I am finding it a little difficult to review this book. Imagine taking 3 years out of the life of a person, and trying to define them by those years as though they sprang out of nowhere and then disappear back to wherever they came from. The story was fascinating, and all the literary characters of the age parade through as caricatures of themselves. Siegfried Sassoon (the wounded soldier who speaks out against the war) whose story is told in [Regeneration] even makes an appearance. 
 Mansfield herself comes across as a conflicted, but fairly self-aware, hardworking author. She seems to understand her weaknesses and what she needs in order to work successfully. I would have preferred to know more of her life in New Zealand to give more depth to her personality as a young artist during WWI. 
 The book was divided into sections like acts in a play. Scenes were set up and acted out and taken down. I am not saying that it was a bad thing, it flowed along well enough, but it was a different style and took some getting used to. I am very glad that I have passing familiarity with the writers and the culture of the time period. If I hadn't, I think it would have been really difficult to follow. My overall impression is of Katherine Mansfield as a sort of female Hemingway, which may or may not be accurate... 
 I would read other books by Stead. There were beautifully written spots. 
 ETA: I had to come back and add this quote because it is such a picture of Wellington. 
 They spent the rest of the day together, walking about London and talking about Wellington. It was as if each acted as the other's guide. She took him about in fact, he led her back in memory and imagination. That night, when she lay wide awake letting her mind take its own direction, it was as if she'd spent those hours in air fresh as the first Washday of creation, under high blue-and-white skies, seeing shirts and blouses filled to bursting by the Wellington wind, pegged out and tugging to get away from green gardens and white weatherboard houses which propped themselves against steepnesses that everywhere dived into the sea - into the beautiful harbour from which she'd sailed out seven years before.