Thursday, February 12, 2015

Joyce Character Study

     This was the first major essay for the Study of the Novel that I took at Rogers State University during the Spring 2015 semester. 

      The protagonist of James Joyce's A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, Stephen Dedalus, has much in common with one of the protagonists of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, Marianne Dashwood, as well as with the main character of Kate Chopin's The Awakening, Edna Pontellier. Like Marianne, his sensibility hates commonplace expressions passing for witticisms(Austen 38, Joyce 200-06), they each scorn cultural expectations(Austen 124, Joyce 268-69), and they both launch into detailed explanations of their life philosophies at the slightest notice(Austen 31-33, Joyce 211-33). Like Edna, who lives "her own small life within herself" as a child into adulthood, Stephen also externally follows his society's rules, secretly questioning why they exist and what they could mean(Chopin 26, Joyce 88). 
     Similarly, all three lose the love of their lives, whether that's based on reality's appearance or mere fantasy; as Willoughby callously deserts Marianne, Edna leaves Mr. Pontellier and is in turn left by Robert, and Stephen loses Emma. Here, however, a difference emerges. Marianne, after her near-death experience, realizes what a fool she has been and is remorseful about it. She forgives him as much as possible and then moves on with the next chapter of her life, accepting the role she is to play in the world (Austen 300-05). Stephen explicitly states that in his rejected state he will not serve what he does not believe in (Joyce 260, 268). He then exiles himself, leaving his old world full of disappointments behind, letting down all those who have placed their expectations on him (Joyce 267). Edna takes Stephen's position even farther; once her world crumbles, she gives up, stating that she will give up the unessential in her life as a mother, even her life, but not sacrifice herself, later on becoming even clearer in her sentiments: "I don't want anything other than my own way. That is wanting a great deal, of course, when you have to trample upon the hearts, the lives, the prejudices of others - but no matter" (Chopin 88, 184). Edna shortly thereafter commits suicide, just to prove her point (Chopin 188-90).
     In Portrait, Joyce creates a character that is an outsider among everyone, standing on the fringes of everything. As a child, "he thought he was sick in his heart, if you could be sick in that place" and as a teen, his heart is again sick as he thinks about his place in the world: "A leader afraid of his own authority, proud and sensitive and suspicious, battling against the squalor of his life and the riot of his mind" (Joyce 10, 96). Even his name is confounding; "Stephen" was the name of the first Christian martyr, who gave up his earthly life for a more eternal reward, juxtaposed with "Dedalus", as Daedalus was the brilliant Greek engineer who created the Labyrinth and escaped Minos' tower; keeping himself alive while indirectly responsible for the deaths of his son, Icarus, and numerous Athenian youths. 
     When Stephen is unjustly beaten by the unfair, cruel world in the form of Father Dolan's pandybat, he then courageously goes to the rector and complains(Joyce 56-60). Like most of his time at Clongowes, this was an early formative experience, but this time he found out for the first time that priests were not infallible; neither was he helpless. By writing his father quickly for a new pair of glasses, and then speaking to the rector shortly after the humiliating punishment, he could to some small extent control what life throws in his way in order to improve his journey. 
     At Belvedere during the play, another important realization occurs: Priests are just men. As men, they can be just as coarse and stupid as his father(Joyce 89). Almost more memorable; in losing himself to the character he plays, Stephen finds himself "clothed for a moment in the real apparel of boyhood", proving that he can truly live in the same world as his fellow creatures(Joyce 90). While he seems to have forgotten this by his time at the university(Joyce 204), it is important for us as readers for the purposes of dramatic irony. 
     Perhaps, though, Stephen does remember the lost exquisite joy of the play, as by the novel's end he is seeking to recapture that feeling through hesitant stumbling attempts at journaling(Joyce 270-76). This act of creation has the status quo of his thought process's dreamlike non-reality; in writing his poem he seeks to adapt the trappings of the priesthood he rejected(Joyce 174-79) to fit into a shape more becoming to the first steps of artistic adventurings(Joyce 235-43). We don't ever fully (or even mostly) understand ourselves and why we do the things we do, but that doesn't stop us from searching. By switching to first-person at the end, Joyce provides a hint that Stephen is beginning a new epiphany; that he might use his imagination and peculiar outlook on life to provide a public good through his writings, whether that be in the form of stories or the form of essays. 
     Joyce used a radical form of stream-of-consciousness style in writing this novel, which while a nightmare to read, opened the doors to an entirely new class of possible nonlinear narrative styles and demolished the walls currently holding novels in place. It works amazingly well at capturing the thinking of a child or of someone extremely ill. We could argue that Stephen is often both childish(Joyce 8-14, 62-74, 188-89, 200-10) and sick(Joyce 8-11, 18-24, 96-98, 146-52) throughout his lifetime. 
     While there could certainly be more written expounding on these and other themes in much more depth, as Lucy Steele wrote in one of her letters, 'my paper now reminds me to conclude" (Austen 242). 

WORKS CITED
Austen, Jane. Sense and Sensibility. 1811. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Print

Chopin, Kate. The Awakening. 1899. New York: Avon Books, 1972. Print. 

Joyce, James. A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. 1914. New York: Penguin Books, 1993. Print.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Church Camp

Trying to come up with something for my Creative Writing class, a stab at trying to convey in poetry form some of what SGYC means to me. (Running at roughly 25-30,000 words on the subject at my personal blog for now.)

"Some have threatened to kidnap me if I didn’t show up
Many others then volunteered to help.

Northeast of Springfield
Couple miles off the highway, down the dirt
You asked me to talk; so here I go
For quite a while this topic can spurt…

Reel the set, no spikes allowed
Ultimate Frisbee, Red scored a touchdown
Single eked out on a softball error
Petrified scared-rabbit new-kid terror.

Want to pet the buffalo? Well, TOO BAD, you’d best forget it,
Don’t approach ‘em, you’ll regret it…
Extended family from eight states gathers
Hymns and praise sail up through the rafters

Counselor’s meeting in the misty dawn
From candy stampedes lifelong memories spawn
A hundred miles down the river-gravel trail
Cinnamon rolls mean it’s time to unwillingly bail

Talent share part of how names are made
There was so much more to the games we played
Growing in faith with preachers and dear friends
Glimpse of heaven – the real thing comes once this one ends

Legends pass down from sibling to sibling,
“In Christ Alone”, country, “Call Me Maybe”, songs you hear singing
Puppet shows, ping pong and photography,
Mid 90’s with high humidity

I’ll stop now, it’s a partial list,
Of all the blessed and trying times, faces which are missed
Sixty to ninety players in the human drama, fringed with bison and cats,
What did/does it mean to me? Not enough words to express that…."

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Space Jam Poem

For a homework project in my Creative Writing class. 

"Some could say it was a marketing ploy
Others maintain it was an instant cult classic,
I’d say it was the perfect movie for a sports-obsessed four-year-old boy

Starring the greatest basketball player of all time
Teamed with legendary American icons
“This makes no sense!” the critics whine
“It’s a cartoon world, anything goes,” I would respond
It explains my taste for extreme-angle photography
Which no doubt came from this screwball comedy
“Gather up your ‘Toon pals, we’re taking your for a ride!”
Quotable quotes are only matched by The Princess Bride
If that makes me an
Unashamed young adult fan, what can I say?
Then, yes, I guess I am – and forever will –
Be a fan of Space Jam."

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Tarnished Strings

This was an early poem written for my Creative Writing class. I revised it several times, this was just the first draft.

"Ice skating rink is where they first met,
Time goes by – so many stories you could tell
Flip through the songbook, this one they’d sing as a duet,
The guitars were shields; their coats of mail…

She a West Coast rebel, pocket sized, dye streaks, big grin
He was a dreamer, doggone loyal, barbed-wire thin
There’s still photos from the point-and-shoot cameras
Them talking at the bonfire as the elm tree dropped samaras…

Her painted fingers pick melody on the strings, bead by bead,
Like the jewelry in her spare time she would fix
His hand played the rhythm, thumb then palm he’d strum,
Together – their music mixed…

Steve doesn’t get out much these days,
While Abby Lee, she sings alone
Today she no longer plays,
He stares wondering at his silent phone…

The kids grew up; they’re doing well,
They hear news by the occasional email
(Within, Proverbs 21:19 highlighted)
Ice skating rink is where they first fell…"

Monday, January 19, 2015

Course Schedules and Other Pieces of Paper

Another poem written while studying one night.

"See that piece of paper
Carried along there with the breeze
For the heading, in red block lettering
The words "SPRING 2015"?

"Under that there's maybe a couple
Streaks of green, a dash of blue
But after that it's white space -
No directions, no real clue.

"On the flipside there's a list of courses and locations,
Times to be somewhere learning
Subjects to study that will expand the mind
Letters mark our performance,
On that essay, mind the kerning.

"That paper kicks around campus
Eventually changing color, growing more yellow
It now says, "...today, this Degree
"is to be Conferred upon this Fellow."

"Now, that paper earns us more,
These are green and they're used to keep score
Some have names, (Benjamin, George, Andrew)
They convey a sense of power,
Dream of attaining things a higher grade
We leave some of these bills at the bookstore.

"In the work we buy there may be marvelous things;
Explanations of the proper tone for guitar strings,
Deeds done so astonishingly, or related so admonishingly,
Unnatural creatures, logical arguments,
Christmas ghosts fading away into vapor
Or pictures as simple as a runaway bit of paper."

Thursday, January 15, 2015

The Harden Trade

Written while studying with a Thunder game on TV as background noise. 

"You know those unanswered questions
You try not to think about?
The kind of real-world algebra 
The problem goes, "If X is so much, then what is Y?" 
Ties the mind in knots unraveling it,
But you may as well go ahead and try
It might be, "Should I have gone to school here?
"Is It really a better education?
"What if I'd have stuck around that place?
Then there's that aspect of socialization..." 

Relationship-wise it'd be known
As "The One(s) That Got Away,
If you would've hung around longer
And what if they hadn't strayed? 

For us Thunder fans
(Blue unites the entire state)
The question that haunts us
"...but what could we have done
"If it wasn't for the Harden trade?"  

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Red Healer

Written while trying to study.

"Paws hit the pavement
On the roadside of 16,
From the back of a pickup truck...

"She hobbled down to the nearest house
Barking "Please", pleading for help
That's how she got to our front porch
Didn't recognize that voice
So we looked out the door to see what was going on...

"It was a medium-sized scared brown dog
With an injured leg, needing somewhere to stay
I set out the food bowls on the weathered boards
Told her it was gonna be okay,
She knew our house was the place to go,
No longer an unwanted stray...

"Her name was Copper,
We loved her, she loved us
Her adopted family
Something in those dog-brown eyes
Said it plain for all to see...

"Time went by, our lives changed
Not much stayed in place
Climb up these mountains, dodge the rocks
But we got through that relay race...

"Bring it back full circle several years,
From September to November
While exploring she got hit
She crawled back, broken leg, burned face
There was nothing we could do
But cry and say "Goodbye
And thanks,"
To our red heeler..."