Dalloway” (a nickname Richard gave her) and try to start a new phase of her life. The Hours examines how mental health struggles can make life unbearable while also celebrating the resilience that people can find to survive despite mental health challenges.
Suicide and Mental Health ThemeTracker
Suicide and Mental Health Quotes in The Hours
She hurries from the house, wearing a coat too heavy for the weather. It is 1941. Another war has begun. She has left a note for Leonard, and another for Vanessa.
Richard’s chair, particularly, is insane; or, rather, it is the chair of someone who, if not actually insane, has let things slide so far, has gone such a long way toward the exhausted relinquishment of ordinary caretaking—simple hygiene, regular nourishment—that the difference between insanity and hopelessness is difficult to pinpoint. The chair—an elderly, square, overstuffed armchair obesely balanced on slender blond wooden legs—is ostentatiously broken and worthless.[…] Richard will not hear of its being replaced.
Before following them, Virginia lingers another moment beside the dead bird in its circle of roses. It could be a kind of hat. It could be the missing link between millinery and death.
She would like to lie down in its place. No denying it, she would like that.
She is better, she is safer, if she rests in Richmond; if she does not speak too much, write too much, feel too much; if she does not travel impetuously to London and walk through its streets; and yet she is dying this way, she is gently dying on a bed of roses.
“But there are still the hours, aren’t there? One and then another, and you get through that one and then, my god, there’s another. I’m so sick.”
Richard smiles. He shakes his head. He says, “I don’t think two people could have been happier than we’ve been.”
He inches forward, slides gently off the sill, and falls.
They settle into another silence, one that is neither intimate nor particularly uncomfortable. Here she is, then, Clarissa thinks; here is the woman from Richard’s poetry. Here is the lost mother, the thwarted suicide; here is the woman who walked away. It is both shocking and comforting that such a figure could, in fact, prove to be an ordinary-looking old woman seated on a sofa with her hands in her lap.
And here she is, herself, Clarissa, not Mrs. Dalloway anymore; there is no one now to call her that. Here she is with another hour before her.
“Come in, Mrs. Brown,” she says. “Everything’s ready.”