Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Anyone up for epiphanies?

I have selected three short stories for the next two weeks as a brief interlude before plunging into our next major read. The stories are loosely built around two related themes: connections and epiphanies. So, if you’re in the mood for making connections and/or experiencing epiphanies vicariously, join us as we read the The Dead by James Joyce; Cathedral by Raymond Carver and Lullaby by Leslie Marmon Silko. The stories have the added bonus of being available online.

I’ll set up the discussion thread and links for Cathedral and Lullaby on November 6.

Published in James Joyce’s short story collection, Dubliners (1914), The Dead is a long short story that can be divided into three sections: the party; the transition; the hotel.

With his wife, Gretta, Gabriel Conroy is attending an annual Christmas party hosted by his two elderly aunts and cousin. Gabriel is the first man to enter the story. He is greeted by Lily and eagerly embraced by his aunts. The party proceeds with music, dancing, eating, and drinking. As it draws to a close, Gabriel sees his wife on the stairs, seemingly lost in her thoughts while listening to “The Lass of Aughrim.” Harboring thoughts of romance, Gabriel is eager to return to the hotel room. But his hopes are dashed when his wife reveals a past intimacy with Michael Furey. The story ends with Gabriel looking out of the window at the snow.

Gabriel is the focus of attention in the story. Personally, I find Gretta more interesting. She initially appears as a minor character—as an appendage to Gabriel. But she turns out to be so much more than that. In some ways, she serves as Gabriel’s foil. Her revelation of a past relationship is the catalyst for Gabriel’s transformation.

The story is rich in details that reveal Gabriel’s character. Some things to think about as you read:

Does Gabriel appear comfortable in his surroundings? What is his attitude toward his aunts? His wife? Toward all things Irish? Why does it bother him when Molly Ivors calls him a “West Briton”? How does the choice of where to spend one’s summer vacation dramatize the conflict between Gabriel and Molly Ivors? What is his reaction to Gretta’s image on the stairs? How does he react to her revelation about Michael Furey? And, finally, why is it called The Dead?

I found this link to the story online:
http://www.lonestar.edu/departments/e...

Tamara wrote: "Published in James Joyce’s short story collection, Dubliners (1914), The Dead is a long short story that can be divided into three sections: the party; the transition; the..."

Looking forward to rereading and discussing The Dead this week. One of the high points of a tour of Dublin for me was seeing the hotel where Gabriel and Greta stay after the party. It’s still there!

Susan wrote: "One of the high points of a tour of Dublin for me was seeing the hotel where Gabriel and Greta stay after the party. It’s still there!..."

How wonderful!

I very much recommend James Joyce's Dubliners: An Annotated Edition, annotated by John Wyse Jackson and Bernard McGinley. I believe it is currently out of print, but it's a real gem if you can find it in your local library. Joyce drew from his own personal experience and nearly every detail has some factual, historical,, or biographical basis in the Dublin Joyce knew. The annotations are invaluable for pointing these things out.

Here is another link to The Dead from the entirety of Dubliners from The University of Adelaide that can be read online or downloaded in several formats:

https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/j/joyc...

Susan wrote: "Tamara wrote: "Published in James Joyce’s short story collection, Dubliners (1914), The Dead is a long short story that can be divided into three sections: the party; the ..."

wow!

David wrote: "Here is another link to The Dead from the entirety of Dubliners from The University of Adelaide that can be read online or downloaded in several formats:

https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/j/joyc......"

That's a nice link. Thank you, David.

There are lots of versions of "The Lass of Aughrim" on youtube; one is from John Huston's film, which is wonderful, but I like this one best because the accompanist is playing a guitar owned by James Joyce himself:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AN9Y...

Thomas wrote: "There are lots of versions of "The Lass of Aughrim" on youtube; one is from John Huston's film, which is wonderful, but I like this one best because the accompanist is playing a guitar owned by Jam..."

What a treat! That was lovely. Thank you, Thomas.

A wise wife would have kept this story of a past romance to herself--unless she was looking for a way to stiff-arm her husband, who is passionately in love with her.

Thomas wrote: "There are lots of versions of "The Lass of Aughrim" on youtube ..."

Here are the lyrics:

If you'll be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
That passed between you and me

O don't you remember
That night on yon lean hill
When we both met together
Which I am sorry now to tell

The rain falls on my yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms;
Lord Gregory, let me in

from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk

Roger wrote: "A wise wife would have kept this story of a past romance to herself--unless she was looking for a way to stiff-arm her husband, who is passionately in love with her."

I'm not sure her motive was to "stiff-arm" her husband because she did keep it to herself for a long time. She had bottled it up inside her, but the song triggered her memory of the experience. It was obviously a painful memory. When it finally came out, she couldn't arrest the tears.

She stopped, choking with sobs, and, overcome by emotion, flung herself face downward on the bed, sobbing in the quilt.

She also feels guilty:
“I think he died for me,” she answered.

And I didn't get the sense Gabriel felt strong-armed. I think it had the opposite effect--it brought them closer together.

Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love.

Gary wrote: "Thomas wrote: "There are lots of versions of "The Lass of Aughrim" on youtube ..."

Here are the lyrics:
If you'll be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
Tha..."

Thank you, Gary.

I should begin by saying that I greatly admire this story. Some Joyce I find obtuse, this I found wondrous. To set the scene and follow the action in the first part of the story, the Christmas holiday dance party, Joyce writes such that we are drawn into collaboration with him. At the outset he merely sketches the scene and the characters, and only intimates a story line. We need to fill in the gaps ourselves. To illustrate what I mean, in my imagination I can visualize the dancing room even though Joyce didn’t describe it in any detail, and I feel that I know more about the two ancient sisters than Joyce put to paper. Instead of being a passive receiver of a narrative line, here I needed and wanted to fill in gaps, to flesh out characters, and to create visualizations that filled out scenes and the story.

Toward the close of the story Joyce attempts something nothing less than audacious. To heighten the contrast with what he is about to do, Joyce tells us of Gabriel’s physical yearning for Gretta; her melancholy changes the mood entirely, thereby setting the scene for Joyce to try to describe one of those exceedingly rare and precious moments when those who are fortunate enough to do so experience fleeting seconds of transcendence and wholeness with all that is - the living with the dead, the part with the whole. Epiphany is the word we use, but words fail to capture these moments. Has Joyce succeeded with this? For me, the answer is “no,” but I honor the attempt.

Gary wrote: "Epiphany is the word we use, but words fail to capture these moments. Has Joyce succeeded with this? For me, the answer is “no,” but I honor the attempt.."

Gary, you had me cheering all the way until the end. Why do you think he didn't succeed?

Tamara wrote: "Does Gabriel appear comfortable in his surroundings? What is his attitude toward his aunts? His wife? Toward all things Irish? Why does it bother him when Molly Ivors calls him a “West Briton”? How does the choice of where to spend one’s summer vacation dramatize the conflict between Gabriel and Molly Ivors? "

So much of this story hinges Gabriel's subtle feeling of superiority, which turns out to be alienating as well. He is highly educated and writes about Browning for a Unionist newspaper, but he won't quote Browning in his speech because he fears the lines will "be above the head of his listeners." (He does quote himself, however.) He tries to ingratiate himself with Lily by giving her money and fails. He feels slightly humiliated by Molly Ivors' insinuation that he's a "West Briton," and not a true Irishman. The galoshes he makes his wife wear are a continental fashion, which she, a simple country woman from Galway, finds amusing. And ultimately she too rebuffs his advances. He longs to "master her strange mood" and "to crush her body against his, to overmaster her." The Nietzschean overtones are ironic, and I assume intentional.

Gabriel thinks highly of himself, he's well respected and loved. Despite this he lacks self-confidence. The word Joyce uses for him is "diffident."

His epiphany at the end is that the world does not in fact revolve around him. He lets go of his silent superiority in the face of death. Strangely, it turns out this knowledge is not disappointing or tragic -- it's liberating. "His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world"... and "his soul swoons."

Tamara wrote: "And I didn't get the sense Gabriel felt strong-armed. I think it had the opposite effect--it brought them closer together.

Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love."

I'm curious -- why do you think it brings them closer together? It's such a strange, and powerfully honest admission. He understands Michael Furey to have loved Gretta more than he himself does, and that he doesn't really know what that kind of love is. Does that open up new possibilities for him?

It was a nice nudge to re-read this story and in English now (I hope to do the same with Ulysses... well I hope).

I have forgotten how crowded it is. In the memory was the filling of loneliness, the crowd around I forget. Indeed very powerful peace with minimal means. And as usually Joyce left the final open to reader's interpretation.

Thomas wrote: "I'm curious -- why do you think it brings them closer together? It's such a strange, and powerfully honest admission..."

When Gabriel is asked by Molly Ivors whether he plans to go to the Aran Isles in the summer, she reminds him that Gretta would enjoy it since she came from there. He replies her people come from there--as if he is trying to distance his wife from her place of origin. He has an issue with Ireland and all things Irish:

“0, to tell you the truth,” retorted Gabriel suddenly, “I'm sick of my own country, sick of it."

Molly Ivors has tapped into that and calls him a "West Briton."

But then there's a change. He cries "generous tears" when Gretta sleeps. And at the very end, after he realizes he is not the center of the universe, that he has never experienced the passion of Michael Furey, that his wife's tears are not about him, and that death will claim us all, he lets go of his superiority (as you put it), and he embraces Ireland and his wife's Irish heritage:

The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward.

I read that to mean he will take her to the Aran Isles.

Unlike Gabriel, Gretta is comfortable around people and is sensitive to the needs of others. She embraces her Irish heritage and tolerates her husband’s attempts to transform her into a West Briton—even wearing galoshes to please him. She is a generous and compassionate spirit (nursed his mother during her long illness), and is capable of deep feeling.

It’s as if Gabriel “sees” Gretta at the end of the story. He recognizes his own failures and he sees and accept her as she is—not as someone he wants to remake in his own image. He sees she has harbored a deep sorrow and has been loved with a passion that, until now, he has been incapable of showing her. He embraces her, embraces her heritage, and agrees to take her home for their holiday.

Tamara wrote: "The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward.

I read that to mean he will take her to the Aran Isles.

"

Thanks. That sounds right; I read it as part of his rumination on death, since it is *his* journey now, rather than hers or theirs. A journey to the west, toward the setting sun, is classically one toward death or conclusion. Joyce loves dual meanings, so I expect he meant to evoke both.

Thomas wrote: "A journey to the west, toward the setting sun, is classically one toward death or conclusion. Joyce loves dual meanings, so I expect he meant to evoke both..."

I think so, too, especially since he is seeing visions of the dead. His journey westward is a recognition that he, too, will die. But his journey westward is also hers and theirs since he gets to decide where they will go on their vacation.

Tamara wrote: "Why do you think he didn't succeed?..."

I think this depends upon the kind, or kinds, of experience one thinks Joyce is trying to describe as he closes the story. If it’s an eureka moment for Gabriel of awareness of his love for Gretta, then ‘yes,’ Joyce has done it. If it’s coming to terms with mortality, then ‘yes’ too. The epiphany I keyed in on, however, was closer to what Webster defines as a “sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something; an intuitive grasp of reality through something … usually simple and striking.” Joyce writes, “His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead” ... continuing through ... “His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” These are ineffable moments. Instead of saying that Joyce failed, I should have said that words fail.

Tamara wrote: "Thomas wrote: "I'm curious -- why do you think it brings them closer together? It's such a strange, and powerfully honest admission..."

When Gabriel is asked by Molly Ivors whether he plans to go ..."

I’m not convinced that westward here is a literal going on vacation. I don’t see anywhere in the text where Greta indicates she wants to go to visit the Aran islands, and I don’t see anything that indicates that Molly Ivors knows Greta better than her husband does—in fact, she isn’t sure exactly what Greta’s connection to the Aran Islands is. Perhaps, I’m biased in this interpretation by having read the journals of John Synge’s visit to the Aran islands in the 1890s, when he travelled there at the suggestion of W B Yeats primarily to study Gaelic which still survived in that relatively isolated and elemental place where people made a bare living with fishing, seaweed collecting, and farming.

Of course at the time of the story, Ireland was still ruled by the British, and there was a great interest in Ireland in reviving their own culture and language of Gaelic in a tide of Irish nationalism that would eventually contribute to independence (at least for the southern and central portions). Molly Ivors is a representative of that trend, and Gabriel is not. His claiming English as his language may be mainly factual, but there’s definitely a political context which I don’t know enough to dissect — just to identify as a strand.

I’ll add that though I see Gabriel as a flawed character, I think all the characters have their limitations. I can also see a gift of galoshes and worrying about his wife’s health as a manifestation of his love, and Greta’s joking about it with his aunts seems affectionate.

Gary wrote: "“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” These are ineffable moments. Instead of saying that Joyce failed, I should have said that words fail..."

Thank you for the clarification, Gary. That sounds better :)

Susan wrote: "I’m not convinced that westward here is a literal going on vacation. I don’t see anywhere in the text where Greta indicates she wants to go to visit the Aran islands, and I don’t see anything that indicates that Molly Ivors knows Greta better than her husband does—in fact, she isn’t sure exactly what Greta’s connection to the Aran Islands is...."

Susan, this is where I see it:

“. . . What row had you with Molly Ivors?”
“No row. Why? Did she say so?”
“Something like that. I'm trying to get that Mr. D'Arcy to sing. He's full of conceit, I think."
"There was no row,” said Gabriel moodily, “only she wanted me to go for a trip to the west of Ireland and I said I wouldn't.”
His wife clasped her hands excitedly and gave a little jump.
“O, do go, Gabriel,” she cried. “I'd love to see Galway again.”
“You can go if you like,” said Gabriel coldly.

The story opens with the spotlight on Lily, the maidservant. Then it moves to others, and Lily only appears for a few brief moments. What's up with that? It seemed like I was given a false scent.

Tamara wrote: "Susan wrote: "I’m not convinced that westward here is a literal going on vacation. I don’t see anywhere in the text where Greta indicates she wants to go to visit the Aran islands, and I don’t see ..."

Thanks, Tamara, I missed that. I’ll have to read again

Roger wrote: "The story opens with the spotlight on Lily, the maidservant. Then it moves to others, and Lily only appears for a few brief moments. What's up with that? It seemed like I was given a false scent."

Good question. I have a couple of ideas:

I think by opening with Lily, Joyce does a number of things:

First of all, he is able to provide background on the setting, the aunts and niece, their annual party, and their guests.

Second, he does it for dramatic effect. Everyone is anxiously awaiting the arrival of Gabriel. We hear about him before we see him. It reminds me of what Euripides does in the Medea. We hear about her through the voices of the nurse, the tutor, and the chorus of women before she actually shows up on the stage. So, we anxiously await her arrival. Joyce does something similar with Gabriel. He sets him up as the central character with everyone anxiously awaiting his arrival.

And finally, and perhaps more importantly, we get to see Gabriel in action. He has known Lily since she was a child, but he is still very uncomfortable around her. He is afraid he has said something to offend her. His face colors. He fiddles about with his shoes. And he dashes upstairs after giving her some money. Through his reaction to Lily, we see Gabriel as painfully self-conscious, awkward, and unable to connect with others. This becomes increasingly evident as the story progresses.

I don’t know if this makes any sense. Hopefully, someone can offer alternative ways of reading it.

Susan wrote: "Thanks, Tamara, I missed that. I’ll have to read again.."

No worries, Susan. We're all here to learn from each other and to share different perspectives.

Roger wrote: "The story opens with the spotlight on Lily, the maidservant. Then it moves to others, and Lily only appears for a few brief moments. What's up with that? It seemed like I was given a false scent."

It's interesting to compare Lily, who opens the story, with Gretta at the end. Both of them walk in Gabriel's shadow, and yet they have a certain kind of power over him. Lily is merely a servant but she is able to make Gabriel feel discomposed by speaking her mind about men. They're "all palaver and what they can get out of you." Gabriel coulours and is made uncomfortable by this response. And then he tries to give her a coin, which she initially refuses. She doesn't fit the servant role very well.

Gretta doesn't fit the role of subservient wife very well either, though she obviously respects and loves Gabriel and she plays the role of wife as well as Lily does the role of servant. I don't think Gretta intends to hurt Gabriel's feelings or "overmaster" him, the way he would her in his fantasy world, but she does so unwittingly in a way similar to Lily's: she speaks her mind, in her case by explaining her emotional reaction to the "Lass of Aughrim."

An side note about the opening line: "Lily, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet."

"Literally" is a cliche and would appear to be a stylistic mistake; it sounds at first as if Lily herself, or someone like her, is the narrator of the story, but the story doesn't maintian this colloquial tone for long. This is an example of what critics call the "Uncle Charles Principle" (from a similar usage in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man). From time to time the narrator in Joyce's fiction takes on the tone of the character in the scene. Joyce began to use this technique more and more as he developed his style.

Thomas wrote: "This is an example of what critics call the "Uncle Charles Principle" (from a similar usage in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man)..."

I had not heard of the "Uncle Charles Principle" before. I had to look it up. Very interesting.

I have not participating in discussion but it was a wonderful experience to reread the story following this discussion -- it greatly improved my inner dialogue. Thank you all!

Alexey wrote: "I have not participating in discussion but it was a wonderful experience to reread the story following this discussion -- it greatly improved my inner dialogue. Thank you all!"

I'm glad you enjoyed it, Alexey.

Thanks for the interim reads, Tamara—interesting readings and discussion.

Susan wrote: "Thanks for the interim reads, Tamara—interesting readings and discussion."

You're welcome, Susan. I'm glad you enjoyed them. And thank you for participating in the discussion. I appreciated your comments and insights.