"Kew Gardens" by Virginia Woolf (published 1919)

As this is the only book by Virginia Woolf that I've read thus far (I'm a bit ashamed of that; but I'll catch up!) I'm not sure how I can compare this work to her oeuvre. But I can say that "Kew Gardens" is a gorgeously strange book that is the length of a children's picture book. It takes place in England's real Kew Gardens: a botanical garden that holds the most diverse plant life in the world and which still stands today. 

Woolf writes in prose, using her eyes to describe flower beds, leaves, stalks, snails, and the people who walk amongst them. Her words are written in exquisite imaginative detail, as if she were looking through an enchanted magnifying glass, allowing her to hear the desires of the flowers and other plant-life and the inner thoughts of their visitors. Woolf records fictional conversations of the inhabitants, such as inner ruminations of their past in tandem with their almost paranoiac response to the garden that surrounds them in the present. The whole book has the feel of something truly organic, arising from the mind spontaneously, and eloquently written down in a story that is as descriptive of the outside world as it reflects on the emotional and psychological within. 

"Kew Gardens" is a perfect book to be read aloud by anyone and at any age. Its poetic style lends itself to the auditory realm, making the book sensuous. Aiding this characteristic is Woolf's brilliant literary examinations of the physical aspects of the garden, almost making the reader feel the textures and colors with their fingertips and eyes, hearts and minds all tuned into an intuitive sensitivity. Woolf's voice in this is multiple and populous, not singular, making reading the passages infinitely fascinating. Each page is a work of art on its own. 

"Kew Gardens" is a book for to own, to keep on your bookshelf, and to return to for any reason, but especially if one is in want of that magical spark of the written word in the short story form.