Dubliners summary

Quick links to the posts on Dubliners:

A few links to online resources about James Joyce

Online text of Dubliners at Project Gutenberg

Dubliners discussion: The Sisters, An Encounter, Araby, Eveline, After the Race, Two Gallants
Dubliners discussion: The Boarding House, A Little Cloud, Counterparts, Clay, A Painful Case
Dubliners discussion: Ivy Day in the Committee Room, A Mother, Grace
Dubliners discussion: The Dead

The Dead (1987 movie)

The Dead (1987 movie)

One of the best adaptations from page to screen I’ve seen. You definitely have to be in the mood for a period piece, but the acting is superb. There are a few minor changes from the story, mostly in the way of additions, but the movie stays true.

In moving the story to the screen, there will be points that suffer in the translation. The ending, where the last few paragraphs are done as a voice-over by Gabriel (Donal McCann), is probably the only possible way to communicate his thoughts. Yet it doesn’t feel as powerful as the story where the viewpoint was constantly moving from first-person to third-person. While the scene was not bad (and follows the well-done tearful telling of Michael Furey’s demise), it suffers in comparison.

Fortunately there are scenes that improve on the screen. Seeing Aunt Julia’s “greyness” throughout, even when not part of the main scene, drives home her fragility and age. Instead of Joyce’s “clear and strong in tone” when singing “Arrayed for the Bridal,” we hear a noticeably feeble voice. Combined with the camera panning through the apartment, showing acquisitions and memories through the years, it is a potent reminder of the weakening of age and impending death.

The scene with Gretta on the stairs, listening to Bartell D'Arcy sing, lingers much longer than the book. Being able to see Gretta go through the range of emotions during and after the song is visually powerful. Anjelica Huston, who I’ve never seen so beautiful as here, is cast in front of a stained-glass window on the stairs, reminiscent of a Madonna portrait.

All in all, well done and I highly recommend it. What the movie loses in the conversion to screen (which fortunately isn’t much), it offsets by taking advantage of visual and vocal aspects available to the medium. A very minor point, but one that serves as an example of this addition is the movie poster itself. While dancing or in an embrace, Gretta is partially in the light while Gabriel is completely in the shadows—it could be Gabriel or Michael she is dancing with, and it could emphasize how we will all be shades. A nice touch that highlights the additional dimensions which can be realized through the different medium.

Movie poster from moviegoods.com

Dubliners discussion: The Dead

This was my first exposure to “The Dead” and I found it quite powerful and moving. So far in Dubliners there has been much bitterness and frustration with only glimpses of the humanity underneath. In "The Dead," the emphasis has been reversed. Since it would be easy to write a piece as long as the story itself, I’ll limit myself to just a few points.

Gabriel Conroy, upon first inspection, seems a likeable enough man. He obviously loves his wife (books a hotel room for the night in order to avoid the previous year’s issues on the drive home, feels warmth and desire toward her), respects his aunts (attends every party, listens to every excruciating performance), shoulders his duties (frets over his speech, carves the goose)…in short he is a nice guy. A bit stuffy perhaps, as his condescension towards the other guests probable inability to “get” Robert Browning, but still likeable. Yet something feels lie it is missing. At first it might appear his response to Miss Ivors of "I'm sick of my own country, sick of it!" holds the key, but that is only part of it. As with the misunderstandings and miscommunications of the entire evening, there is something else going on.

While he hasn’t really discovered or examined his own country, it soon becomes apparent that he hasn’t even examined himself or his wife. Miss Ivors introduces the West (authentic) vs. East (dead-end cities) tension, which Gabriel escapes by leaving Ireland whenever he can. Up to this point in Dubliners you feel this is exactly Joyce’s feeling, that those wishing to tie themselves to Ireland can not succeed. Yet Gabriel comes to realize that he can not completely escape, that the past and location shapes and molds the person. There is interdependency between the living and the dead that Joyce has dramatized often within Dubliners, from the opening pages in “Two Sisters” to the last sentence in “The Dead.” What Gabriel lacks is true consciousness, and when he sees what his wife has experienced with Michael he is transformed. In a slow awakening, he sees his own failings and shortsightedness, connecting to her and thus to himself.

The transformation process within Gabriel is amazing to watch. At first he appears as a cuckolded husband, realizing his wife loved Michael in a way she hasn’t loved him. But it’s not that she doesn’t love Gabriel. How can he compete with someone that died because of love for her? Gabriel takes the first step by understanding her pain that she has hidden for all these years, empathizing with her and overcoming his jealousy. He carries that over to himself as he sees himself as he truly is, losing his identity and aloneness to join the greater world. He realizes he must “set out on his journey westward,” understanding the past and the dead in order to fully comprehend and appreciate the living. The imagery in the last paragraph, with the constant repetition of the word “falling,” highlights the love filling him as “his soul swooned”. A beautiful ending to an incredibly moving passage.

“The Dead” is so much better than the stories that preceded it in Dubliners, yet it doesn’t feel tacked on or out of place. It’s as if the previous stories set it up, letting the reader really understand what is going on with many of the characters without having to explain anything. You grasp what Lily means in her frustrations having seen several domestics already. Freddy needs no explanation as drunkards litter the preceding pages. What is different is the quality of the writing. I had to laugh at the following passage:

”Gabriel could not listen while Mary Jane was playing her Academy piece, full of runs and difficult passages, to the hushed drawing-room. He liked music but the piece she was playing had no melody for him and he doubted whether it had any melody for the other listeners, though they had begged Mary Jane to play something.”

That described how I felt about the previous stories which were hit or miss, the frills sometimes outshining the ‘melody’. “The Dead” pulls many of the themes together, coalescing them into something greater than the sum of their parts. The interrelationship between living and dead and seeing someone else as well as yourself for the first time is a powerful experience. Despite the handicaps Joyce lays out within Dubliners (politics, religion, poverty and drink among others), it is nice to see a ray of hope at the end of what can be a depressing read at times. That Gabriel moves from the living dead to being truly alive ends the book with guarded optimism.

Title page image is from Yale University’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library online. You can find all stories from Dubliners as well as other James Joyce treasures by going here and doing a search on 'Joyce'.

Dubliners discussion: Ivy Day in the Committee Room, A Mother, Grace

A paper at “The Modern Word” on Charles Stewart Parnell will give background helpful for “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” and his inclusion in Joyce’s work. The Wikipedia entry on Parnell gives more details on his life, accomplishments and failures.

I did not really connect with “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” the first time I read it. Who cares about political banter a century later? Yet the second time through some things began to resonate for me. The yearning for Parnell, the potential never realized, symbolizes almost the entire book so far. Most of the characters in Dubliners feel that fate has dealt them, the city and the country a bad hand but they do little to shape their own future.

Politics is a religion for the characters in this story, raising mundane things and actions to exalted heights. While the men obsess about politics and power, I can’t see any character that you would want anywhere near control. Most are described as incompetent, solely canvassing in order to earn a little extra money (or booze). These men are followers, content to whine and complain about current times while mourning the old days and what might have been. They can’t even trust each other, suspecting informers and traitors in their midst.

There is a nice moment where much respect is shown Father Keon, “a black sheep” priest who echoes Father Flynn in “The Sisters.” On top of beginning to see characters from stories weave in and out of other stories, counterparts for comparison and contrast have been showing up as well. The poor domestic at the end of “Two Gallants,” used simply for sex and money, has her equivalent with Mr. Doran in “The Boarding House.” In “Counterparts” and “Little Cloud” you see the powerlessness of fatherhood for two very different men. There are many others that seem to have similar themes or critical moments, such as a failure to act in “Eveline” and “A Painful Case.”

Even though the men are probably working only for the money, the reader gets the feeling they will never see their wages since they drink up their pay from the candidate’s pub. There are clearly three ‘legs’ of support to the Dublin stool: religion, politics and booze. The characters claim “we have our ideals”, but they don’t have the ways or the desire to live up to them. Symbolic gestures replace substantive action. One interesting thing highlighted is the lack of industry in Dublin, the mention of idle factories contrasts with the paucity of other employment mentioned in the book. The rare good job mentioned is usually with the government.

At the end of the tale, the poem laments what might have been but by this point in the book I don’t think it unfair to question whether Parnell would have lived up to expectations. After being sold out by his own countrymen, it probably isn’t unrealistic to wonder if he made his best career move by dying young. Given the reverie Joe Hynes felt in reciting his poem, the answer may be yes.

“A Mother”, on the other hand, didn’t really connect with me even the second time through. Joyce’s commentary on the arts in Dublin, or lack thereof, feels like a museum specimen. As sympathetic as Mrs. Holohan can be, and as correct as she can be as at times (the baritone mentions he had been paid), her sabotaging of her daughter’s career and reputation is unforgivable. After the investment of time, effort and money, to toss it all aside so easily feels forced.

“Grace,” on the other hand, was a joy to read. Irony drips from every description and conversation. The depth of friendship is tested, where the intentions are usually good-intentioned but the results are found lacking. Also, societal and relational hierarchies are again shown. Mrs. Keenan is one of the few wholly sympathetic characters in the book, her realistic and modest expectations are refreshing in contrast to the false idealism of the male characters.

The level of ignorance about religious doctrine would be amusing if it weren’t for the religious divide in the country. As for much of what is shown for Dublin, the divisions may result from deep differences but in practice are only superficially understood. Societal institutions fail to fully address the problems shown in Dubliners, whether the government, religion or marriage.

So where is the grace mentioned in the tale’s title? Certainly not in Father Purdon’s limp sermon, aimed at businessmen and adopting commercial language. Rather, it seems, the grace comes from the bedside community aimed at reforming Mr. Kernan and especially the drink consumed. Joyce’s attitude toward his characters can only be discerned through the ironical use of language, whether in descriptions or in the titles (“Two Gallants” is another great example). Despite Joyce’s claim of “scrupulous meanness,” once again some rays of hope peek through in the friends’ well-intentioned actions. Even though the actions are ironic (drinking around a drunkard’s bed in order to help reform him) or ineffectual (Father Purdon’s sermon is going to have a superficial impact at best), the humanity shown in everyday occurrences still reveals hope.

Next: “The Dead”

Dubliners discussion: The Boarding House, A Little Cloud, Counterparts, Clay, A Painful Case

Continuing the summary at a clip that makes it difficult to write about everything (Joyce is especially rich on imagery and symbolism), I’ll carry on with major items from these stories.

The average age of the main character(s) in each story increases as the novel unfolds. Many of the same themes that I mentioned in the previous post are present here, with some additional themes surfacing. Religion is still apparent both in activity (the priest in “The Boarding House” wanting to know every detail of Mr. Mooney’s affair with Polly) and in language (Polly described as a “perverse little madonna” and at the end she falls into a “revery”). The pervasiveness of sex is matched only by its damaging or furtive display. (A side note—I wonder if I’m reading “Higgins never had anything for himself. A man, with two establishments to keep up, of course he couldn’t….” correctly.) Money is a constant focus for most characters, usually in conjunction with their pitiful state. Politics plays a slightly more active role in these stories than the first group, but it has yet to be front and center like it will in upcoming stories. And death is a fairly frequent occurrence or reference again.

Escape in one form or another resonates throughout these stories, tied in with the disappointment or frustration that most characters feel. Sometimes it is actual escape from Dublin, as in “A Little Cloud” where Little Chandler states “If you wanted to succeed you had to go away” to somewhere else. But the escape can also be from marriage (the same story, “A Painful Case” and “The Boarding House”) or from reality. The latter occurs a lot through drink, but can also be seen in Mr. Duffy’s slavish routines in “A Painful Case”. Alcohol consumption is prodigious in many of these stories, sometimes as a social institution but often alone. Despite the occasional humanity that warms through Joyce’s self-professed meanness, the cruelty surfaces more through the characters’ hopelessness, as well as the violence lurking just under the surface. Most characters have an isolated or “alone” component, even the most gregarious.

Relationship dynamics comes more into focus in this section as well. There was some in earlier stories (between the two boys as well as with children from other social classes in “An Encounter”), but it is much more central here. It occurs between worker and boss (most of “Counterparts” and even asides like Joe in “Clay” bragging about his smart retort to his boss), friends (“A Little Cloud” and especially “Two Gallants”), social classes, and generations. In the dominant/subservient relationships stressed in the stories, it isn’t always clear that the dominant person is deserving of their superior status.

Joyce makes several comments on artistic merit in these stories. “A Little Cloud” becomes one extended statement on the Celtic revival writing, especially highlighting that melancholy and allusions are all it takes to be a successful practitioner (at least as judged by the public). Critics and the public get abused again in “A Painful Case” by Mr. Duffy, who feels above “an obtuse middle class which entrusted its morality to policemen and its fine arts to impresarios.” His self-centeredness fails to inspire much sympathy to his plight, however.

The narration continues in a similar manner—description punctuated with occasional action. Many times where there is action, it all happens “offscreen” so to speak (especially in “The Boarding House”). Minor things are seen in multiple stories such as Balfe’s opera “The Bohemian Girl” or locations in the city. The exactness of Dublin as portrayed by Joyce feels dry and overdone, but it obviously meant a lot to him. Maybe the precision was simply meant to add legitimacy to his stories. Dublin itself feels like a character in the book, yielding much to the melancholy of the tales. I began to wonder how much influence the city had on the characters, though. Are they losers or underachievers because they are in Dublin or would they fail to do much regardless of where they were located? More on this thoughtin the next post. Either way, Joyce seems to imply that Dublin and the disappointed greatness it could have achieved did not contribute a hospitable or nourishing environment for the characters.

Next stories: “Ivy Day in the Committee Room,” “A Mother,” and “Grace.”

Dubliners discussion: The Sisters, An Encounter, Araby, Eveline, After the Race, Two Gallants

The online text for Dubliners can be found at Project Gutenberg.

More detail than almost anyone needs, but here is an online concordance for Dubliners.

I just discovered The Modern Word site. Their review of Dubliners can be found here. In addition to some useful links for the book, they include this explanation of the work by Joyce to his would-be publisher:

“My intention was to write a chapter of the moral history of my country and I chose Dublin for the scene because that city seemed to be the centre of paralysis. I have tried to present it to the indifferent public under its four aspects: childhood, adolescence, maturity, and public life. The stories are arranged in this order. I have written in for the most part in a style of scrupulous meanness....”

While I find most of what he says true, it doesn’t fully capture the collection of stories and overstates the ‘paralysis’ angle. In no certain order, I find the following things permeate the stories so far: disappointment, religion, ambiguity, irony, sex, politics, money, and death. Instead of using paralysis as a descriptor, I’d say the feeling is more of stagnation. And despite his claim of “scrupulous meanness,” there is a warm humanity at times that breaks through all the negativity.

The disappointments are numerous in the book. A partial list of the stories so far would include Father Flynn’s failed career in the church, the two boys in “An Encounter” failing to make it to the Pigeon House, the boy in “Araby” let down by his uncle and ultimately himself, Eveline staying with her family instead of a chance for happiness abroad, and Lenahan’s dissatisfaction with his life. The disappointment accumulates so that each one adds to the overall feeling of dread and depression. The characters’ disenchantment with Dublin itself (or their life there) is palpable at times.

Religion permeates the stories as well, through religious characters (Father Flynn, Joe Dillon joining the priesthood, the priest who died in the “Araby” house, etc.), in the language Joyce uses (Lenahan is described as Corley’s “disciple”), and in some of the action (the odd communion feel to the snack served by Father Flynn’s sisters). Even though religion courses through life in the stories, it rarely seems to be of any comfort or use to the characters.

The narration of the stories definitely has an impact on meaning. Usually Joyce simply shows what is happening—description without explanation. While straightforward, the language is dense at times. The first three stories are told by each main character looking back on his youth. Their language and insights reflect the ability to explain what they couldn’t when young. Using this approach allows Joyce to work back and forth, between current thought and what he felt then. This is a lead-in to the next stories where the narration seamlessly modulates back and forth between first and third person. Most of the time you can only decipher Joyce’s feeling toward his characters because of the language he uses.

This approach to narration yields much ambiguity and irony. For the former, you’re left to ponder what really caused Father Flynn breakdown. What does the pervert in “An Encounter” really do when he goes off by himself? Doyle, the Irish character in “After the Race” is easily led and directed, a shell of a person. He (and I’m sure meant to represent all of Ireland) is dependent on others for everything. Irony is pervasive as well, both for comic and tragic effect. Seeing Father Flynn hold a chalice in his coffin when he was famous for dropping one was extremely humorous and poignant. After meeting Corley and Lenahan, it is easy to see Joyce’s irony in titling the story “Two Gallants”—they are anything but gallant. Yet the supposed meanness that Joyce declares falls short as he also lets us hear Lenahan’s limited view of happiness.

Not much needs to be said about sex since it is present in many of the stories, except that most of it is not a healthy display. And in addition to the mystery of Father Flynn’s breakdown is the implication that he may have had syphilis (as well as the older Cotter’s hints that the relationship between the priest and the boy is unhealthy). Likewise, money is a frequent major topic as well. The one exception where money was plentiful was in “After the Race,” but even then the need to invest it somewhere other than Dublin illuminates the stagnation of the city.

That little changes in Dublin, a place with limited opportunities, is constantly highlighted. The numerous characters that die or have already passed away are usually presented as better off than when they were alive in Dublin. One easy criticism of Dubliners is that nothing much happens, but that ignores the activity that leads up to the current slice-of-life on display. The stagnation of the characters' actions and lives highlights the same for the city. Despite Joyce's "paralysis," there is a warmth of character occasionally present.

My main criticism is that the “epiphanies” the book is famous for, revelations that are supposed to resonate within the reader and not necessarily the characters, seem like limited advances in self-awareness. They just don't have that "a-ha" feeling for me, much less cause any frissons. For example, Eveline’s refusal to leave is already prefigured in her realization that things aren’t so bad (when faced with the prospect of leaving). The main character in "Araby" realizes he’s not as grown-up as he would like to think, hardly inspiring as an epiphany.

Offsetting that complaint, however, is the richness of the language. Read the following sentence from “Araby” out loud and feel the poetry, both of language and of ordinary life:

The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness.”