DUBLINERS, by James Joyce: "Eveline"

cretonne

Finally my Dubliners experience has found a heart in Joyce!  So far (1) the stories, while undeniably, blindingly brilliant, have done virtually nothing to draw the reader--or me, anyway-- "into" the characters and "feel" for them.  Here in "Eveline" --well, how can you not feel sorry for this girl, stuck as she is between this rock and a hard place, understand why she chooses in the end what she does, and yet fervently wish she'd chosen the other?  Also (2) --and I wonder if this is related at all to, and even facilitates, the former (1) --this is the simplest of the stories thus far in the collection, at least as far as layers and symbols are concerned, or else I'm totally (and this is certainly not unlikely) missing the boat here.  Does the general simplicity of this story encourage its pathos?

The story is divided into, not the obvious two (obvious by marker of a printer's dividing line in my copy), but three sections.  The division between one and two is less superficially obvious--more a tonal division between act one and act two, if "acts" there may be in so short a story.  The dividing "line" here, I believe is the long descriptive paragraph for Frank.  Pre-Frank, the prose is markedly negative; the contrary, of course, is the case post-Frank.

Act I, samples of the negative: the evening invades; she was tired; dead, dead, dead; the more distant from the present, the more ideal; the brown and yellow, as opposed to the new and, by contrast, more ideal red; Miss Gavan; the arguments and abuses of her father.  The transition into something less negative is that very last sentence leading into Frank, and Act II:

"It was hard work--a hard life--but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life."  (Nice cadence here, by the way.)  Earlier, Joyce says, or has the girl think, "Everything changes."

The implications of these two sentences speak for the entire story--conflict, character, setting, everything.  The girl has before her a drastic change, and a change for the unknown.  The unknown is a typically scary place, and the known, often regardless of however miserable, is pretty much always preferable to the unknown, at least inasmuch as, again, the unknown is scary (and those naysayers who claim that the unknown--adventure--is not scary but exciting, well, if it were not scary it could in no wise create the adrenaline that verily lends the sensation of excitement in the first place; adrenaline junkies just like to get scared), and it is this that holds the intrigue.  Eveline is torn between, on one hand, staying where she is, despite its monotony, is discomfort, and its potential danger (her father's abuses, particularly as she increasingly gains similarity to her mother), and, on the other hand, embarking (literally) for the greener side across the sea.

Act II, examples of the positive: the white envelopes, indicating how she at least wants to feel for the coming adventure; "but she liked Harry too"; the distinct and abiding good of her father; the new connotation of the "odour of [the] dusty cretonne"; but we quickly slide back to the negative as memory of that good in father leads to his defense of his wife against the "damned Italians."  Eveline is stifled by recalled death and stands in eager/anxious anticipation of her escape.  ("Dereraun Seraun" is most likely--I had to look this up--invented by Joyce; however, the wide variety of implied "definitions" offer pretty idea for what he might have intended.)

Of course, she doesn't escape.  Wracked with fear, she opts for the grayish-brown constance of Dublin over the green adventure of Buenos Ayres (sic).

The theme of the story, I believe, is not change, but a derivative thereof: "the more things change the more they stay the same."  Cliche', sure, but in wording only, not application, and that simple, apparently oxymoronic sentence applies across the entire span of the story, much like the two sentences from before.  Nearly every line of the story holds indicator of something having changed, changing, or awaiting change.  In the end, however, and despite all this change all over the place, really, nothing changes: Eveline stays right where she is, and, interestingly, the things that drive her to seek change in the first place are, tit-for-tat, the very things she can't bear to leave behind.

*

There are two other items that I want to point out (not the only potentially point-worthy, as there are many (though these others are generally indicative of trends and referents we've already dissected at length), but, I think--forgive me--the point-worthiest), one of foreshadowing, the second of contextualizing; both, however, are perhaps zoomed-in a little too far:

1. "Damned Italians" -- aside from the irony of racial abuse here (Joyce lived in Italy for most of his life--though this could be scorn from the one-eyed man in the form of mockery toward an assumed bigotry of his countrymen), I think the words from Eveline's father and where/how (from within the happy-ish Act II) they're written/remembered indicate a prejudice against if not travel then foreigners in general.  If she possesses any of the same bigotry of her father, then her fear of this adventure heightens;
2. "Eveline!  Evvy!" -- maybe I'm slow (likely), but I didn't notice until now the girl's similarity of name to Eve of Old Testament fame.  Hmm.  Is Joyce saying that if Eve had not been pushed out by God for her transgression....  No.  He's saying that Eveline is perhaps missing out on the knowledge and experience that simply cannot be had from within her little, well, garden, no matter how dark and dreary.  And maybe all of Dublin is an Eveline, not an Eve.  Perhaps Joyce sees himself as, by contrast and in context, a masculine incarnation (not an Adam, however) of the more laudable of the two women.  I expect he would see Eden as a prison; also he, in no way, sees himself as a holy or righteous man; so Eve, indeed, is the better woman, and Dublin is a, Eveline: a cowardly failure.

*

As I said at the beginning, I really see this as the first of the stories thus far to have some spark of life.  Despite the gray tragedy of it, it is a tragedy!  Whatever the other stories were, they were not tragedies, as--for me--a story for whose characters I care not can never come across as tragic.  This poor girl, Eveline!  What a hand she get dealt!  I wonder, and perhaps this is the most salient question: is it her fault?

East of Eden XXXI -- chpt30: SHOT THROUGH THE HEART

Synopsis:
I

1. Family drives into town to pick up mail and get meat for dinner.
2. Adam gets a letter from a law firm back East.
3. Letter announces death of Charles and further inheritance for Adam, to be split with his wife, if she is yet alive.
4. Cal and Aron bet on an early bed time.
5. Cal's feelings are significantly hurt--nearly mortally so.

II

1. Aron wonder's why Cal kicks down anthills--not which anthills, but why.
2. Cal's heart is pierced anew.
3. Adam and Lee discuss letter and what to do about Cathy's rightful portion (rightful by which morality?).
4. Lee stands up to Adam, who is surprised but not bothered.
5. Lee practices perfectly timed and inflected sarcasm.

III

1. Cal perfectly demonstrates what it really means to choose.  Timshel.

Questions
Chapter 30.1

1. The last few chapters have illustrated Adam's tremendous changes.  If his past sins are more visible, remember these moments of triumph and glory, if not, perhaps, as significant as that of Lee's family history.  Here in part 1, what do we see as proof of his embracing the new life he's chosen and the family eagerly accepting?  (more than one)
2. What does Aron manage to do, though there no way he intended it, that will have eternal significance--recorded by the angels of heaven--for his brother?
3. Notice the rapidity of sway in Cal's emotions.  Cal fears, a little (and he recognizes it), Lee.  He believes he has power over his brother and potential power over his father.  What or who is Cal really scared of, and why?

Chapter 30.2

1. What in the world could "the elders" accomplish that Lee hasn't already in this discussion of inheritance?  Why does Lee get so angry with Adam?  What is the truth in Adam that he refuses to admit of himself and why?
2. What would be required for Cathy to expand into Lee's offering: "What your wife is doing is neither good nor bad.  Saints can spring from any soil.  Maybe with this money she would do some fine thing.  There's no springboard to philanthropy like a bad conscience"?

Chapter 30.3

1. List all of the possible motivations for Cal's prayer to be like Aron.
2. What is he really willing to sacrifice--or how far is he willing to go--to buy this miracle?
3. What is his first step in the "right" direction?

Finally, if the rabbit symbolizes either of the boys, at this point has the significance of the member changed or reversed polarization, or gained an additional object?

East of Eden XVI -- chpt15: Divination

Reading Questions
Chapter 15.1

1. The human heart, I think, naturally tends toward optimism.  Adam, while not the ideal example, experiences a pall falling over his memory of Connecticut, and the memory fades.  There have been parts of my life--shocks of memory--of which I think so irregularly, for reasons of avoidance of pain, that practically speaking I've essentially forgotten.  When skimming along the timeline of my experiences, I naturally and unwittingly skip those dark periods, as if they didn't exist; yet if those times are directly called upon, by someone else present at the time or some specific corollary, the images are yet clear.  What experiences have you had that are similar (not to dredge up the painful), or what is your opinion in this regard?
2. As we saw a couple chapters ago, we're getting the optimism for change here.  Consider this line: "Can you imagine?  Just think what this land would raise with plenty of water!  Why, it will be a frigging garden?"  Okay, the book is East of Eden, of course, whose third word references one of the two most famous gardens in Western culture.  Is Eden a dream, an ambition, as distant as this optimistically anticipated future, that in likelihood will never come to pass (because, come on, what large body of people are ever so satisfied that they don't look hopefully or enviously toward a better time or circumstance, future or past, left or right)?  If this is so, and Eden will never come, are they not constantly living in the cursed land just Eastward?
3. "There wasn't any limit, no boundary at all, to the future."  Didn't Walt Disney (Tomorrow Land, isn't it?) and Howard Stark (the old Stark Expo, right?) each have a similar impression of the future?
4. Ah, count on Samuel to articulate the issue: "There's a capacity for appetite that a whole heaven and earth of cake can't satisfy."
5. I find the paragraph describing Cathy's mental approach--the picture of passive-aggression--to coping with her baby, her husband, and her new house (for her, not a home); does it not sound like the line describing Olive as disbelieving anything contrary to her realm of possible acceptance?  Of course, there is the fundamental difference of calculation for Cathy and blind, God-fearing faith for Olive.
6. The introduction of Lee, the cook, is perhaps one of my favorite moments--not because it's a grand introduction, but because I now know who Lee is and what he does.  However, if there is one great thing about the method of his introduction it is that his presence makes Cathy feel uncomfortable.  Is there a surer sign of his potential for goodness than that he arouses fear (though she denies it) in the Devil?  And the last line of the section: "And what harm could he do her?" 

Chapter 15.2

1. Speaking of accents and shields, Lee, taking standard English rather than his affected pidgin, says, "It's more than a convenience.  It's even more than self-protection.  Mostly we have to use it to be understood at all."  What is he talking about?
2. When asked why he maintains the queue, Lee says, "Talkee Chinese talk.  Queue Chinese fashion--you savvy?"  Samuel [laughs] loudly.  "That does have the green touch of convenience," he [says].  "I wish I had a hidey-hole like that."  But don't we all have hidey-holes like that?  What's yours?
3. Lee is a changeling, and metamorphmagus, a two-face, and a  man without a country.  Is he short-changing himself?  Is it laziness--acceptance--settling?  Is it survival or refusal?  What other characters are there like him?  I can't help but thing of frontiersmen or outlaws.  People like Jesse James or Cassidy and Sundance....
4. "It's hard to split a man down the middle and always to reach for the same half."
5. "There are no ugly questions except those clothed in condescension."
6. Is literature no full of wise servants?  Look at Lee's description and list the names and sources of servants you've discovered that fit the bill.  The obvious one from contemporary culture (or newly renewed): Bruce Wayne's Alfred.  (I think I could be a servant....)

Chapter 15.3

1.  Anyone out there have experience with a divining wand--the forked stick Samuel uses to find water?
2. Like stones in a field: "The ways of sin are curious.  I guess if a man had to shuck off everything he had, inside and out, he'd manage to hide a few little sins somewhere for his own discomfort.  They're the last things we'll give up."
3. Of the forked stick: "I don't really believe in it save that it works.  Maybe it's this way.  Maybe I know where the water is, feel it in my skin.  Some people have a gift in this direction or that.  Suppose--well, call it humility, or a deep disbelief in myself, forced me to do a magic to bring up to the surface the thing I know anyway.  Does that make any sense to you?"  Isn't it this way for anyone who "discovers" religion for the first time?
4. Hmm.  Adam won't plant apples, because it's "looking for trouble."
5. Could there have been a different girl for Adam?  It's easy to say that Adam is in love with being in love and simply needed an object--it could have been anything or anyone.  But take the hard road: How might it be that Cathy is actually the IDEAL woman for Adam, at least if you consider the gods' oft-misjudged generosity and wisdom in providing all men with the ideal circumstances to return us to them?
6. Samuel to Adam regarding the latter's oblivion: "I should give you Othello's handkerchief."
7. On approaching the house together and spying Cathy from a distance: "Even at this distance she looks beautiful," Samuel said (emphasis added).

Chapter 15.4

1. It seems that good men--well, not exclusively, because there's Charles as well (but is he a BAD man?)--naturally mistrust Cathy.  Adam is not a bad man.  What's his freaking problem?
2. What's the goose that keeps treading over Samuel's grave?
3. (I picture Doxology as one of those sorry looking Disney horses from the old shorts....)

Chapter 15.5

1. Once again, Adam is an idiot.

Podcast #2: CHANGE

So, I understand if no one comes back to this entry, but I've got something to add.  I just finished reading Mockingjay, final book in the Hunger Games series, by Suzanne Collins, and I found a couple of paragraphs in a dialog that seem pertinent to the discussion here. 

SPOILER ALERT:

• "Are you preparing for another war, Plutarch?"
• "Oh, not now.  Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated," he says.  "But collective thinking is usually short lived.  We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.  Although who knows?  Maybe this will be it, Katniss."
• "What?" I ask.
• "The time it sticks.  Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race.  Think about that."

Maybe the rebellion war of Panem was indeed enough to bring about the actual adaptation of the human species.  Does that mean this fictional event was bigger than the various wars we've experienced?  Because none of them--the real wars--have resulted in our permanent change, or am I really missing something?

*****

So this installment doesn't have quite the razzle-dazzle, or hype, or whatever of the last, but I hope the point comes across.  I've learned a little bit about putting these things together, including something that I need to work on more for the next time: REHEARSE; and a little bit about myself: like, man, it's so hard to hold onto a train of thought or keep things interesting (doubtful I managed) or even organized when there's no class of noisy kids sitting in front of me.  I need you guys there raising your hands or shouting out questions and comments!

 

And it's still really freaking weird watching myself like this, propless, close-up.  I need a chalkboard.

 

Oh, yeah.  This too:

 

This replaces any questions for Chapter 12.  I'll pick up tomorrow with the rest of Chapter 13.

 

part 1

 

*****

 

part 2