Thus, in early January, James Joyce topped my "to read" list for 2012. Several friends tried to warn me away, so I read more about his writing style. I knew that he had written short stories, the semi-autobiographical A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Ulysses, and Finnegans Wake.
Now, the song "Finnegan's Wake" is a fun, funny little Irish ballad about a man who falls off a ladder at work because he's drunk. At his wake, a fight breaks out over whether he's the nicest corpse you've ever seen, and the "corpse" revives when someone spills liquor on him. However, as I read about Joyce's Finnegans Wake, the words "stream of consciousness" and "Jabberwocky" jumped out at me. Faulkner's A Light in August was hard enough to get through, but that crossed with made up words? For 600+ pages?!? No thanks!
I was leaning towards either Dubliners or Ulysses. A collection of short stories seemed easy to read in snippets, and I was particularly intrigued by Dubliners ever since I'd heard that Cathie Ryan's song "Eveline" was inspired by one of its tales. Regarding Ulysses, I was in Dublin before and after Bloomsday in 2000 -- though I missed it so that I could see Newgrange, Tara, and Drogheda. Any novel that could continue to inspire people to celebrate it more than a century after it was written had to be a good read. The library made the decision for me, since it only had Dubliners available.
You can read my long, detailed reactions to most of the stories (or skip to the end for the snarky version) after the jump.
Long, Detailed Reactions/Summaries
I finished the first story, "The Sisters," on the walk home from the library, and it ended rather abruptly. I don't know if it was supposed to be a surprise ending, but it was telescoped from miles away, so it just felt unfinished to me -- I was left asking, "What's the point of this story?"The second story, "An Encounter," about two boys skipping school to have an adventure, was better, if a little disturbing. The imagery was vivid: "The granite stone of the bridge was beginning to be warm and I began to pat it with my hands in time to an air in my head. I was very happy." Even the implied imagery was vivid, demonstrating that (mostly lost) art of insinuating without spelling out unpleasant things.
"Araby" also had good imagery (and sounds -- I just had to read some of these lines aloud!): "a coachman... shook music from the buckled harness" and "I heard the rain impinge on the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds." However, "Araby" made me giggle with its over-the-top descriptions of a boy in love: "a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom"; "my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires"; "feeling that I was about to slip from [my senses], I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: O love! O love! many times." It was like reading a bad shoujo manga.
The fourth story was the much-anticipated "Eveline," and it did not disappoint. Though less than 5 pages long, it communicated the emotions a young lady felt throughout a life of abuse, neglect, a mother's death, and a first love. It made me want to give Eveline a giant hug and tell her "It's alright," just like the song. "Eveline" the story reminded me that indecision can become a decision, while "Eveline" the song reminds me that small changes can add up to a big change.
"After the Races" is about a well-to-do Irish lad, a hanger-on among a group of foreign travelers who are racing down the lanes of Dublin in their motorcars. Doyle is happy just to be in such company, even though he can't keep up with their conversation, their drinking, or their card game. The story ends along with the card game at dawn, with the Irish lad the biggest loser of the night (and the Englishman the big winner). Given the times in which it was written, when Irish nationalism was peaking among Joyce's literary contemporaries, the story could be seen as an allegory -- perhaps a warning that Ireland won't find it easy to keep up with more developed nations, even if it does gain independence.
"A Little Cloud" has a similar set-up to "After the Races": Little Chandler is an ordinary, married salaryman who envies his world-traveling writer friend Gallaher. Unlike Doyle, by the end of the story, Little Chandler realizes that, similar to Eveline, it's his own inhibitions that are holding him back, and yet he feels powerless to overcome them.
The seedier side of Dublin is on display in "Two Gallants." Sadly, it could take place in 2012 Dublin just as well as 1912 Dublin. The two main characters have no real job prospects and no more than a vague hope that they'll ever be able to eke their way out of poverty. They've given up, drowning their inadequacies in alcohol whenever they can get their hands on a few coins (or a friend's generosity). They use a maid, who's willing to steal from her employer in exchange for attention from one of the lads. The physical descriptions of all three characters were extremely unflattering to match their personalities, and there's only a hint of remorse and a vague desire that their lot in life will improve, but with no indication that they plan (or even know how) to do anything to change it themselves.
"Counterparts" also touches on the problems caused by alcoholism. Farrington feels bullied by his boss, who hounds him for his tardiness, frequent breaks, and slowness. Farrington deals with it by slipping out for a pint, and then treats himself to a night on the town he can ill afford (pawning his watch chain to do so). By the end of the story, it is Farrington's son who is bullied by the man himself, and the story heartbreakingly closes on the son's cries for mercy. Though the scene is brief, it is described so vividly that it brought tears to my eyes.
"The Boarding House" and "A Mother" are both about mothers who strive to manipulate those around them to ensure brighter futures for their daughters, but with very different outcomes. Mrs. Mooney, the protagonist of "The Boarding House," is depicted as a resourceful woman determined to make the best of circumstances, earning the respect of those around her through her hard work and propriety. In contrast, in "A Mother," Mrs. Kearney is a social climber who secures a position for her daughter as piano accompanist in a concert series. The concert series is not as successful as hoped, and one of the concerts is canceled. Despite that the family is not hurting for money (Mrs. Kearney spent more on her daughter's outfit than she would make for the entire series), Mrs. Kearney throws a hissy fit, demanding full payment before her daughter will perform in the final concert. Mrs. Kearney is so focused on preserving her own family's honor and standing that she insults the honor of the concert organizers, which ironically (at least from Mrs. Kearney's perspective) creates a fall in her family's standing.
Maria, the protagonist of "Clay," reminded me of my Aunt Queenie, my grandmother's sister, who died when I was 7. Aunt Queenie was the sweetest person, humble, pious, and kind, and positively loved by everyone who knew her. Maria is similar, and yet there's an insidious undercurrent to "Clay." One is never quite sure whether others are mocking Maria or are sincere in their affection, and by the end I felt that it was Joyce himself who was doing the mocking. I must confess that I did not understand the symbolism of the title when I read the story. "Clay" takes place on Halloween, which falls on the same day as the traditional Celtic New Year, and there's a fortune-telling game in which, blindfolded, one chooses from several saucers containing a variety of objects: a ring for marriage, a button/thimble for bachelorhood/spinsterhood, a prayerbook for entering the religious life, a coin for good fortune, water for long life, and clay for an early death. Maria chooses the clay but doesn't know its significance and is encouraged to play again, this time selecting the prayerbook. This game seems to be a metaphor for Maria's life: a simple life that finds its happiness in bringing joy and making peace with others -- to most observers, a holy life, and yet Joyce seems to imply that it is a dead life. Perhaps my opinion of this story was colored by my difficulty in separating Maria from Aunt Queenie, despite their differences.
I'm going to skip a few stories that didn't really impact me that much and jump right to the last story, "The Dead." This one was much longer than any other story in the book, and it's about a holiday party thrown by two elderly spinster aunties. The decorations and food are described in minute detail, and the various guests' personalities, occupations, relationships, and holiday chatter are covered. Meanwhile, the ominous title hangs over the text like a shroud, and the vaguest of references to death, illness, accident, or mourning jump out as omens as the reader wonders, "Who is the Dead?" Black clothes, a pallid face, a near tumble down the stairs, a frail elder, a walk home alone, a drunken man living on the edge, the dangerous icy streets... Death seems to be lurking everywhere, and yet what brings the Dead into the story is a song about a jilted lover. SPOILER ALERT: The only thing that dies in "The Dead" is a man's hope of some romance with his wife after the party. The story's actually about the man's insecurity and feelings of inadequacy.
Short, Snarky Reactions to Each Story
- "The Sisters": It's over? Really? What was the point?
- "An Encounter": That old guy is freaky. Did he just do what I think he did? Ew. Run away, boys, run away!
- "Araby": Some really nice, poetic lines. And then the boy devolves into a stereotypical shoujo heroine.
- "Eveline": Read it. Then listen to the song "Eveline"
by Cathie Ryan. Hold on to a railing and cry. Then think about something you've been too scared to do, break it down into smaller steps until you find one that's not too scary, and do it.
- "After the Race": Gaining independence is not going to jump-start a colonial power's economy? What? Who knew? Oh, that's right: James Joyce, before the rest of the 20th century proved him correct.
- "Two Gallants": If you have no hope of a better future, you're going to continue your skeezy ways. And things will stay the same, just as you always knew they would. Yay, happy theme.
- "The Boarding House": Watch out, Mama Bear coming through!
- "A Little Cloud": Dude, if you want to write, just write. If you want to talk to your wife, open your mouth. You don't have to go to London to do that. And if you went to London, you'd probably get pickpocketed. Or run over by a car.
- "Counterparts": Tearjerker alert! The ending is heartbreaking.
- "Clay": Wow, Maria's so nice, she sounds like my Aunt Queenie. Hey, James Joyce, stop being mean to Aunt Queenie! Wait, Maria is not Aunt Queenie; she's kind of stupid. Stop being mean to the saintly-but-kind-of-stupid old lady!
- "A Painful Case": If you don't want to be alone, stop thinking you're better than everyone you talk to.
- "Ivy Day in the Committee Room": Man, politics is boring. Especially fake 100+-year-old politics, when I know that the excitement of the subsequent decade will make it all moot.
- "A Mother": Chill out, lady; they said you'd get the money. Geez, you're not listening. Oh, you refuse to let your daughter play? No play, no pay. That really worked to get you your money. Now your daughter won't ever get another gig. Or a suitor. But good for you for insisting that you get paid. Which they were going to do anyway. You should go take some lessons from Mama Bear in "The Boarding House."
- "Grace": Wow, what a scheme, holding an intervention to coerce an alcoholic into attending a retreat. It took you guys forever to come up with that plan. I guess they didn't have A.A. back then. I hope it works.
- "The Dead": Who's going to die? Oh! She's in black. That one's in mourning already. Uh-oh, she's not long for this world. Woah, Nelly, don't fall down the stairs now! Don't leave alone. Don't drink so much, dude. Be careful, it's icy out there! Uh-oh, that dude's sick. No, don't get into a fast carriage! You're not going to kill your wife, are you? Or yourself? Hey, someone die already! What? No one died? Cheap.
Reaction to Dubliners as a Whole
It took James Joyce years to get Dubliners published, and he argued back and forth with publishers about their proposed censorship (one even went so far as to start printing, then destroyed all the books and the original manuscript). The tale of getting the book published was more interesting than some of its tales. I found Dubliners a rather slow read, much harder than even older works such as those by Alcott, Hawthorne, or Franklin (or his contemporary Irishman, Pearse). Like other Irish literature, the stories often have little sidetracks to provide additional background and details, and sentences use techniques borrowed from the Irish language such as fronting, but they're not that hard to get used to (it can help to read to yourself in an Irish accent).The stories are arranged in roughly chronological order by age of the protagonist, and there are references that potentially tie two or more stories together. For example, both "Araby" and "Two Gallants" compare a harp with a woman, perhaps implying that the shoujo-heroine boy will grow up to become one of the gallants. "Eveline" and "Clay" both mention the opera The Bohemian Girl. (No, Evie! You will not become Maria. "It's alright, Eveline.")
Speaking of music, references to songs and operas are scattered throughout the stories; these were all well known to Joyce's contemporaries and were selected deliberately to provide additional meaning to the story. Nothing Joyce places in a story is there accidentally. Dubliners takes place in various neighborhoods around Dublin, referencing actual shops, parks, restaurants, streets, and even tram stops.
The modern reader will probably miss much of the subtext in Dubliners. Mention of a specific neighborhood could tell Joyce's contemporaries whether the character who lived there was Catholic or Protestant, nationalist or apolitical, working or middle class, established society or nouveau riche, Christian Brothers- or TCD- educated. I mentioned the Halloween game from "Clay," but the laundry at which Maria works in that story also had significant meaning to Joyce's contemporaries: most of the girls who worked there were former streetwalkers. This knowledge heightens the perceived level of Maria's naïveté, and paints the teasing of the other girls in a darker light. Dubliners is very much bathed in its time and place, and while you can read it without that background knowledge, understanding it in context will help you more fully grasp Joyce's intent.
Some of the language in Dubliners can be a bit challenging. In "After the Race," I spent two pages trying to decide if Joyce meant by "cars" horse-drawn cars, railcars, or motorcars, before finally concluding he meant motorcars. I tried to puzzle out the meaning of the term "gallant" in "Two Gallants," wondering if it was an oblique reference to homosexuality (it's not; it's a sarcastic title, as in "gallant knight"). "On the turf" means "streetwalking." Many of the other unusual phrases can be figured out from context, but I recommend having the internet near at hand as you read Dubliners.
Joyce's Dubliners examines the lives of a wide slice of the population of early twentieth century Dublin, and it therefore touches on many prevalent "Irish" themes: rampant unemployment and its effects on young, capable workers; alcoholism and its effects on careers and families; the role of the Roman Catholic Church (and to a lesser extent, the Protestant Church) in Irish life and society; music, dancing, and singing; poverty and the class system; Irish nationalism and Ireland's place in the world; and worldliness vs. provincialism.
Though I read them several months apart, I still discovered similarities between Dubliners and Chekhov's The Sea-Gull, contemporaries in time but not in place, language, or medium (short stories vs. a play). Both were written in the decade or two before revolution and major regime change in their respective countries. The collision of dreams vs. reality is a prevalent theme in both works, with little hope blooming by the end of either. While both give little whiffs of the change that is coming to their respective country, it is dismissed as little more than a dream. Both works rely heavily on subtext, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions. Finally, while both are set in a distinct time and place, they are also timeless, still relevant in today's world. There's an (allegedly Irish) proverb that fits both works: Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we're here, we may as well dance. Or write.
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