I make this point on three bases: a JSTOR article, my edition's notes, and Lynch.
The most relevant quote from the JSTOR article: "The author's attitude toward Stephen becomes one of estrangement." Several of the notes also point out flaws in Stephen's aesthetic theories, including various misunderstandings of Aquinas' theories, a "characteristic romantic gloss," and a striking similarity to the thought of Gerard Manely Hopkins. Essentially, I think Joyce makes fun of Stephen, perhaps more viciously than at any other point.
On his walk to the university, Stephen imagines the landscape as a series of literary allusions, cutting himself off from the world around him, the very thing he promised to value at his last epiphany. How can he err if he removes himself from the world? The note complains that he creates a "world that runs parallel to the actual world he inhabits." The words of Artistotle and Aquinas are "spectral." During his long speech to Lynch, who listens because of the very worldly pleasure of a cigarette, the occasional interruptions seems to mock Stephen's sometimes inaccurate comments. Lynch, though Stephen seems a unaware, jokes openly ("Let us take woman, said Stephen. Let us take her! said Lynch fervently.) and seemingly unnecessary interruptions like "a long dray laden with old iron" occur.
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| A dray |
What is up with this dray? I think there are two possibilities. Maybe when Joyce discoursed as an undergraduate this dray interrupted him. Otherwise, and I have to credit this to the JSTOR article in part, the objective narrator decides to break Stephen's speech just before he begins his dissertation on the nature of beauty. Why, except to indicate something problematic?
The heavy use of dialogue by Stephen emphasizes the point. We cannot access his consciousness in the same way by listening to him speak so impersonally. It marks a decided shift in our relation to Stephen, but it does not persist into the next subsection and I'm not sure what to do with it as a result. I think that something about Stephen has suddenly become hidden. Davin, the only one to call Stephen by name, mentions a "night in Harcourt Street" when Stephen's statements left Davin deeply disturbed. What is that incident? What is Stephen hiding? How is he hiding anything? What is happening with the narration?
One interesting piece of Jack's post is his analysis of the “dray laden with iron” and the questions raised by the interruption in the narrative, or at least the interruption of the unceasing and pretentious philosophizing of Stephen and Lynch on lofty topics like aesthetics and beauty. Why the interruption? The image of the dray, dragged by workhorses through streets full of animal waste (“mouldering offal” (189)), puts a stop to the highly intellectual and abstract discussion. Concrete reality invades the artificial world that Stephen (and Lunch, at the time) are inhabiting. Joyce may be mocking Stephen’s being out of touch with reality. But he may also be lamenting the reality of the filthy and poor city of Dublin. The dray reminds me of a specific instance in "The Sisters" where Eliza mistakenly describes the wheels on the “new-fangled carriages” as “rheumatic.” Rheumatic, the medical term for certain inflammations causing disease, is used for “pneumatic,” and Eliza’s usage highlights her and other Dubliners’ ignorance that Stephen resents. Those wheels of ignorance and poverty keep going in circles, much like the wheels of the "old dray laden with old iron." Joyce, in both cases, is commenting on the circular-ness of Ireland at the time. Like the wheels, Ireland is stuck in a paralytic, inescapable cycle.
ReplyDeleteI'm reconsidering some of the comments I made in class about Stephen's long discourse on philosophy. It is clear that Lynch is antagonizing Stephen, and that Stephen isn't in full control of the works he is citing. But what are the clues to self-deprecation v. support of developing his philosophy? In response to part of Stephen's speech: "Bull's eye again! said Lynch wittily. Tell me now what is claritas and you win the cigar."(187) What does the "wittily" mean in terms of intention?
ReplyDeleteStephen basically ignores or dismisses his insulting attitude and continues to speak as in "I have a book at home in which I have written down questions more amusing than yours were" (188). Lynch is just Stephen's audience. Stephen doesn't really resent his joking attitude too much as he seems to be paying enough attention to boost Stephen's ego - that a peer is listening, somewhat engaged, to his speech. Overall, I think we can say that characterization of Stephen as narcissistic is supported, possibly with self-deprecation. But "wittily" might also be sarcastic, which would support Joyce's approval of Stephen's development.
I interpreted the first section of chapter V as Stephen seeing himself as maturing by quoting philosophers and displaying his newfound knowledge to his friends. I think that Stephen still retains some of that arrogant “nerdy” personality we saw at the beginning of the book, as he believes that he can only academically progress by showing off. However, after his epiphany at the end of chapter IV, in which Stephen decided to fully experience the world and to accept failure/sin as an inevitable part of life, his progress takes a step back. We see him fall back into his singular mindset of separating himself from his peers. As Jack pointed out, Stephen is in his own parallel universe and Lynch only serves as an audience. Stephen is so obsessed with his “discovery” of Aristotle, Aquinas, and Lessing that he is oblivious to the fact – or just doesn’t care - that Lynch is poking fun at Stephen’s philosophical passion: “That’s a lovely one, said Lynch laughing again. That has the true scholastic stink. Lessing, said Stephen, should not have taken a group of statues to write about” (188). Does Stephen’s inability – or simple refusal - to connect with his peers set him apart as an artist? Is Joyce criticizing this separation? I think so.
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