I shouldn't've shied from this for so long. If its language isn't as lovely as that of Mrs. Dalloway, it is infinitely easier to make sense of, and I can follow its narrative, unlike that of To the Lighthouse.
Virginia Woolf is probably incapable of writing ungainly prose, even if it's less studied than Mrs. Dalloway: "He spoke in his ordinary voice and echo beat a silver gong."
Also, what a large debt Margaret Atwood owes Woolf.