The End.

I found the end of the novel very relaxing compared to the endings of the other novels we read. There was nothing too depressing and Stephen seems to be very content in his choice. While he chooses to leave the church and religion, one could say that he was "forced" out because of the structure of it and how unappealing that was to him. I do not think he was forced out. I think the Stephen made the choice for himself and made his own path, contrary to what his family would have liked. The ending of this novel reminds me of the son in Achebe's novel, Things Fall Apart. (His name has slipped my mind at the moment, and I do not have the book with me). He was able to choose religion over his African culture, contrary to what his father thinks is right. He too, seems pleased with his decision and in no way was forced. Unlike Stephen and his ending, is Tambu in The Book of Not, where she seems forced into her job where she is treated unfairly and does not have any say in what she wants. Although she is does ultimately choose to leave, she seems forced to leave too by her apartment owner and those she works with for lack of credit. I find it interesting that the two characters that I have mentioned that got a "happy ending" are both male and the one that ended up with the less fortunate ending was female. It makes me wonder if it's not only colonization that plays a part in their life, but ultimately, gender.

Prompt

For this week, think about the ending of A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and consider how it differs from and/or agrees with the endings of other novels that we've read thus far. How do the various novels we've read this semester deal with the problem of endings under colonial rule?

Ngugi's new childhood memoirs

There's a new book by Ngugi wa Thiong'o out that's relevant to this class:

Dreams in a Time of War is described as A Childhood Memoir, and part of its considerable appeal is the childhood perspective that Ngũgĩ maintains for the most part: realistically, much of the adult (and larger political) world remains distant and not well understood. Nevertheless, political and social upheaval have an effect even on the child's life, and Ngũgĩ's portrait is also an effective one of this era -- 'a time of war' that first saw many locals sent to fight in the colonial power's conflict (World War II) and then an escalating civil conflict that resulted in the Mau Mau uprising. Ngũgĩ's ambit remains a very tightly circumscribed one -- the first time he even just gets on a train is near the end of his account, when he is in his late teens and sets off to a nearby school. This is a memoir of rural Kenyan life, with, for example, the metropolis of Nairobi as distant as any spot on earth and yet it offers a great deal of insight into life in Kenya in the 1940s and 1950s.

Is modernism pretentious?

I am forming a terrible habit of ignoring the prompt for these thingies. oh well.

This is more or less about our discussion of how the English language is highly allusive. One of the suggestions put forth in class is that our modern education system is inadequate for studying Joyce because it doesn't force us to memorize Tenyson and Byron. While it is true the focus and intensity of the study of English has shifted (for good or for ill), the language of modernism seems so intense and so convoluted that it would take an incredible amount of knowledge to decipher it. Mr. Shingavi suggested that it is impossible to get through Joyce's Ulysses without someone to hold your hand through it. I understand that art has a target audience with a certain set of skills and experiences that allow them to assign value to an art form. However, modernism is so interested in the form of words and with the author's own mind that it becomes harder and harder to understand. The modernist mantra seems to be that the most we can do is understand our own mind. So why write a book about it? If we can barely understand our own thoughts and experiences, then how can we begin to decipher a collection of someone else's writings? Of course, one could argue that Joyce's books are less about narrative and more about words themselves- the subjugation of the subject matter and the exultation of the form.

Now, I personally like this book. I think it's a great read, and just the right mix of wordplay for the sake of wordplay and interesting characters (or character- Stephen is really the only character we see developing). But I think it's easy to see where modernism can get out of hand, making books harder and harder to decipher and the target audience smaller and smaller. At what point does it become pretentious- when is it just writing weird stuff for the sake of writing weird stuff?

I hope this post doesn't get singled out as blasphemous in class on Monday.

Thoughts on the Portrait

I am finding James Joyce’s depiction of a young man growing up in post colonial Ireland and his use of imagery and metaphor to convey the burgeoning subtleties of his theme quite intriguing.
“Stephen tried his best but the sum was too hard and he felt confused. The little silk badge with the white rose on it that was pinned on the breast of his jacket began to flutter” (p 8). I found it interesting that the houses in his school would be characterized by the houses of Lancaster and York. The white rose and the red rose. These two symbols come directly from the war of the roses which was the cause of much political turmoil in England in the 16th century. There is definitely a theme of competition here. Comparing English education to a defacto English civil war I thought was an interesting connection. The opening chapter depicting his boarding school life is full of the raucousness of competition. The scrum and scrimmage of the rugby game correlates to the dog eat dog nature of the students.
“but you could not have a green rose” (pg. 9) – Could the green rose be reminiscent of a clover? Although standards of the Plantagenets of England are quite acceptable is there no room for Irish nationalism in this environment? There is this constant contrasting of the colors red (or maroon) and green. The holly and the vines, his geography book with the green Earth and the maroon clouds, this contrast could serve as a metaphorical contrast to the English ( the red cross of st. Henry) and the green of Ireland.

In the first couple pages we also see a depiction of the railroads. Dadelus describes them as stopping, and starting, then a roar, then stopping then starting. We see this partitioned stop and go, stop and go repeated throughout the description. A couple pages later he relates that his life is “like a train going in and out of tunnels…Term, vacation; tunnel, out; noise, stop.” (p. 14) Here he is describing life in the modern industrial terms of the railroads. Is this a critique on how daily life has changed since the inception of mass transit? Is this a foreshadowing of the modern world to come?

The beginning of "A portrait..."

In the first part of the novel, we are once again confronted with the world from a child’s perspective, which is (sometimes) difficult to follow. What differentiated this novel from the others we have read thus far was the way that Stephen would play with words and rhyme, which reminded me of something that a child would do. I feel like Joyce really captured what an actual child would do. His use of repetition also (like the last couple of novels) added to that “child-like” quality of the novel, even though it makes it tedious to read at times.

While I haven’t completed the novel yet, I can see now why Joyce is so highly praised. His use of language is quite different from any other author that I have read up to this point. And as pointed out in class today, it is interesting to see the shift in the quality of language before and after the encounter with the prostitute, and how in order for one to write at that level, they must first have the experience of “sin”.

What was most impressive about his character was his willingness to stand up for what he believes in, even if caused him trouble. When Heron and the other boy are telling him Tennyson is a better poet than Byron, Stephen tells them he is not, and if that makes Stephen a heretic, so be it. And then Stephen goes and reports his undeserved punishment to the rector. One wonders if this character will continue to be willing to stand up for himself and his belief as the novel progresses.

The Structure of 'A Portrait..'

As I've been reading A Portrait, I've constantly recalled on what I've learned in my 11th grade sociology class: Structuralism proposed by Frederic Jameson. Jameson's idea of structuralism leads to an explicit search for the permanent structures of the mind. Additionally, I think Joyce is phenomenal at demonstrating such process of structure - an organization through which his mind experiences the world or builds meaning to what is essentially meaningless to pioneer a "stream of consciousness." Something as simple as the depths of someone's pockets serves as a unit of language that has a value of meaning to Joyce.

When I speak about Joyce's phenomenon, I mention that there's such a sophistication to his illogical associations to things - Each stage refers to a new world (similar pattern) that is soon superseded but is reminiscent of the former. There's a pattern where Stephen focuses his organization of thought to something motivating (and compelling enough to devote time to). Stephen "senses the cycle of his life well enough to suspect that his triumph at the end... must be followed by a fall."

Thus far, I thought this was a great way to organize the "pattern" of what becomes the cycle of Stephen's triumphs and fall... and its recurrence in the chapters that follow. I haven't finished the last chapter but I perceive it has much to do with college and the development of Stephen's spoken words becoming written and more established.