The Beauty Of James Joyce

So in this blog post I am supposed to be analyzing James Joyce’s brilliant mind. Pretty much impossible. He is so distinct and speaks directly to human nature and through process and exposes thing beyond words that it makes it a feat of skill just to understand what you are reading. So I guess I will have to go with what I feel I can mostly understand. One of these things is the theme or idea that it is ones environment that can dictate how you are but not necessarily who you are. All of Stephen’s life he had been told exactly what to do whether it be by his parents or the society around him or the religion that has been deeply instilled with in him. Everyday my generation is barraged with fast paced instant messages of faith and social norms so by all logic we should be superficial instant gratification junkies who prefer McDonalds as a religion. But that’s not me. I may have been raised in a developing instant world but I do not relish these things. Instead I prefer thought and art which takes time and passion and patients. Science is interesting and also challenging. There is not instant yes or no answer. I am youth who questions. So too is Stephen and through Stephen James Joyce. His writing constantly brings up the theme of questioning being natural and correct. He questions his feelings towards women and at first is ashamed and disgusted himself but finally has a revelation relating it to nature and all that is natural is good. This idea of nature being true and beautiful and questioning ones values is in the forefront of most peoples lives. This theme of allowing for one to self determine exactly who they are is amazing and a prominent thought through out the novel. It adds strong and pronounced eloquence to the conflict of Stephen’s youth creating the plot of the novel itself.

            A particular passage I enjoyed in the fifth part of the book was Stephens’s ideas and definitions of beauty and what defines art. “If a man hacking in fury at a block of wood make there an image of a cow, is that image a work of art? If not, why not?” (232). It is this sort of pondering that makes him an absolute genius. He is speaking of intentions. If a person does not go in to an act with the express intention of creating art is there no art to be made? He is pondering the serendipity of actions and what qualifies beauty. He feels it’s beyond just how something looks. Its singularity with in the world or its capability to be defined as itself is one of his first qualifying tasks. I almost feel as though he is trying to define himself as beautiful and see himself and the people around him as beautiful. The whole novel is about him separating from the society in which he lives and defining himself as a singular and complete entity. The second characteristic is the harmony in which it exists. This harmony and unity amongst the universe creates the universal pleasure one can feel when seeing something beautiful. As a person he is trying to integrate himself into the universe and be capable of expressing, creating, and being a part of the natural beauty that exists within the earth. Finally the third attribute of art is its universal appeal. Fire exists for all and has a natural mystery about it but do we deem it beautiful because we require its warmth for life and does that make life the true beauty that we wish to preserve through flame. The natural radiance contained within an object, that unexplainable fascination and attraction that we feel towards it is part of his definition of beauty and I still have trouble comprehending because he himself does not fully understand it. But within the questions he poses the answer waits to be discovered and defined by the words he works so hard to tame and contort into the beauty he tries to explain. I like this passage so much because he manages to break a elusive thing most people take for granted and add dimension to it and also paradoxes along with new questions to be pondered. There still is no answer to who or what defines art and beauty but I feel through his works there is a better general feel and a better perception of its existence.

Overall this work of art made me think. Most books contain a moral come to through a clear and direct plot and conflict but this novel did not distract the reader with flashy events and an overdramatic climax. It was far too busy posing questions of existence and art and what defines human character to be bothered with mundane and banal issues of plot clear and drawn out plot. This books purpose was to make the reader think not only about Stephen but about themselves and the world around them. Joyce wanted the reader to be inspired and encouraged to pick his thoughts up where he left off. He wanted the reader to converse with themselves and the sky and to come to personal realizations not through stuffy lectures from some moral hero but from a human being. This book has merit simply from the fact that it is as real as it gets when thinking of human mentality. No shame was spared from embarrassment and showed the true progression of real life. Its very rare to come across reality in this world and more importantly honesty of thought. This book contains that and much much more.

There Are Literary Devices In Poems... Suprise....

Page 304 poem 243

The Freaks at Spurgin Road Field
Richard Hugo

The dim boy claps because the others clap.
The polite word, handicapped, is muttered in the stands.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

One whole day I sit, contrite, dirt, L.A.
Union Station, '46, sweating through last night.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.

Score, 5 to 3. Pitcher fading badly in the heat.
Isn't it wrong to be or not be spastic?
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

I'm laughing at a neighbor girl beaten to scream
by a savage father and I'm ashamed to look.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.

The score is always close, the rally always short.
I've left more wreckage than a quake.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

The afflicted never cheer in unison.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back
to stammering pastures where the picnic should have worked.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.

The first literary device and possibly the most prominent one in the entire poem is the use of repetition.   The repetition truly hammers home the general idea of the poem when they repeat the line “the dim boy claps because the others clap”. Its poignant resonance keeps the line fresh in your mind as you read and sets the mood. Had the line been stated only once the continuity of the poem would have faltered and the message it was trying to state would have been far less affective.

            The other line repeated “isn’t it wrong, the way the mind moves back.” Contrasts the message sent in the first repeated line. The first line strongly implies a lack of thought by implying that the boy claps only because he sees other doing it. There is absolutely no free will in the boy’s action. Contrary this line shows a lack in free will for an entirely different reason. This line echoes the idea that your thoughts can’t be consciously controlled and will continually revert in a regressive pattern.

            Another literary device used is the use of rhetorical questions. These questions are not meant to be answered within the poem but meant to stir within the reader a moral question. “Isn't it wrong to be or not be spastic?” simple on the surface, true, but on further examination and when paired with the repeated line of “Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back” it hearkens within the reader a sense of moral ambiguity that needs to be solved. This marks a truly good poem when the reader feels a sense of questioning and a certain sense of distress. Unlike the dim boy this poem causes you to question why you are clapping using a tastefully placed ambiguous question.

            As for my opinion and interpretation of this poem I was subtly confused at first when I read it. I got caught up in the game references along with the scores. But on a second reading I saw how much it was commenting on society. When they referred to how the “polite” word for it was handicapped I understood they were refereeing to the “freaks” in society. I understood even more as they mentioned the abusive father. This could be taken as a spectacle and the narrator comments on how he watches yet feels ashamed. He watches this “ freak” with displeasure but fascination and the dim boy claps along with the dumb masses just because he feels he should. I felt this is a very true statement for today with TV. People nowadays gain pleasure from watching the misfortune of others and the “ freaks” of our society and we all clap and laugh just because it happens to be in style.

Page 317 poem number 258

The Victims

When Mother divorced you, we were glad. She took it and
took it, in silence, all those years and then
kicked you out, suddenly, and her
kids loved it. Then you were fired, and we
grinned inside, the way people grinned when
Nixon's helicopter lifted off the South
Lawn for the last time. We were tickled
to think of your office taken away,
your secretaries taken away,
your lunches with three double bourbons,
your pencils, your reams of paper. Would they take your
suits back, too, those dark
carcasses hung in your closet, and the black
noses of your shoes with the large pores?
She had taught us to take it, to hate you and take it
until we pricked at your
annihilation, Father. Now I
pass bums in doorways, the white
slugs of their bodies gleaming through slits in their
suits of compressed silt, the stained
flippers of their hands, the underwater
fire of their eyes, ships gone down with the
lanterns lit, and I wonder who took it and
took it from then in silence until they had
given it all away and had nothing
left but this
             A prominent literary device used in this poem is metaphor. There are metaphors used through out the entire poem and contribute to creating the deplorable image to of the father. Everything down to his clothing is turned into a slimy disgusting foreign object “Would they take your suits back, too, those dark carcasses hung in your closet, and the black noses of your shoes with the large pores?” This metaphor creates a gruesome yet entrancing image and explain the situation and personality of the father far better than saying he is bad.
            Another literary device used in this poem is allusion. The poet alludes to Nixon’s last ride in the helicopter as it leaves the green. This allusion tells a deeper statement about the father and what the children had once thought of him. Nixon was at one point in his career a respected leader but then greatly betrayed an entire nation. This allusion encompasses not only the lost respect of the children but also the deep sense of betrayal they feel. It also shows exactly how much joy they felt in watching him leave. This allusion adds depth to the poem that a simple metaphor or simile could not add and adds gravity and weight to how the children feel towards their father.
            As for my opinion I never thought something could be so outstandingly gruesome and foul while being beautiful at the same time. The emotions of the true victims and how their youth was ripped out from under them was vulnerably captured in the descriptive metaphors and similes. When the poem broadened at the end to encompass any “Now I pass bums in doorways, the white slugs of their bodies gleaming through slits in their suits of compressed silt” I realized just how much this man has marked these children. He has skewed how they view the entire world and even made them see what could have been innocent poverty stricken people as slime and only in that situation because they too have “given it all away and had nothing left but this”.

Beasts Of Emotion...

Now to sit down and dissect something like a mad scientist. Well let me cut into the skin of “we” and reveal its clockwork organs and dig until I find that sensitive spot that is just beyond the green wall. I am talking about the “animals” that hide in the grass and that are so much bellow the “superior” race of beings that live in the glass world. At first I had seen them as under developed monkeys that show how amazing and how advanced the dystopian society was but on closer examination I saw it showed exactly the opposite.
    These beasts were more human than the logical and mechanical things that thought of themselves as people. The “beasts” felt and had emotion. They didn’t examine everything logically but as humans should. They were clouded by primitive and illogical emotion. I found it funny that I could relate to these creatures more so than to the soulless automatons that inhabited the glass city. It left me somewhat unnerved. I had to contemplate whether the direction in which our own society was headed was the correct direction. With our growing technology and heightening sense of justice and logic I had to question whether or not we are become more like these beautiful and simple monsters or the calculated and cold  things that called themselves people.

I also had to wonder which is truly better. Is it better to be logical and calculated and neglect the humanity and ethics of every situation for the mere fact that it makes the most “sense”? Or should we let emotion and sentiment completely clog our view of what is logical? I feel at this point in time we have managed to find an odd balance. We have advanced past the monkeys of the green wall but not lost all sense of primitive emotion and love. When that is lost we are no better than those people living in glass and parading in their false sense of illogical happiness.

Mastering Love...

Quotes have never ever been my forte. I like my own words so much better and I feel like I am stealing but there was one that I could not get out of my mind no matter how hard I mentally scraped. When d-503 admitted to I-330 that he was afraid of fog she in her amazingly cryptic and human way she has told him “That means you love it. You are afraid of it because you it’s stronger than you, you hate it because you’re afraid of it, you love it because you can’t master it. You can only love something that refuses to be mastered.”( 71) This statement, made with the utmost of confidence, really made me stop and think. In a novel barren of even the most basic human emotion I was surprised and confused to find this beacon of human wisdom.
    The very basis of mastery is as what humans seek. The human being always wants to get better and better at something so they seek to master it and destroy what they do not know. But it some how makes perfect sense that one can only love what one can not master. The human soul has been repeatedly shown to be completely incapable of being mastered and so it adds sense behind falling in love. Well at least as much sense as love can ever make.
    I also found it ironic that in this society it seems that almost every human has been mastered. There is absolutely no room for love by i-330’s definition. The only one who seems to have not been conquered is herself. She has surreptitiously planted the seed in d-503’s head that he is in love with her. When I really sat down and thought about it she is honestly one of the most conniving characters I have ever read about. She takes complete advantage of d-503’s under developed sense of emotion. She uses it to her advantage much like how an adult might manipulate a teenager in a similar situation. It’s horrible but the only on who has any knowledge of love is the one who abuses it. It almost made me lose hope even in the flame of humanity in the dystopian horror that had been created.

If Only It Ended Differently...

“We” “We” “We” “We” “We”… well this is what I thought of “We”. Through out the novel I found it to be decently engaging. The whole tension brought on by d-503’s plight into the terrifying world of imagination kept me rooting for him and hoping he will come out on the other side with thoughts of unicorns and rainbows and illogical things like that. Instead I get slammed with my hero getting a lobotomy and acting like the computer I am typing this blog on.
    Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one for sappy illogical endings where the long lost something or other comes out of the woodwork and saves them all, but come on, I wanted some stones to be thrown. D-503 had come far in his rebellious nature and in my opinion his terrible condition of having a soul had gotten bad enough that he might have shattered a few glass walls before rolling over.
    Looking beyond the disappointing ending the book as a whole was decent. I enjoyed the brightly human bursts of emotion that i-330 brought to the rather bland and uninteresting conditions of the novel. I don’t know if it was because we had already read a couple of dystopian novels but I felt myself tripping over familiar surroundings. Turns out when creating perfect societies authors have pretty similar basic ideas. Assigning of jobs and dictating as much free time as possible has been done before and I couldn’t help but yearn for something a bit more creative. But then again how can you have creativity in a stifling society of glass and numbers.
    So as a whole I would give “We” three stars out of five. It kept me guessing on and off and managed to get me to care about the heartless robot d-503 although the end left me wanting more than just closure but a wild rebellion of feeling versus logic.

So Many Ways To Die...

with all the ways in the world to perish i found it almost laughable that Atwoods society thought that their downfall was choice. "we were a scoeity dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice" ( 25). i find it amazing that even for a split second choice could be conscidered a bad thing. i never have liked being forced to do anything but this society argues that choices complicate things and makes people unhappy. they claim that choices cause discord and are the downfall of man and religion... but where is the beauty of religion without choice?

to have faith is the very center of all religion. to beleive by CHOICE, not by force. but somewhere between the bombs going off and the naziesque burning of books, all in the name of good faith and religion of course, i feel the message was lost. there are many things a person or society can die from but i am sure choice is not one of them. infact its very easy to die from lack of choice, as shown by countless ponderings by offred where she contemplates suicide. because they have taken every choice away from her she scrounges about for her only choice left.

its astounding that an entire society can suddenly and effectively become so terrified of freedom. its a hard concept for me as a young american where we literally forget how free we really are. even by writing this blog i am taking advantage of a careless freedom i have often overlooked. but i honestly think if all my freedoms were to be torn away i would die, if not physically then definitly emotionally. so it really causes me to marvel at the fact that such a rampant fear of freedom can cause an entire revelution. its almost ironic since so often revelutions are started to gain more freedom.

i see the cause behind this fear is a greed like no other. people desire to keep what they have and those on top will do almost anything to stay on top. these greedy few have found a way to manipulate people into thinking this basic violation of human rights is good for them. this happened with hitlers nazi regime. as long as everyone hated onething they were united and happy... as long as they were not the hatred. and step by step more and more became the hated until finally everything " undesirable" was banished. in atwoods case the undesirable thing was freedom.

I Am No Fashion Designer...

They say not to judge a book by its cover but glancing at how something appears can tell you a lot about something. In "The Handmaid's Tale" women were, for the most part, defined by what they wore. The clothes that the women wore defined them and their purpose that was given to them.

Take for instance the handmaiden herself. She was garbed in all red and blinded by white. Red can stir a lot of things inside a person on sight, ranging from passion desire and hunger to repulsion and sin. All of these things define the handmaids because through their occupation have become objects of desire but also sin. Through the use of such topical and blatant symbols Atwood has made a statement at how superficial the entire society is. When someone can glance at you and know you as much as they need to know you there is a problem.

This can also bring up the sensitive subject of self expression. people want to be able to portray who they are and how they feel and clothing is a very viable means of doing so. When human beings are stripped of that they lose not only their freedom but their identity. they become what the clothing defines them as. In the case of the Martha's they become hands for cooking and cleaning, and the handmaids become a womb. Its degrading to be broken up into parts and looked at only for what your body can do. Atwood takes something generally used to express personality and even emotion and turns it on its head making it represent the most superficial bodily functions. I found this switch to be fascinating and thought it was extremely clever on Atwood's part.