What do you think?
Rate this book
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
The portrayal of Stephen Dedalus's Dublin childhood and youth, his quest for identity through art and his gradual emancipation from the claims of family, religion and Ireland itself, is also an oblique self-portrait of the young James Joyce and a universal testament to the artist's 'eternal imagination'. Both an insight into Joyce's life and childhood, and a unique work of modernist fiction, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a novel of sexual awakening, religious rebellion and the essential search for voice and meaning that every nascent artist must face in order to blossom fully into themselves.
329 pages, Paperback
First published December 16, 1916
7,972 people are currently reading
161k people want to read
About the author
James Joyce
1,956听books9,047听followersA profound influence of literary innovations of Irish writer James Augustine Aloysius Joyce on modern fiction includes his works,
Ulysses
(1922) and
Finnegans Wake
(1939).
Sylvia Beach published the first edition of Ulysses of James Augustine Aloysius Joyce in 1922.
John Stanislaus Joyce, an impoverished gentleman and father of James Joyce, nine younger surviving siblings, and two other siblings who died of typhoid, failed in a distillery business and tried all kinds of other professions, including politics and tax collecting. The Roman Catholic Church dominated life of Mary Jane Murray, an accomplished pianist and his mother. In spite of poverty, the family struggled to maintain a solid middle-class fa莽ade.
Jesuits at Clongowes Wood college, Clane, and then Belvedere college in Dublin educated Joyce from the age of six years; he graduated in 1897. In 1898, he entered the University College, Dublin. Joyce published first an essay on When We Dead Awaken , play of Heinrich Ibsen, in the Fortnightly Review in 1900. At this time, he also began writing lyric poems.
After graduation in 1902, the twenty-year-old Joyce went to Paris, where he worked as a journalist, as a teacher, and in other occupations under difficult financial conditions. He spent a year in France, and when a telegram about his dying mother arrived, he returned. Not long after her death, Joyce traveled again. He left Dublin in 1904 with Nora Barnacle, a chambermaid, whom he married in 1931.
Joyce published Dubliners in 1914, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in 1916, a play Exiles in 1918 and Ulysses in 1922. In 1907, Joyce published a collection of poems, Chamber Music .
At the outset of the Great War, Joyce moved with his family to Z眉rich. In Z眉rich, Joyce started to develop the early chapters of Ulysses, first published in France because of censorship troubles in the Great Britain and the United States, where the book became legally available only in 1933.
In March 1923, Joyce in Paris started Finnegans Wake, his second major work; glaucoma caused chronic eye troubles that he suffered at the same time. Transatlantic review of Ford Madox Ford in April 1924 carried the first segment of the novel, called part of Work in Progress. He published the final version in 1939.
Some critics considered the work a masterpiece, though many readers found it incomprehensible. After the fall of France in World War II, Joyce returned to Z眉rich, where he died, still disappointed with the reception of Finnegans Wake.
Sylvia Beach published the first edition of Ulysses of James Augustine Aloysius Joyce in 1922.
John Stanislaus Joyce, an impoverished gentleman and father of James Joyce, nine younger surviving siblings, and two other siblings who died of typhoid, failed in a distillery business and tried all kinds of other professions, including politics and tax collecting. The Roman Catholic Church dominated life of Mary Jane Murray, an accomplished pianist and his mother. In spite of poverty, the family struggled to maintain a solid middle-class fa莽ade.
Jesuits at Clongowes Wood college, Clane, and then Belvedere college in Dublin educated Joyce from the age of six years; he graduated in 1897. In 1898, he entered the University College, Dublin. Joyce published first an essay on When We Dead Awaken , play of Heinrich Ibsen, in the Fortnightly Review in 1900. At this time, he also began writing lyric poems.
After graduation in 1902, the twenty-year-old Joyce went to Paris, where he worked as a journalist, as a teacher, and in other occupations under difficult financial conditions. He spent a year in France, and when a telegram about his dying mother arrived, he returned. Not long after her death, Joyce traveled again. He left Dublin in 1904 with Nora Barnacle, a chambermaid, whom he married in 1931.
Joyce published Dubliners in 1914, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man in 1916, a play Exiles in 1918 and Ulysses in 1922. In 1907, Joyce published a collection of poems, Chamber Music .
At the outset of the Great War, Joyce moved with his family to Z眉rich. In Z眉rich, Joyce started to develop the early chapters of Ulysses, first published in France because of censorship troubles in the Great Britain and the United States, where the book became legally available only in 1933.
In March 1923, Joyce in Paris started Finnegans Wake, his second major work; glaucoma caused chronic eye troubles that he suffered at the same time. Transatlantic review of Ford Madox Ford in April 1924 carried the first segment of the novel, called part of Work in Progress. He published the final version in 1939.
Some critics considered the work a masterpiece, though many readers found it incomprehensible. After the fall of France in World War II, Joyce returned to Z眉rich, where he died, still disappointed with the reception of Finnegans Wake.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 8,661 reviews
July 8, 2007
Shut up James, you had me at 'moo-cow.'
March 4, 2025
鈥淚 will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning.鈥�
~~
This novel ... this fucking, brilliant novel ... I don't even know where to start ... once more, I was awed by James Joyce.
鈥檚 starts with the buoyancy, simplicity and purity of a tale told to a young boy and ends on a note that is tentative, apprehensive, and off kilter. Between the two points we meet our hero Stephen Dedalus, as he navigates the snares of ethnicity, Catholicism, nationalism and clan as they attempt to trap his poet鈥檚 soul and destroy Stephen's beautiful dreams.
Joyce鈥檚 1916 novel is a cornerstone of literary modernism. Upon reading the final words, it鈥檚 easy to see how Joyce upended the literary world with . Every page drips with brilliance.
The story tells the tale of young Stephen Dedalus, Joyce鈥檚 alter-ego, as we follow him along his path to personal and artistic growth. This prose is extremely modern for 1916. The character鈥檚 thoughts, feelings, and reactions are portrayed in a continuous flow and interrupt the linear plot of events and dialogue in the tale of Stephen's life. The story starts with the young Stephen reciting a nursery rhyme about a moo-cow.
One of the most brilliant traits of is evolving with Stephen as the tale develops, not just chronologically and philosophically, but also on a narrative and linguistic level. Young Stephen is deeply impacted by the Jesuits and the education he receives from them. Stephen grows to become a complex and deeply reflective young man who fiercely confronts challenging theoretical encounters about art, sex, language, religion, and nationality.
As the story matures, so too does Stephen鈥檚 intellectual development which expresses itself in his developing vocabulary and grammatical style throughout his stream of consciousness monologues. As Stephen鈥檚 tale unfolds, his language becomes more poetic, especially after his rejection of religion.
I can relate to Stephen on so many levels ~~ most notably a spiritually ~~ regarding his early relationship with the church and God. I was as devout and God fearing as was the young Stephen, and like the young Stephen, I had my break with the church, and when it was final, it was final. Like Stephen, I had trouble sleeping I could not escape my fear of death and hell. Chapter III ~~ one of the most brilliant pieces of writing I have ever read ~~ features a long sermon about the infinite suffering inherent to hell delivered by a Jesuit who scares the bejesus out of our young hero.
Finally, I believe Stephen to be the most relateable character Joyce has ever created. He is written perfectly ~~ the artist, Stephen is developed brilliantly. In the end, Stephen overcomes every powerful influence that tries to claim his soul as he becomes the artist he was born to be. He abandons all he was anchored to ~~ family, country, and church to pursue his personal illumination. Stephen is brave, strong, and determined to reach the artistic heights he has set for himself. My only regret is that I hadn鈥檛 read this in my teens, as I find Stephen to be extremely inspirational. Taking this journey with Stephen can help the reader uncover something wonderful about who they are, and that is what makes this novel a modern masterpiece.
~~
This novel ... this fucking, brilliant novel ... I don't even know where to start ... once more, I was awed by James Joyce.
鈥檚 starts with the buoyancy, simplicity and purity of a tale told to a young boy and ends on a note that is tentative, apprehensive, and off kilter. Between the two points we meet our hero Stephen Dedalus, as he navigates the snares of ethnicity, Catholicism, nationalism and clan as they attempt to trap his poet鈥檚 soul and destroy Stephen's beautiful dreams.
Joyce鈥檚 1916 novel is a cornerstone of literary modernism. Upon reading the final words, it鈥檚 easy to see how Joyce upended the literary world with . Every page drips with brilliance.
The story tells the tale of young Stephen Dedalus, Joyce鈥檚 alter-ego, as we follow him along his path to personal and artistic growth. This prose is extremely modern for 1916. The character鈥檚 thoughts, feelings, and reactions are portrayed in a continuous flow and interrupt the linear plot of events and dialogue in the tale of Stephen's life. The story starts with the young Stephen reciting a nursery rhyme about a moo-cow.
One of the most brilliant traits of is evolving with Stephen as the tale develops, not just chronologically and philosophically, but also on a narrative and linguistic level. Young Stephen is deeply impacted by the Jesuits and the education he receives from them. Stephen grows to become a complex and deeply reflective young man who fiercely confronts challenging theoretical encounters about art, sex, language, religion, and nationality.
As the story matures, so too does Stephen鈥檚 intellectual development which expresses itself in his developing vocabulary and grammatical style throughout his stream of consciousness monologues. As Stephen鈥檚 tale unfolds, his language becomes more poetic, especially after his rejection of religion.
I can relate to Stephen on so many levels ~~ most notably a spiritually ~~ regarding his early relationship with the church and God. I was as devout and God fearing as was the young Stephen, and like the young Stephen, I had my break with the church, and when it was final, it was final. Like Stephen, I had trouble sleeping I could not escape my fear of death and hell. Chapter III ~~ one of the most brilliant pieces of writing I have ever read ~~ features a long sermon about the infinite suffering inherent to hell delivered by a Jesuit who scares the bejesus out of our young hero.
Finally, I believe Stephen to be the most relateable character Joyce has ever created. He is written perfectly ~~ the artist, Stephen is developed brilliantly. In the end, Stephen overcomes every powerful influence that tries to claim his soul as he becomes the artist he was born to be. He abandons all he was anchored to ~~ family, country, and church to pursue his personal illumination. Stephen is brave, strong, and determined to reach the artistic heights he has set for himself. My only regret is that I hadn鈥檛 read this in my teens, as I find Stephen to be extremely inspirational. Taking this journey with Stephen can help the reader uncover something wonderful about who they are, and that is what makes this novel a modern masterpiece.
April 5, 2025
I am concurrently reading two enormously stimulating and intellectually challenging books - both of which I can recommend strenuously - My Bright Abyss and Holy Desperation.
Each of these, distinctly different and imperiously individualistic, is by a writer who takes James Joyce鈥檚 commandment to become the conscience of our race at face value.
Each does that differently - the former by a disinterested poetic conscience - and the latter by a socially committed religious conscience.
But each is - or has been for most of their life - a pariah.
A castoff from suburbia.
If you eschew the usual head games and (slightly more outr茅) games of concupiscence suburbia tends to excel at, you are likely one of us.
I say us, for with this book, like they with theirs, I first became a Stephen Dedalus.
The three of us may fake some kind of obedience to the norm, but our hearts will always be in those mystical epiphanic moments which make life worthwhile: those rare moments which are intimations of immortality, as Wordsworth puts it.
When life is a religious experience it is worthwhile.
And it has to be a life of timeless moments. A day without the maximum effort it takes to generate an epiphanic moment (or much better, a SHARED epiphanic moment) is a day not lived.
Joyce knew that. And he knew he could no longer make Ireland his home. For Ireland back at the turn of the century was ruled by a malicious devil - which Plato calls doksa, or opinion - the symptom of a stagnant society in ferment.
When a land is dangerously deadlocked - as we have witnessed in our own time - that same violent devil, doksa, rears its head: and we get viciously vapid tweets masquerading as moral substance.
But Suburbia rarely confronts, but festers.
Hence its release valve, in games.
However, to outcasts from conformity like James Joyce, Christian Wiman (My Bright Abyss) and Heather King (Holy Desperation) we must CHANGE. We must become Self-Aware. And more importantly than that, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, we must have faith.
Have faith that change is possible;
Have faith that WE can promote Change through Awakeness;
Have faith that the Kingdom is at Hand:
AND have faith that all our literary epiphanies PROVE it.
Each of these, distinctly different and imperiously individualistic, is by a writer who takes James Joyce鈥檚 commandment to become the conscience of our race at face value.
Each does that differently - the former by a disinterested poetic conscience - and the latter by a socially committed religious conscience.
But each is - or has been for most of their life - a pariah.
A castoff from suburbia.
If you eschew the usual head games and (slightly more outr茅) games of concupiscence suburbia tends to excel at, you are likely one of us.
I say us, for with this book, like they with theirs, I first became a Stephen Dedalus.
The three of us may fake some kind of obedience to the norm, but our hearts will always be in those mystical epiphanic moments which make life worthwhile: those rare moments which are intimations of immortality, as Wordsworth puts it.
When life is a religious experience it is worthwhile.
And it has to be a life of timeless moments. A day without the maximum effort it takes to generate an epiphanic moment (or much better, a SHARED epiphanic moment) is a day not lived.
Joyce knew that. And he knew he could no longer make Ireland his home. For Ireland back at the turn of the century was ruled by a malicious devil - which Plato calls doksa, or opinion - the symptom of a stagnant society in ferment.
When a land is dangerously deadlocked - as we have witnessed in our own time - that same violent devil, doksa, rears its head: and we get viciously vapid tweets masquerading as moral substance.
But Suburbia rarely confronts, but festers.
Hence its release valve, in games.
However, to outcasts from conformity like James Joyce, Christian Wiman (My Bright Abyss) and Heather King (Holy Desperation) we must CHANGE. We must become Self-Aware. And more importantly than that, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, we must have faith.
Have faith that change is possible;
Have faith that WE can promote Change through Awakeness;
Have faith that the Kingdom is at Hand:
AND have faith that all our literary epiphanies PROVE it.
January 15, 2024
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a book of ripening, a story of the complicated and excruciating spiritual struggle.
A boy in the world of adults: he finds out that there is injustice, that there are such things as perfidy and hypocrisy鈥�
Indoctrination passes as an education: God is above all and there is no free will but only the will of God and everything that is done against the will of God is sin鈥� So eventually, God turns into a frightful monstrosity.
But boy is growing up 鈥� he acquires knowledge, he obtains some life experience so his childish and adolescent fears are left behind鈥� Thus a boy becomes a youth full of poetical visions and artistic hopes鈥� Now Stephen Dedalus is capable of doing daedal deeds鈥�
To become a true artist one must break the chains of all dogmas.
A boy in the world of adults: he finds out that there is injustice, that there are such things as perfidy and hypocrisy鈥�
It was wrong; it was unfair and cruel: and, as he sat in the refectory, he suffered time after time in memory the same humiliation until he began to wonder whether it might not really be that there was something in his face which made him look like a schemer and he wished he had a little mirror to see. But there could not be; and it was unjust and cruel and unfair.
Indoctrination passes as an education: God is above all and there is no free will but only the will of God and everything that is done against the will of God is sin鈥� So eventually, God turns into a frightful monstrosity.
That was the work of devils, to scatter his thoughts and overcloud his conscience, assailing him at the gates of the cowardly and sin corrupted flesh: and, praying God timidly to forgive him his weakness, he crawled up on to the bed and, wrapping the blankets closely about him, covered his face again with his hands. He had sinned. He had sinned so deeply against heaven and before God that he was not worthy to be called God鈥檚 child.
But boy is growing up 鈥� he acquires knowledge, he obtains some life experience so his childish and adolescent fears are left behind鈥� Thus a boy becomes a youth full of poetical visions and artistic hopes鈥� Now Stephen Dedalus is capable of doing daedal deeds鈥�
His heart trembled; his breath came faster and a wild spirit passed over his limbs as though he were soaring sunward. His heart trembled in an ecstasy of fear and his soul was in flight. His soul was soaring in an air beyond the world and the body he knew was purified in a breath and delivered of incertitude and made radiant and commingled with the element of the spirit. An ecstasy of flight made radiant his eyes and wild his breath and tremulous and wild and radiant his windswept limbs.
To become a true artist one must break the chains of all dogmas.
September 18, 2017
鈥淗is soul was swooning into some new world, fantastic, dim, uncertain as under sea, traversed by cloudy shapes and beings. A world, a glimmer or a flower? Glimmering and trembling, trembling and unfolding, a breaking light, an opening flower, it spread in endless succession to itself, breaking in full crimson and unfolding and fading to palest rose, leaf by leaf and wave of light by wave of light, flooding all the heavens with its soft flushes, every flush deeper than the other.鈥�
Thus awareness is born, awareness of oneself as the shackles of society are thrown down. Stephen realises that he does not want to be what everyone else has deemed him to be; he wants to be his own man; he wants to embrace his own desires and live the life he wants: he wants to be free.
And who can blame him? It鈥檚 his life so he may as well live it a way that will cause him some degree of satisfaction. Please note, I deliberately avoided the word 鈥渉appy鈥� because Stephen isn鈥檛 happy; he realises that such a state is fickle: it will always fade with time. So in this process he assesses his own individuality and slowly begins to define his emerging sense of self. To invoke a clich茅, Stephen goes on a journey of self-discovery; however, the extent of which goes far beyond the typical discourse: this is about the soul of his art.
鈥淲hat is that beauty which the artist struggles to express鈥�..鈥�
Is this not the entire crux of the work? Stephen struggles, and overcomes, the fight to be his true self in the confines of Irish society, and, by extension, Joyce struggles to produce his art in the confines of traditional narrative expectation: he cannot write his masterpiece by following the rules. The beauty he wishes to express will have to take a new form.
So, this becomes a natural precursor to Ulysses. I view this novel as an experiment; it is Joyce dipping his toe into the pool of experimental realism before he dives in head first with his next work. He plays with his writing; he tests it all for the purpose of exploring how far he can push the limits of storytelling: he prepares himself and his reader for his next work. To call this book autobiographical is to invoke the understatement of the year. As Stephen loses his virginity and the binds of social constraints, Joyce breaks free of all sense of artistic conformity. As Stephen explores his growing sexual appetite without any care for the conventional modes of Catholic morality that imbedded Irish culture, Joyce begins to stand up on his own two feet, erect and proud; he is ready to throw his writing into the world.
The artist is born.
Thus awareness is born, awareness of oneself as the shackles of society are thrown down. Stephen realises that he does not want to be what everyone else has deemed him to be; he wants to be his own man; he wants to embrace his own desires and live the life he wants: he wants to be free.
And who can blame him? It鈥檚 his life so he may as well live it a way that will cause him some degree of satisfaction. Please note, I deliberately avoided the word 鈥渉appy鈥� because Stephen isn鈥檛 happy; he realises that such a state is fickle: it will always fade with time. So in this process he assesses his own individuality and slowly begins to define his emerging sense of self. To invoke a clich茅, Stephen goes on a journey of self-discovery; however, the extent of which goes far beyond the typical discourse: this is about the soul of his art.
鈥淲hat is that beauty which the artist struggles to express鈥�..鈥�
Is this not the entire crux of the work? Stephen struggles, and overcomes, the fight to be his true self in the confines of Irish society, and, by extension, Joyce struggles to produce his art in the confines of traditional narrative expectation: he cannot write his masterpiece by following the rules. The beauty he wishes to express will have to take a new form.
So, this becomes a natural precursor to Ulysses. I view this novel as an experiment; it is Joyce dipping his toe into the pool of experimental realism before he dives in head first with his next work. He plays with his writing; he tests it all for the purpose of exploring how far he can push the limits of storytelling: he prepares himself and his reader for his next work. To call this book autobiographical is to invoke the understatement of the year. As Stephen loses his virginity and the binds of social constraints, Joyce breaks free of all sense of artistic conformity. As Stephen explores his growing sexual appetite without any care for the conventional modes of Catholic morality that imbedded Irish culture, Joyce begins to stand up on his own two feet, erect and proud; he is ready to throw his writing into the world.
The artist is born.
August 26, 2021
(Book 736 from 1001 books) - A Portrait of The Artist As A Young Man, James Joyce (1882 - 1941)
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is the first novel by Irish writer James Joyce.
It traces the religious and intellectual awakening of young Stephen Dedalus, a fictional alter ego of Joyce and an allusion to Daedalus, the consummate craftsman of Greek mythology.
Stephen questions and rebels against the Catholic and Irish conventions under which he has grown, culminating in his self-exile from Ireland to Europe.
The work uses techniques that Joyce developed more fully in Ulysses (1922) and Finnegans Wake (1939).
毓賳賵丕賳賴丕蹖 趩丕倬 卮丿賴 丿乇 丕蹖乇丕賳: 芦爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦趩賴乇賴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦爻蹖賲丕蹖 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦趩賴乇賴 蹖讴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 丕丿亘蹖丕鬲 丕蹖乇賱賳丿貨 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 賴卮鬲賲 賲丕賴 跇賵卅賳 爻丕賱 2009賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 倬乇賵蹖夭 丿丕乇蹖賵卮貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 丕爻丕胤蹖乇貙 1370貙 丿乇 318氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 爻乇诏匕卮鬲賳丕賲賴貙 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖乇賱賳丿 - 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 趩賴乇賴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 賲賳賵趩賴乇 亘丿蹖毓蹖貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱賵賮乇貙 1380貙 丿乇 384氐貙 卮丕亘讴964448095貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 丿乇 466氐 爻丕賱 1385貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕氐睾乇 噩賵蹖丕貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 丌亘丕丿丕賳貙 賳卮乇 倬乇爻卮貙 1381貙 丿乇 263氐貨 卮丕亘讴9646629717貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 趩賴乇賴 蹖讴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕賲蹖乇 毓賱蹖噩丕賳倬賵乇貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 丌賵丕蹖 賲讴鬲賵亘貙 1394貙 丿乇 288氐貨 卮丕亘讴9786007364093貨
丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 賲丕噩乇丕賴丕蹖 倬爻乇蹖 乇丕貙 丕夭 丿賵 爻丕賱诏蹖貙 鬲丕 亘蹖爻鬲 爻丕賱诏蹖貙 亘蹖丕賳 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘爻蹖丕乇 倬蹖趩蹖丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賵 丿乇 丌賳貙 亘賴 賲爻丕卅賱蹖 丕夭 芦丕蹖乇賱賳丿禄貙 芦丕賳爻丕賳禄貙 芦讴賵丿讴禄貙 芦鬲乇爻禄 賵 芦禺丿丕禄貙 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 賳丕賯丿丕賳 丌孬丕乇 蹖丕 賴賲丕賳 胤賵胤蹖丕賳 卮蹖乇蹖賳 诏賮鬲丕乇 倬蹖卮蹖賳貙 亘乇 丕蹖賳 亘丕賵乇 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 讴賴 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 賲賯丿賲賴 丕蹖 亘乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 芦丕賵賱蹖爻禄貙 卮丕賴讴丕乇 芦噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻禄 賳蹖夭 賴爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳 丕孬乇貙 亘賴鈥� 賳賵毓蹖貙 禺賵丿夭賳丿诏蹖鈥屬嗀з呝� 蹖 芦噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻禄 賴賲 賴爻鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 乇賵丕蹖鬲 乇賲丕賳 乇丕貙 讴賴 鬲賵爻胤 爻賵賲 卮禺氐 賲賮乇丿貙 亘蹖丕賳 卮丿賴貙 亘丕 匕賴賳蹖丕鬲 芦丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 丿乇 賴賲 丌賲蹖禺鬲賴貙 賵 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇貙 丿乇 亘禺卮賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 乇賲丕賳貙 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丕丿睾丕賲 芦乇賵丕蹖鬲禄貙 賵 芦匕賴賳蹖鬲禄貙 乇賵亘乇賵 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 亘賴 鬲賱丕卮貙 賵 賳賵爻丕賳丕鬲 乇賵丨蹖 芦丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 亘乇丕蹖 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖 乇賵丨卮貙 亘乇 毓賵丕賲賱 賲賳賮蹖 丿賵乇賵亘乇蹖 賴丕蹖 禺賵蹖卮 - 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 亘乇 乇賮鬲丕乇 賳丕賲賳丕爻亘 亘乇禺蹖 丕夭 丌賲賵夭诏丕乇丕賳貙 賵 禺卮賵賳鬲蹖 讴賴 亘蹖賳 倬爻乇賴丕蹖 賲丿乇爻賴貙 乇賵丕噩 丿丕乇丿 - 賳蹖夭 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴鈥� 丕爻鬲貨 芦噩賵蹖爻禄 丿乇 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 乇賲丕賳貙 蹖毓賳蹖 芦丕爻鬲賮丕賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 芦鬲乇丿蹖丿禄 賵 芦丌卮賮鬲诏蹖禄貙 賵 芦倬賵趩鈥屭必й屰� 賳爻賱 賳賵禄 乇丕 賴賲貙 亘賴 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇卮 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴鈥� 丕爻鬲貨 賳诏丕乇賳丿賴貙 丕夭 鬲賱賲蹖丨 (丕卮丕乇賴 亘賴 賯氐賴 蹖丕 卮毓乇) 賴賲 爻賵丿 亘乇丿賴貙 賵 亘丕 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 丕夭 賲鬲賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲賯丿爻貙 氐丨賳賴 賴丕蹖 芦賲乇诏禄 賵 芦賯蹖丕賲鬲禄 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 亘賳诏丕卮鬲賴 丕爻鬲
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 27/06/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 03/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is the first novel by Irish writer James Joyce.
It traces the religious and intellectual awakening of young Stephen Dedalus, a fictional alter ego of Joyce and an allusion to Daedalus, the consummate craftsman of Greek mythology.
Stephen questions and rebels against the Catholic and Irish conventions under which he has grown, culminating in his self-exile from Ireland to Europe.
The work uses techniques that Joyce developed more fully in Ulysses (1922) and Finnegans Wake (1939).
毓賳賵丕賳賴丕蹖 趩丕倬 卮丿賴 丿乇 丕蹖乇丕賳: 芦爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦趩賴乇賴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦爻蹖賲丕蹖 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 芦趩賴乇賴 蹖讴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖禄貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 丕丿亘蹖丕鬲 丕蹖乇賱賳丿貨 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 賴卮鬲賲 賲丕賴 跇賵卅賳 爻丕賱 2009賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 倬乇賵蹖夭 丿丕乇蹖賵卮貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 丕爻丕胤蹖乇貙 1370貙 丿乇 318氐貨 賲賵囟賵毓 爻乇诏匕卮鬲賳丕賲賴貙 毓賳賵丕賳 丿蹖诏乇: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賲乇丿 賴賳乇丌賮乇蹖賳 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 賲賵囟賵毓 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 丕蹖乇賱賳丿 - 爻丿賴 20賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 趩賴乇賴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 賲賳賵趩賴乇 亘丿蹖毓蹖貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱賵賮乇貙 1380貙 丿乇 384氐貙 卮丕亘讴964448095貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 丿乇 466氐 爻丕賱 1385貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 爻蹖賲丕蹖 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕氐睾乇 噩賵蹖丕貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 丌亘丕丿丕賳貙 賳卮乇 倬乇爻卮貙 1381貙 丿乇 263氐貨 卮丕亘讴9646629717貨
毓賳賵丕賳: 趩賴乇賴 蹖讴 賲乇丿 賴賳乇賲賳丿 丿乇 噩賵丕賳蹖貨 丕孬乇: 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕賲蹖乇 毓賱蹖噩丕賳倬賵乇貨 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 丌賵丕蹖 賲讴鬲賵亘貙 1394貙 丿乇 288氐貨 卮丕亘讴9786007364093貨
丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 賲丕噩乇丕賴丕蹖 倬爻乇蹖 乇丕貙 丕夭 丿賵 爻丕賱诏蹖貙 鬲丕 亘蹖爻鬲 爻丕賱诏蹖貙 亘蹖丕賳 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 亘爻蹖丕乇 倬蹖趩蹖丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賵 丿乇 丌賳貙 亘賴 賲爻丕卅賱蹖 丕夭 芦丕蹖乇賱賳丿禄貙 芦丕賳爻丕賳禄貙 芦讴賵丿讴禄貙 芦鬲乇爻禄 賵 芦禺丿丕禄貙 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 賳丕賯丿丕賳 丌孬丕乇 蹖丕 賴賲丕賳 胤賵胤蹖丕賳 卮蹖乇蹖賳 诏賮鬲丕乇 倬蹖卮蹖賳貙 亘乇 丕蹖賳 亘丕賵乇 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 讴賴 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 賲賯丿賲賴 丕蹖 亘乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 芦丕賵賱蹖爻禄貙 卮丕賴讴丕乇 芦噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻禄 賳蹖夭 賴爻鬲貨 丕蹖賳 丕孬乇貙 亘賴鈥� 賳賵毓蹖貙 禺賵丿夭賳丿诏蹖鈥屬嗀з呝� 蹖 芦噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻禄 賴賲 賴爻鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 乇賵丕蹖鬲 乇賲丕賳 乇丕貙 讴賴 鬲賵爻胤 爻賵賲 卮禺氐 賲賮乇丿貙 亘蹖丕賳 卮丿賴貙 亘丕 匕賴賳蹖丕鬲 芦丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 丿乇 賴賲 丌賲蹖禺鬲賴貙 賵 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇貙 丿乇 亘禺卮賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 乇賲丕賳貙 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丕丿睾丕賲 芦乇賵丕蹖鬲禄貙 賵 芦匕賴賳蹖鬲禄貙 乇賵亘乇賵 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 亘賴 鬲賱丕卮貙 賵 賳賵爻丕賳丕鬲 乇賵丨蹖 芦丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 亘乇丕蹖 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖 乇賵丨卮貙 亘乇 毓賵丕賲賱 賲賳賮蹖 丿賵乇賵亘乇蹖 賴丕蹖 禺賵蹖卮 - 丕夭 噩賲賱賴 亘乇 乇賮鬲丕乇 賳丕賲賳丕爻亘 亘乇禺蹖 丕夭 丌賲賵夭诏丕乇丕賳貙 賵 禺卮賵賳鬲蹖 讴賴 亘蹖賳 倬爻乇賴丕蹖 賲丿乇爻賴貙 乇賵丕噩 丿丕乇丿 - 賳蹖夭 倬乇丿丕禺鬲賴鈥� 丕爻鬲貨 芦噩賵蹖爻禄 丿乇 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 乇賲丕賳貙 蹖毓賳蹖 芦丕爻鬲賮丕賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻禄貙 芦鬲乇丿蹖丿禄 賵 芦丌卮賮鬲诏蹖禄貙 賵 芦倬賵趩鈥屭必й屰� 賳爻賱 賳賵禄 乇丕 賴賲貙 亘賴 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇卮 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿賴鈥� 丕爻鬲貨 賳诏丕乇賳丿賴貙 丕夭 鬲賱賲蹖丨 (丕卮丕乇賴 亘賴 賯氐賴 蹖丕 卮毓乇) 賴賲 爻賵丿 亘乇丿賴貙 賵 亘丕 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 丕夭 賲鬲賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲賯丿爻貙 氐丨賳賴 賴丕蹖 芦賲乇诏禄 賵 芦賯蹖丕賲鬲禄 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 亘賳诏丕卮鬲賴 丕爻鬲
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 27/06/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 03/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
November 14, 2024
James Joyce is widely recognized as a great writer but often obscure. This almost autobiographical novel belies this reputation. We read it without difficulty and do not have to look for complicated literary ulterior motives. Stephen Dedalus, a character the author has featured in several books, is Joyce's alter ego. This "Portrait" shows a boy (first attending college) becoming a young adult. Everything is intelligible in this journey. Everything sounds authentic. But Joyce introduces us to an era and a country that seem very distant. At the end of the 19th century, Ireland was trying to enter the modern era, but it is still very archaic. The hold of the Catholic Church is heavy. She is compassionate inside the religious school where the young Stephen D. studies. The preachers' speeches - both soothing and terrifying - sound almost unbelievable. This pressure very powerfully influences the young boy. Also, the Eire is still under British law, causing severe divisions among the Irish (even now, there are substantial remnants in Ulster).
Therefore, there is a coexistence between an unmistakable authenticity (underlined by the numerous notes collected at the end of the book, which refers to his personal experience of Joyce) and the impression of strangeness I mentioned above that may surprise me. But this makes it a fascinating novel.
Therefore, there is a coexistence between an unmistakable authenticity (underlined by the numerous notes collected at the end of the book, which refers to his personal experience of Joyce) and the impression of strangeness I mentioned above that may surprise me. But this makes it a fascinating novel.
July 25, 2016
Forget The Perks of Being an Insufferable Wimp; forget the hollow, hipster-plasticity of Holden Cauliflower and his phony attempts at wry observations on adolescence; forget that clumsy excuse of an experimental storyteller that is Jonathan Safran Foer, aka 鈥淢eat is Murder鈥� Johnny, with his nauseating, gee-I-guess-our-hearts-really-are-just-too-big-to-fit-into-one-sentence-after-all mentality; forget all that useless bullshit, if, like me, you can pick up James Joyce鈥檚 The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and completely relate with a childhood defined by shyness and subservient silence that, with time and guidance, is fashioned into an all-encompassing fear of divine punishment for being a lowly, flesh-bound mongrel unworthy of its own creator鈥檚 love, which, in turn, precipitates a young adulthood embittered with resentment and characterized by self-loathing and drastic, vain attempts at appearing creatively intelligent as you hobnob with your college peers, those equally fucked-in-the-head fakes that use their given academic setting as a way of feeling validated and important, which is a bafflingly absurd denial of the eventual doldrums of disappointment and depression that is living a long life paired with the ability to actually form coherent, analytical thoughts that have no real value since they can鈥檛 be expressed in any meaningful way since you鈥檝e wisely given up your ivory-tower dreams of being the famous musician, the beloved artist, the acclaimed novelist, the sensational poet, one of those people whom more than a hundred people will ever know or actually care about and remember once he or she finally dies and discovers firsthand if their deepest, guilt-ridden fear of a snarling, reptilian DevilGod orbiting their every thought and action was always true.
June 26, 2021
Portrait of the Artist (1916) reads like the story of a missed priestly vocation and the dawn of a literary calling. 鈥淥nce upon a time and a very good time it was鈥� 鈥� introducing Stephen Dedalus, James Joyce鈥檚 alter ego, to be reencountered in . The novel follows Stephen through his learning years, back in late 19th-century BE-colonised Ireland: episodic scenes about his family, divided between their orthodox Catholicism and the Irish nationalist movement, his upbringing at Clongowes Wood boarding school and the indoctrination imparted by the Jesuits, and finally the years at University College Dublin, and his decision to become a poet. In a way, this is as much a 碍眉苍蝉迟濒别谤谤辞尘补苍 (fancy for artist-coming-of-age) as Proust鈥檚 (mod length and content): Stephen becomes Joyce, just like Marcel becomes Proust.
The brutal, prison-like atmosphere and the teaching methods inside Clongowes Catholic school form a bewildering picture: the bullying among boys, the corporal punishments sadistically administered at every turn, the constant conscience-pricking, the thorough brainwashing with holy water. The series of formidable Father Arnall mindfucking sermons in ch. 3 about Death, Judgement and the roster of multi-layered torments of Hell are particularly enthralling. Even doesn鈥檛 get quite as graphic in his descriptions of flames, darkness, stench and the outrageous and endless throes that the damned souls must endure for the smallest of lapses during their lifetime (e.g. giving oneself a hand). But, contrary to Dante, the sermons in Portrait of the Artist are ironic and slightly blasphemous pastiches, similar to Flaubert鈥檚 , with subtle undertones of and the 鈥�divin鈥� .
On the whole, and even though Stephen Dedalus eventually loses faith, it is pretty evident that his outlook on art and literature is super-saturated with Christian doctrine. Latin quotations abound, philosophical ideas refer almost entirely to medieval theology 鈥� , , and (the Doctor Angelicus鈥檚 bedside reading). Joyce demonstrates a scrupulous erudition regarding Aristotle鈥檚 and Aquinas鈥檚 philosophy, particularly concerning aesthetics: during one of the many dialogues between Stephen and his friend Cranly (Everyman鈥檚 Library, pp. 265-267), the attributes of beauty established by Aquinas 鈥� integritas, consonantia and claritas 鈥� are laid out with surprising precision. The same is true of the condensed lecture on lyrical/epical/dramatic forms (pp. 268-269). Moreover, how these dialogues unfold is redolent of the philosophical disputationes found in medieval scholastic texts such as the or the works of .
Joyce blends all this in with the local colour of Irish daily life, stout and drisheens, and some bursts of poetic flourish. Still, underneath all the philosophical discourse, and precisely within these effusive eruptions in Joyce鈥檚 prose and the haphazard composition of the novel we are reading, another disruptive form of aesthetics or poetry, musical, sensual and rhythmical, knocking Aristotle and the English language around, is germinating.
Speaking of which, 鈥檚 appreciation for the works of James Joyce is noteworthy here. Both Joyce and Eco received a strict Catholic education. Like Joyce鈥檚 writings, Eco peppered his essays and novels with Latin quotes and references to the Church Fathers 鈥� in the same way, say, makes constant reference to tennis. Eco鈥檚 thesis, , is nothing else than an extended version of the micro-lectures mentioned above between Dedalus and Cranly. In short, and (and and ) are modern authors with medieval souls.
Further still and finally, the whole of Portrait of the Artist could be construed as an inverted image of St Augustine鈥檚 . Augustine expressed his gratitude to God for turning him away from his dissolute and lustful youth and converting him to asceticism and religion. Meanwhile, Joyce describes Stephen Dedalus鈥檚 youth as a time of moral torment, sporadic debauchery, romantic encounters and brief glimpses of joy (the epiphany at Dollymount Strand). But, in the end, Dedalus decides to follow the call of the wading bird-girl, emerge beneath the Church鈥檚 authority, divert himself away from his family and homeland, and flee into 鈥渟ilence, exile and cunning鈥� (p. 310).
To be continued, then, in Ulysses.
The brutal, prison-like atmosphere and the teaching methods inside Clongowes Catholic school form a bewildering picture: the bullying among boys, the corporal punishments sadistically administered at every turn, the constant conscience-pricking, the thorough brainwashing with holy water. The series of formidable Father Arnall mindfucking sermons in ch. 3 about Death, Judgement and the roster of multi-layered torments of Hell are particularly enthralling. Even doesn鈥檛 get quite as graphic in his descriptions of flames, darkness, stench and the outrageous and endless throes that the damned souls must endure for the smallest of lapses during their lifetime (e.g. giving oneself a hand). But, contrary to Dante, the sermons in Portrait of the Artist are ironic and slightly blasphemous pastiches, similar to Flaubert鈥檚 , with subtle undertones of and the 鈥�divin鈥� .
On the whole, and even though Stephen Dedalus eventually loses faith, it is pretty evident that his outlook on art and literature is super-saturated with Christian doctrine. Latin quotations abound, philosophical ideas refer almost entirely to medieval theology 鈥� , , and (the Doctor Angelicus鈥檚 bedside reading). Joyce demonstrates a scrupulous erudition regarding Aristotle鈥檚 and Aquinas鈥檚 philosophy, particularly concerning aesthetics: during one of the many dialogues between Stephen and his friend Cranly (Everyman鈥檚 Library, pp. 265-267), the attributes of beauty established by Aquinas 鈥� integritas, consonantia and claritas 鈥� are laid out with surprising precision. The same is true of the condensed lecture on lyrical/epical/dramatic forms (pp. 268-269). Moreover, how these dialogues unfold is redolent of the philosophical disputationes found in medieval scholastic texts such as the or the works of .
Joyce blends all this in with the local colour of Irish daily life, stout and drisheens, and some bursts of poetic flourish. Still, underneath all the philosophical discourse, and precisely within these effusive eruptions in Joyce鈥檚 prose and the haphazard composition of the novel we are reading, another disruptive form of aesthetics or poetry, musical, sensual and rhythmical, knocking Aristotle and the English language around, is germinating.
Speaking of which, 鈥檚 appreciation for the works of James Joyce is noteworthy here. Both Joyce and Eco received a strict Catholic education. Like Joyce鈥檚 writings, Eco peppered his essays and novels with Latin quotes and references to the Church Fathers 鈥� in the same way, say, makes constant reference to tennis. Eco鈥檚 thesis, , is nothing else than an extended version of the micro-lectures mentioned above between Dedalus and Cranly. In short, and (and and ) are modern authors with medieval souls.
Further still and finally, the whole of Portrait of the Artist could be construed as an inverted image of St Augustine鈥檚 . Augustine expressed his gratitude to God for turning him away from his dissolute and lustful youth and converting him to asceticism and religion. Meanwhile, Joyce describes Stephen Dedalus鈥檚 youth as a time of moral torment, sporadic debauchery, romantic encounters and brief glimpses of joy (the epiphany at Dollymount Strand). But, in the end, Dedalus decides to follow the call of the wading bird-girl, emerge beneath the Church鈥檚 authority, divert himself away from his family and homeland, and flee into 鈥渟ilence, exile and cunning鈥� (p. 310).
To be continued, then, in Ulysses.
February 24, 2014
"Et ignotas animum dimittit in artes鈥�(And he sets his mind to unknown arts.)
- Ovid
Metamorphoses
The above mentioned quote from Ovid, which appears at the start of the work, best describes the conclusion of a journey of an artist through his self, trying to come up with things that matter most, while still trying to discern his place in this world.
I still remember the day, when as a teenager, ready to explore the world around me, I, once looked up in the sky, which was sunny and inspiring, and said 鈥淚 wish I could fly so high in the sky that it could take me in its arms!!鈥� That was a wishful fancy. My class group laughed at me, one even expressing her contempt at such a childish sham. That was a moment of revelation for me, a moment when I realized how important it was to set one鈥檚 mind free. I was disheartened, because it became apparent that they were not receptive, not receptive to life itself.
The reading of 鈥淎 Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man鈥� made me remember that instant; that instant, which I recall as one of the most memorable moments of my life. This work by Joyce has taken me down a memory lane, like Proust did :), but unlike Proust, it has made me remember and define those moments which have considerably influenced my thoughts and ideas. Those moments which have, over a time, asked me to break away from the well accepted conventions, if not to live the life of an artist, but then, to be a being that is conscious and hence, living.
This work, which is considered to be semi-autobiographical, captures the mind of Stephen Dedalus effectively and renders the 鈥淧ortrait鈥� strikingly, without any transition. As Langdon Hammer, in the introduction, said, 鈥淥ver its decade long composition, the creator of Portrait refined almost out of existence, a key device of novelistic convention: the narrator.鈥� This comes from the theory; Joyce gives at the end of the work:
鈥淭he personality of the Artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalises itself, so to speak. The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.鈥�
So, what we get, as a result is the revelation of characters鈥� inner stream of thoughts, without us going through the narrative translation. This style of stream of consciousness, as employed by the author, has made me a Joyce fan. I was astonished to behold the expressions of Stephen, his thoughts, his anxiety, his moment of epiphany. It wasn鈥檛 as he experienced them; it was like I myself was going through those moments of reflection. Specifically, where he questioned his faith and religion, his duties and responsibilities as a Christian, more so when offered an entrance into the service of altar.
Starting from his childhood, there were many beautiful expressions which reflected the development of his consciousness; the expressions, which held you captive for their simple representation. But the most enrapturing ones came toward the end of the work, when Stephen attained a more rational approach. I am only going to quote a couple of my favorites:
鈥淗is throat ached with a desire to cry aloud, the cry of a hawk or eagle on high, to cry piercingly of his deliverance to the winds. This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain.鈥�
His moment of epiphany:
鈥淗er image had passed into his soul for ever and no word had broken the holy silence of his ecstasy. Her eyes had called him and his soul had leaped at the call. To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life! A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all ways of error and glory. On and on and on and on.鈥�
It is here that Stephan comes to acknowledge that it is not a sin to appreciate beauty. That it is beautiful to live, to err, to triumph and to fall even. That it is beautiful indeed to be a human being, to live in consciousness and to acknowledge yourself for who you are.
- Ovid
Metamorphoses
The above mentioned quote from Ovid, which appears at the start of the work, best describes the conclusion of a journey of an artist through his self, trying to come up with things that matter most, while still trying to discern his place in this world.
I still remember the day, when as a teenager, ready to explore the world around me, I, once looked up in the sky, which was sunny and inspiring, and said 鈥淚 wish I could fly so high in the sky that it could take me in its arms!!鈥� That was a wishful fancy. My class group laughed at me, one even expressing her contempt at such a childish sham. That was a moment of revelation for me, a moment when I realized how important it was to set one鈥檚 mind free. I was disheartened, because it became apparent that they were not receptive, not receptive to life itself.
The reading of 鈥淎 Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man鈥� made me remember that instant; that instant, which I recall as one of the most memorable moments of my life. This work by Joyce has taken me down a memory lane, like Proust did :), but unlike Proust, it has made me remember and define those moments which have considerably influenced my thoughts and ideas. Those moments which have, over a time, asked me to break away from the well accepted conventions, if not to live the life of an artist, but then, to be a being that is conscious and hence, living.
This work, which is considered to be semi-autobiographical, captures the mind of Stephen Dedalus effectively and renders the 鈥淧ortrait鈥� strikingly, without any transition. As Langdon Hammer, in the introduction, said, 鈥淥ver its decade long composition, the creator of Portrait refined almost out of existence, a key device of novelistic convention: the narrator.鈥� This comes from the theory; Joyce gives at the end of the work:
鈥淭he personality of the Artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalises itself, so to speak. The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.鈥�
So, what we get, as a result is the revelation of characters鈥� inner stream of thoughts, without us going through the narrative translation. This style of stream of consciousness, as employed by the author, has made me a Joyce fan. I was astonished to behold the expressions of Stephen, his thoughts, his anxiety, his moment of epiphany. It wasn鈥檛 as he experienced them; it was like I myself was going through those moments of reflection. Specifically, where he questioned his faith and religion, his duties and responsibilities as a Christian, more so when offered an entrance into the service of altar.
Starting from his childhood, there were many beautiful expressions which reflected the development of his consciousness; the expressions, which held you captive for their simple representation. But the most enrapturing ones came toward the end of the work, when Stephen attained a more rational approach. I am only going to quote a couple of my favorites:
鈥淗is throat ached with a desire to cry aloud, the cry of a hawk or eagle on high, to cry piercingly of his deliverance to the winds. This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain.鈥�
His moment of epiphany:
鈥淗er image had passed into his soul for ever and no word had broken the holy silence of his ecstasy. Her eyes had called him and his soul had leaped at the call. To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life! A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all ways of error and glory. On and on and on and on.鈥�
It is here that Stephan comes to acknowledge that it is not a sin to appreciate beauty. That it is beautiful to live, to err, to triumph and to fall even. That it is beautiful indeed to be a human being, to live in consciousness and to acknowledge yourself for who you are.
June 18, 2009
This book is a very dry, written version of the Dead Poet鈥檚 Society without Robin Williams. I was already grateful to Whoopi Goldberg this week for her reasonable comments about the most recent Sarah Palin ridiculousness, so I feel kind of bitter at having to be grateful for the other half of that daring duo. I had sworn them as my nemeses 鈥� minor nemeses, yes, of nowhere near the caliber of , , or , but nemeses nonetheless. Now, I find myself thinking, 鈥淚t鈥檚 a good thing Whoopi is on the View. Otherwise it might turn into some kind of evil vortex,鈥� and 鈥淚t鈥檚 a good thing that Robin Williams was in Dead Poet鈥檚 Society, otherwise those kids all would have been running around having conversations like I鈥檓 reading right now.鈥� What type of conversations am I referring to, you ask? Here is an example from when Stephen is, I believe, supposed to be around 12 years old:
鈥�-- And who is the best poet, Heron? asked Boland.
鈥�-- Lord Tennyson, of course, answered Heron.
鈥�-- O, yes, Lord Tennyson, said Nash. We have all his poetry at home in a book.
鈥淎t this Stephen forgot the silent vows he had been making and burst out:
鈥�-- Tennyson a poet! Why, he's only a rhymester!
鈥�-- O, get out! said Heron. Everyone knows that Tennyson is the greatest poet.
鈥�-- And who do you think is the greatest poet? asked Boland, nudging his neighbour.
鈥�-- Byron, of course, answered Stephen.
鈥淗eron gave the lead and all three joined in a scornful laugh.
鈥�-- What are you laughing at? asked Stephen.
鈥�-- You, said Heron. Byron the greatest poet! He's only a poet for uneducated people.
鈥�-- He must be a fine poet! said Boland.
鈥�-- You may keep your mouth shut, said Stephen, turning on him boldly. All you know about poetry is what you wrote up on the slates in the yard and were going to be sent to the loft for.
鈥淏oland, in fact, was said to have written on the slates in the yard a couplet about a classmate of his who often rode home from the college on a pony:
鈥淎s Tyson was riding into Jerusalem
He fell and hurt his Alec Kafoozelum.
鈥淭his thrust put the two lieutenants to silence but Heron went on:
鈥�-- In any case Byron was a heretic and immoral too.
鈥�-- I don't care what he was, cried Stephen hotly.
鈥�-- You don't care whether he was a heretic or not? said Nash.
鈥�-- What do you know about it? shouted Stephen. You never read a line of anything in your life except a trans, or Boland either.
鈥�-- I know that Byron was a bad man, said Boland.
鈥�-- Here, catch hold of this heretic, Heron called out. In a moment Stephen was a prisoner.
鈥�-- Tate made you buck up the other day, Heron went on, about the heresy in your essay.
鈥�-- I'll tell him tomorrow, said Boland.
鈥�-- Will you? said Stephen. You'd be afraid to open your lips.
鈥�-- Afraid?
鈥�-- Ay. Afraid of your life.
鈥�-- Behave yourself! cried Heron, cutting at Stephen's legs with his cane.
鈥淚t was the signal for their onset. Nash pinioned his arms behind while Boland seized a long cabbage stump which was lying in the gutter. Struggling and kicking under the cuts of the cane and the blows of the knotty stump Stephen was borne back against a barbed wire fence.
鈥�-- Admit that Byron was no good.
鈥�-- No.
鈥�-- Admit.
鈥�-- No.
鈥�-- Admit.
鈥�-- No. No.
鈥淎t last after a fury of plunges he wrenched himself free. His tormentors set off towards Jones's Road, laughing and jeering at him, while he, half blinded with tears, stumbled on, clenching his fists madly and sobbing.鈥�
Who are these kids? The Grand Inquisitor? I don鈥檛 know, maybe the boys in the Dead Poets Society were having conversations like that, even with their fun-lovin鈥� teacher. It鈥檚 been years since I saw it. I really wish Robin Williams had come and slapped Stephen Dedalus around for a little while somewhere in this book, though. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a perfect example of how I instinctively dislike people who aren鈥檛 funny. And if you tell me that he actually is funny, I say to you that if it takes you longer than 1 minute to explain the joke and at the end of explanation it leaves me with only a vague uneasy feeling, it doesn鈥檛 count. The following passage comes closest to being funny of any passage in the book (but still, yawn! Also, note to Joyce, 鈥渢undish鈥� is not that interesting a word 鈥� Wikipedia, usually so long-winded, barely gives it a page: ):
鈥�-- One difficulty, said Stephen, in esthetic discussion is to know whether words are being used according to the literary tradition or according to the tradition of the marketplace. I remember a sentence of Newman's in which he says of the Blessed Virgin that she was detained in the full company of the saints. The use of the word in the marketplace is quite different. I hope I am not detaining you.
鈥�-- Not in the least, said the dean politely.
鈥�-- No, no, said Stephen, smiling, I mean --
鈥�-- Yes, yes; I see, said the dean quickly, I quite catch the point: detain.
鈥淗e thrust forward his under jaw and uttered a dry short cough.
鈥�-- To return to the lamp, he said, the feeding of it is also a nice problem. You must choose the pure oil and you must be careful when you pour it in not to overflow it, not to pour in more than the funnel can hold.
鈥�-- What funnel? asked Stephen.
鈥�-- The funnel through which you pour the oil into your lamp.
鈥�-- That? said Stephen. Is that called a funnel? Is it not a tundish?
鈥�-- What is a tundish?
鈥�-- That. The funnel.
鈥�-- Is that called a tundish in Ireland? asked the dean. I never heard the word in my life.
鈥�-- It is called a tundish in Lower Drumcondra, said Stephen, laughing, where they speak the best English.
鈥�-- A tundish, said the dean reflectively. That is a most interesting word. I must look that word up. Upon my word I must.鈥�
I kind of want to see Holden Caulfield and Stephen Dedalus cage fight, or at least hear Holden talk for a little while about what a phony good ol鈥� Dedalus is.
I did not hate this book as much as I thought I would, to be quite honest. A lot of readers that I have great respect for have told me this book is completely unbearable, and is so persuasively critical of Joyce in her . I don鈥檛 know about unbearable. It has mostly unbearable parts, but a couple of bearable boogey-man Catholic Church parts. I can handle the dramatic conversion chapter, but mostly Stephen is such a pipsqueak!
This book fails to be transcendent in my opinion. By that I mean that I believe it does try to be timeless 鈥� and fails. I know the counterargument is that it is documenting a specific time and culture. I get that. So are , , and , though, and they are still fun or tragic and reflective of some basic humanity. Things happen in them. A Portrait of the Artist鈥�, if it is reflective of anything, is reflective of self-absorbed young men, and that is a culture I find it impossible to be patient with. Sorry guys! I want to 鈥渁ccidentally鈥� spill things on your record collections and replace your hair gel with Nair. I think we should go our separate ways.
Goodreaders, I do not forbid you from reading this book, as it is unquestionably influential, but I do warn you that if you are bothered by the use of the word 鈥渕oocow鈥� in the first sentence, you may not like the rest. Also, don鈥檛 listen to the audio version. The reader is a slow-talking, simpery-voiced, Joycian. I鈥檓 sure he鈥檚 a veryniceperson, and I apologize if I have been scathing. So that you are not left with the impression that I 鈥渉ate everything鈥�, which I have been criticized for in the past, and to end on a positive note, I leave you with a summary of the things mentioned in this review that I love: , , lamp, , Holden Caulfield, , , and . Things I love also include, but are not limited to, baby animals, ice cream, , and the Velvet Underground, if you want to know.
鈥�-- And who is the best poet, Heron? asked Boland.
鈥�-- Lord Tennyson, of course, answered Heron.
鈥�-- O, yes, Lord Tennyson, said Nash. We have all his poetry at home in a book.
鈥淎t this Stephen forgot the silent vows he had been making and burst out:
鈥�-- Tennyson a poet! Why, he's only a rhymester!
鈥�-- O, get out! said Heron. Everyone knows that Tennyson is the greatest poet.
鈥�-- And who do you think is the greatest poet? asked Boland, nudging his neighbour.
鈥�-- Byron, of course, answered Stephen.
鈥淗eron gave the lead and all three joined in a scornful laugh.
鈥�-- What are you laughing at? asked Stephen.
鈥�-- You, said Heron. Byron the greatest poet! He's only a poet for uneducated people.
鈥�-- He must be a fine poet! said Boland.
鈥�-- You may keep your mouth shut, said Stephen, turning on him boldly. All you know about poetry is what you wrote up on the slates in the yard and were going to be sent to the loft for.
鈥淏oland, in fact, was said to have written on the slates in the yard a couplet about a classmate of his who often rode home from the college on a pony:
鈥淎s Tyson was riding into Jerusalem
He fell and hurt his Alec Kafoozelum.
鈥淭his thrust put the two lieutenants to silence but Heron went on:
鈥�-- In any case Byron was a heretic and immoral too.
鈥�-- I don't care what he was, cried Stephen hotly.
鈥�-- You don't care whether he was a heretic or not? said Nash.
鈥�-- What do you know about it? shouted Stephen. You never read a line of anything in your life except a trans, or Boland either.
鈥�-- I know that Byron was a bad man, said Boland.
鈥�-- Here, catch hold of this heretic, Heron called out. In a moment Stephen was a prisoner.
鈥�-- Tate made you buck up the other day, Heron went on, about the heresy in your essay.
鈥�-- I'll tell him tomorrow, said Boland.
鈥�-- Will you? said Stephen. You'd be afraid to open your lips.
鈥�-- Afraid?
鈥�-- Ay. Afraid of your life.
鈥�-- Behave yourself! cried Heron, cutting at Stephen's legs with his cane.
鈥淚t was the signal for their onset. Nash pinioned his arms behind while Boland seized a long cabbage stump which was lying in the gutter. Struggling and kicking under the cuts of the cane and the blows of the knotty stump Stephen was borne back against a barbed wire fence.
鈥�-- Admit that Byron was no good.
鈥�-- No.
鈥�-- Admit.
鈥�-- No.
鈥�-- Admit.
鈥�-- No. No.
鈥淎t last after a fury of plunges he wrenched himself free. His tormentors set off towards Jones's Road, laughing and jeering at him, while he, half blinded with tears, stumbled on, clenching his fists madly and sobbing.鈥�
Who are these kids? The Grand Inquisitor? I don鈥檛 know, maybe the boys in the Dead Poets Society were having conversations like that, even with their fun-lovin鈥� teacher. It鈥檚 been years since I saw it. I really wish Robin Williams had come and slapped Stephen Dedalus around for a little while somewhere in this book, though. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is a perfect example of how I instinctively dislike people who aren鈥檛 funny. And if you tell me that he actually is funny, I say to you that if it takes you longer than 1 minute to explain the joke and at the end of explanation it leaves me with only a vague uneasy feeling, it doesn鈥檛 count. The following passage comes closest to being funny of any passage in the book (but still, yawn! Also, note to Joyce, 鈥渢undish鈥� is not that interesting a word 鈥� Wikipedia, usually so long-winded, barely gives it a page: ):
鈥�-- One difficulty, said Stephen, in esthetic discussion is to know whether words are being used according to the literary tradition or according to the tradition of the marketplace. I remember a sentence of Newman's in which he says of the Blessed Virgin that she was detained in the full company of the saints. The use of the word in the marketplace is quite different. I hope I am not detaining you.
鈥�-- Not in the least, said the dean politely.
鈥�-- No, no, said Stephen, smiling, I mean --
鈥�-- Yes, yes; I see, said the dean quickly, I quite catch the point: detain.
鈥淗e thrust forward his under jaw and uttered a dry short cough.
鈥�-- To return to the lamp, he said, the feeding of it is also a nice problem. You must choose the pure oil and you must be careful when you pour it in not to overflow it, not to pour in more than the funnel can hold.
鈥�-- What funnel? asked Stephen.
鈥�-- The funnel through which you pour the oil into your lamp.
鈥�-- That? said Stephen. Is that called a funnel? Is it not a tundish?
鈥�-- What is a tundish?
鈥�-- That. The funnel.
鈥�-- Is that called a tundish in Ireland? asked the dean. I never heard the word in my life.
鈥�-- It is called a tundish in Lower Drumcondra, said Stephen, laughing, where they speak the best English.
鈥�-- A tundish, said the dean reflectively. That is a most interesting word. I must look that word up. Upon my word I must.鈥�
I kind of want to see Holden Caulfield and Stephen Dedalus cage fight, or at least hear Holden talk for a little while about what a phony good ol鈥� Dedalus is.
I did not hate this book as much as I thought I would, to be quite honest. A lot of readers that I have great respect for have told me this book is completely unbearable, and is so persuasively critical of Joyce in her . I don鈥檛 know about unbearable. It has mostly unbearable parts, but a couple of bearable boogey-man Catholic Church parts. I can handle the dramatic conversion chapter, but mostly Stephen is such a pipsqueak!
This book fails to be transcendent in my opinion. By that I mean that I believe it does try to be timeless 鈥� and fails. I know the counterargument is that it is documenting a specific time and culture. I get that. So are , , and , though, and they are still fun or tragic and reflective of some basic humanity. Things happen in them. A Portrait of the Artist鈥�, if it is reflective of anything, is reflective of self-absorbed young men, and that is a culture I find it impossible to be patient with. Sorry guys! I want to 鈥渁ccidentally鈥� spill things on your record collections and replace your hair gel with Nair. I think we should go our separate ways.
Goodreaders, I do not forbid you from reading this book, as it is unquestionably influential, but I do warn you that if you are bothered by the use of the word 鈥渕oocow鈥� in the first sentence, you may not like the rest. Also, don鈥檛 listen to the audio version. The reader is a slow-talking, simpery-voiced, Joycian. I鈥檓 sure he鈥檚 a veryniceperson, and I apologize if I have been scathing. So that you are not left with the impression that I 鈥渉ate everything鈥�, which I have been criticized for in the past, and to end on a positive note, I leave you with a summary of the things mentioned in this review that I love: , , lamp, , Holden Caulfield, , , and . Things I love also include, but are not limited to, baby animals, ice cream, , and the Velvet Underground, if you want to know.
February 10, 2017
I read this back in high school (and a few times since) and it blew my mind. The textual maturity grows as Stephen Daedalus grows and it is absolutely captivating. The scene where his knuckles are beaten in class (thank goodness we have moved beyond corporal punishment in schools for the most part!) was so real that my hands ached. You of course see Stephen Daedalus again in Stephen Hero as well as Ulysses.
A must read.
A must read.
December 28, 2023
"-Usted es un artista, 驴no es verdad, D茅dalus? -dijo el decano levantando la cara y gui帽ando los ojos descoloridos-. El fin del artista es la creaci贸n de lo bello. Qu茅 sea bello, eso ya es otra cuesti贸n."
Con el correr del tiempo y de las lecturas de sus libros, James Joyce se ha transformado en un escritor realmente interesante para m铆. Su maestr铆a literaria y su genialidad narrativa lo transforman en un artista todo terreno. Adem谩s de 鈥淒ublineses鈥�, libro que pienso releer pronto, de 鈥淯lises鈥� que mi gran desaf铆o literario cumplido el a帽o pasado y del que leer茅 este a帽o, me refiero al 鈥淔innegan鈥檚 Wake鈥� y este libro que pasa a formar parte de aquellas novelas que leo con tranquilidad, dej谩ndome llevar por su forma tan po茅tica y amena al relatar y que me dejan un recuerdo agradable cuando las termino. En ella relata la etapa inicial en la vida de Stephen Dedalus, desde sus tres a帽os hasta sus a帽os universitarios sin dejar inconcluso el paso por la ni帽ez, la pubertad y la adolescencia. Es de destacar la forma en que acompa帽a transcurso de los a帽os del personaje y este proceso es identificado claramente en los di谩logos y en la forma de pensar de Dedalus.
Este es uno de los libros m谩s 鈥渆ntendibles鈥� del gran autor irland茅s junto con 鈥淒ublineses鈥� puesto que todav铆a no utiliza en forma desenfrenada su famosa invenci贸n del 鈥渟tream of conciousness鈥� o 鈥渕on贸logo interior鈥� como tampoco esa parafernalia ling眉铆stica que enloquece o desorienta al lector en "Ulises", sino un tratamiento del 鈥渆stilo indirecto libre鈥�, di谩logos perfectamente construidos, narraci贸n cl谩sica en tercera persona y un final con unas cuantas fechas anotadas en un diario (primera persona) escrito por Dedalus.
Stephen, quien ser谩 uno de los protagonistas principales junto con Leopold Bloom en 鈥淯lises鈥� se nos presenta aqu铆 como una persona sensible, de nobles sentimientos y genuinos ideales que son puestos a prueba a partir de su f茅rrea educaci贸n religiosa en distintas escuelas jesuitas especialmente las de Clongowes y Belvedere. Y es en este aspecto en donde nos encontramos a Joyce tratando el tema de la religi贸n en todos sus aspectos. Los personajes vuelcan sus ideas y definen sus pensamientos defendiendo la doctrina cat贸lica como conden谩ndola desde distintos puntos de vista y todos son v谩lidos.
Dedalus marca claramente la diferencia como el alumno distinto, altamente dotado de los mejores atributos intelectuales, una innata predisposici贸n para la poes铆a y de una marcada sensibilidad art铆stica que se complementa con su personalidad tan especial y noble.
Es que en un momento de su vida, Stephen se siente agobiado al auto inculparse por su vida promiscua, pecadora y desenfrenada. Se siente acorralado y piensa que Dios lo castigar谩 sin compasi贸n, se pierde en sufrimientos y elucubraciones que lo atormentan y todo ello eclosiona luego de asistir en la Iglesia al serm贸n que da el padre Arnall. Y aqu铆 hago un p谩rrafo aparte para destacar algo:
pocas veces en la literatura he le铆do una porci贸n de texto que me absorbiera y me shockeara tanto como la descripci贸n tan aterrorizante y detallada que utiliza Joyce para contarnos c贸mo es, seg煤n 茅l, el infierno. La manera tan v铆vida, asfixiante y atormentadora con la describe los tormentos que sufren los condenados har铆a quedar realmente helado al mism铆simo Dante Alighieri.
En muy pocas p谩ginas, no s贸lo nos clarifica perfectamente c贸mo es el juicio final sino que estas pocas p谩ginas alcanzan para equiparar la descripci贸n del infierno que Dante le lleva todo el primer libro de la Divina Comedia. Realmente escalofriante.
Finalmente, rescato y reconozco nuevamente algo que ya hab铆a hecho luego de leer el "Ulises" y es ese dominio total que James Joyce ten铆a del mapa de Irlanda en su cabeza y creo que funciona como un complemento del recorrido que Dedalus y Bloom realizan en "Ulises". Si uno quiere visitar alg煤n d铆a Irlanda tan s贸lo necesita identificar cada una de las calles, pueblos y ciudades que marca Joyce en sus novelas para tener solucionado como deber铆a ser un aut茅ntico circuito tur铆stico de Irlanda.
Excelente libro, recomendable, con dosis po茅ticas de alto calibre y con el sello inconfundible de este genio que se llam贸 James Joyce.
Con el correr del tiempo y de las lecturas de sus libros, James Joyce se ha transformado en un escritor realmente interesante para m铆. Su maestr铆a literaria y su genialidad narrativa lo transforman en un artista todo terreno. Adem谩s de 鈥淒ublineses鈥�, libro que pienso releer pronto, de 鈥淯lises鈥� que mi gran desaf铆o literario cumplido el a帽o pasado y del que leer茅 este a帽o, me refiero al 鈥淔innegan鈥檚 Wake鈥� y este libro que pasa a formar parte de aquellas novelas que leo con tranquilidad, dej谩ndome llevar por su forma tan po茅tica y amena al relatar y que me dejan un recuerdo agradable cuando las termino. En ella relata la etapa inicial en la vida de Stephen Dedalus, desde sus tres a帽os hasta sus a帽os universitarios sin dejar inconcluso el paso por la ni帽ez, la pubertad y la adolescencia. Es de destacar la forma en que acompa帽a transcurso de los a帽os del personaje y este proceso es identificado claramente en los di谩logos y en la forma de pensar de Dedalus.
Este es uno de los libros m谩s 鈥渆ntendibles鈥� del gran autor irland茅s junto con 鈥淒ublineses鈥� puesto que todav铆a no utiliza en forma desenfrenada su famosa invenci贸n del 鈥渟tream of conciousness鈥� o 鈥渕on贸logo interior鈥� como tampoco esa parafernalia ling眉铆stica que enloquece o desorienta al lector en "Ulises", sino un tratamiento del 鈥渆stilo indirecto libre鈥�, di谩logos perfectamente construidos, narraci贸n cl谩sica en tercera persona y un final con unas cuantas fechas anotadas en un diario (primera persona) escrito por Dedalus.
Stephen, quien ser谩 uno de los protagonistas principales junto con Leopold Bloom en 鈥淯lises鈥� se nos presenta aqu铆 como una persona sensible, de nobles sentimientos y genuinos ideales que son puestos a prueba a partir de su f茅rrea educaci贸n religiosa en distintas escuelas jesuitas especialmente las de Clongowes y Belvedere. Y es en este aspecto en donde nos encontramos a Joyce tratando el tema de la religi贸n en todos sus aspectos. Los personajes vuelcan sus ideas y definen sus pensamientos defendiendo la doctrina cat贸lica como conden谩ndola desde distintos puntos de vista y todos son v谩lidos.
Dedalus marca claramente la diferencia como el alumno distinto, altamente dotado de los mejores atributos intelectuales, una innata predisposici贸n para la poes铆a y de una marcada sensibilidad art铆stica que se complementa con su personalidad tan especial y noble.
Es que en un momento de su vida, Stephen se siente agobiado al auto inculparse por su vida promiscua, pecadora y desenfrenada. Se siente acorralado y piensa que Dios lo castigar谩 sin compasi贸n, se pierde en sufrimientos y elucubraciones que lo atormentan y todo ello eclosiona luego de asistir en la Iglesia al serm贸n que da el padre Arnall. Y aqu铆 hago un p谩rrafo aparte para destacar algo:
pocas veces en la literatura he le铆do una porci贸n de texto que me absorbiera y me shockeara tanto como la descripci贸n tan aterrorizante y detallada que utiliza Joyce para contarnos c贸mo es, seg煤n 茅l, el infierno. La manera tan v铆vida, asfixiante y atormentadora con la describe los tormentos que sufren los condenados har铆a quedar realmente helado al mism铆simo Dante Alighieri.
En muy pocas p谩ginas, no s贸lo nos clarifica perfectamente c贸mo es el juicio final sino que estas pocas p谩ginas alcanzan para equiparar la descripci贸n del infierno que Dante le lleva todo el primer libro de la Divina Comedia. Realmente escalofriante.
Finalmente, rescato y reconozco nuevamente algo que ya hab铆a hecho luego de leer el "Ulises" y es ese dominio total que James Joyce ten铆a del mapa de Irlanda en su cabeza y creo que funciona como un complemento del recorrido que Dedalus y Bloom realizan en "Ulises". Si uno quiere visitar alg煤n d铆a Irlanda tan s贸lo necesita identificar cada una de las calles, pueblos y ciudades que marca Joyce en sus novelas para tener solucionado como deber铆a ser un aut茅ntico circuito tur铆stico de Irlanda.
Excelente libro, recomendable, con dosis po茅ticas de alto calibre y con el sello inconfundible de este genio que se llam贸 James Joyce.
January 18, 2025
James Joyce is noted for ambiguous narratives and his first novel is no exception, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Quite autobiographical in nature , his moods revealed on the page in stream of conscious words, they flow out perpetually. I grant not the easiest way to communicate to the reader, set in late 19th century Dublin, Ireland. Stephen Dedalus (James Joyce) an awkward boy with few friends from a family of ten children. A timid, lonely soul and his old, intelligent father Simon takes a nip or two of alcoholic beverages just to keep warm on frigid nights, between jobs, there are many chills in Dublin, the suffering mother Mary very religious often scolds her son for missing Mass, but Stephen a bright bookworm has doubts. With a mind full of never ending turmoil, feels rather uncomfortable in British ruled and Catholic dominated land. Politics is frequently spoken about at home, in the streets, the father a nationalist and rumors of another uprising a daily occurrence , however the public just talks. Young Dedalus is more interested in the arts, writing, singing and even in local theater , and acts in plays while attending schools taught by able priests. He often has discourses with the clergy and friends, of Saints, Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine, Ignatius Loyola and Plato, Aristotle, others who are now obscure writers, poets, powerful humans forgotten today, but famous a century ago in the distant past. Cranly his best friend at the university speaks of many subjects too and conflicts...to be honest arguments mostly about religion, politics, literature, including excuse me, soiled dove women, disagreements unresolved nevertheless, the student always questioning, the now Mr. Stephen Dedalus has growing feelings of unrest also, doesn't belong in his native country anymore. I've devoured a lot of classics but must confess not the most fun read or coherent, quite numerous times was unsure what the author was saying or which part of the story it is in. A stream of conscious is like a man throwing out a bucket full of trash from his house into the street and some poor devil walking by digs down to the bottom to find a few nuggets if possible, not a happy situation. Books I believe should be somewhat entertaining even educational for the audience, otherwise a person could write the greatest book, critics praise it to high heaven and nobody reads ...what good has the author accomplished ?
September 16, 2011
CELEBRITY DEATH MATCH : STEPHEN DEDALUS VS. HOLDEN CAULFIELD
(Note : this is not part of the current ongoing Celebrity Death Match series organised by Manny but I thought I would revive it as a companion piece)
*
BUCK MULLIGAN : Come on, kinch, you fearful jesuit. I鈥檝e got a tenner on this so I have so get in that square ring and batter this lollybogger senseless.
STEPHEN : Pro quibus tibi off茅rimus, vel qui tibi 贸fferunt hoc sacrif铆cium laudis.
BUCK MULLIGAN : Give us a rest of your gobshite and pannel the wee dodger.
STEPHEN : Not so wee, he鈥檚 six foot if he鈥檚 an inch.
BUCK shoves him in the ring. HOLDEN CAULFIELD eyes STEPHEN miserably. His psychiatrist has explained that contests of physical strength and agility will raise his spirits and shake him out of his depressive spiral. He can鈥檛 say that he gives a rat鈥檚 ass about the whole thing. In fact he鈥檇 rather be pretty much anywhere but here.
THE REF pockets a tenner secreted insouciantly to him by stately, plump BUCK MULLIGAN.
BUCK : And another where that came from.
REF : Seconds away, Round One.
STEPHEN closes his eyes and walks vaguely about the ring, ashplant dangling from limp left hand. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably. I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. WHAM !
HOLDEN has been thinking he may as well get this feeble thing over and done with as quickly as possible and he has strode up and flailed 鈥� there is really no other word - a long thin arm vaguely in STEPHEN鈥橲 direction. More by luck than judgement he connects with STEPHEN鈥檚 bullockbefriending ear which then commences issuing gouts of redblooded blood.
STEPHEN (Throws up his hands.) O, this is too monotonous! His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her womb. Oomb, allwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayawayaway.
REF issues a standing count : A one. A two. A three.
HOLDEN sits down, scratches his private parts and produces a cigarette. lights it and sneers at the crowd.
REF : A four. A five.
HOLDEN : What a bunch of phonies.
CISSEY CAFFREY : Who are you callin a phoney and what kind of accent do you call that anyway? Is he an American? O Lor, he is as well. And aren鈥檛 they all rich? So they are. Here what鈥檚 your name darlin? You look awfy young to me.
HOLDEN : Well I act quite young for my age sometimes. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head--the right side--is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am--I really do--but people never notice it. People never notice WHAMBLAM! Ooof! Shit!
STEPHEN has roused himself from his solipsistic torpor and delivered a mighty blow to HOLDEN鈥橲 temple with the ash plant.
ASHPLANT : Jaysus, I felt that!
REF : Hey, back in your corner you holy terror, this is Marquis of Queensbury rules! No ashplants! I鈥檓 going to have to disqualify you forthwith! So I am!
BUCK MULLIGAN waves another tenner in his purview.
REF : If you do it again!
STEPHEN, disgusted with his actions, throws his ashplant out of the ring. It is deftly caught by LEOPOLD BLOOM , an all round decent fellow with a really plumpacious sexy milf of a wife with tremendous bazooms. Let me tell you. In fact did I ever mention that one time me and her were DING DING!
End of round one.
STEPHEN limps over to the prone form of his lanky young opponent. He rouses him, pats him down, hauls him to his feel, and apologises. By the time HOLDEN's vision clears he finds he's been propped in his seat and a beer is in his hand, proffered by the gay crowd whose relish of the contest appears to know no bounds.
LEOPOLD BLOOM pokes his head into the proceedings.
BLOOM : You know, lads, this isn't the way. life doesn't have to be all about biff bang pow and the best man wins and all. let's go down the pub.
Exeunt BLOOM, HOLDEN AND STEPHEN in the direction of the Butcher's Arms Public House.
BUCK MULLIGAN : Dedalus wins on a TKO!
CROWD : Did he bollocks!
General melee ensues.
(Note : this is not part of the current ongoing Celebrity Death Match series organised by Manny but I thought I would revive it as a companion piece)
*
BUCK MULLIGAN : Come on, kinch, you fearful jesuit. I鈥檝e got a tenner on this so I have so get in that square ring and batter this lollybogger senseless.
STEPHEN : Pro quibus tibi off茅rimus, vel qui tibi 贸fferunt hoc sacrif铆cium laudis.
BUCK MULLIGAN : Give us a rest of your gobshite and pannel the wee dodger.
STEPHEN : Not so wee, he鈥檚 six foot if he鈥檚 an inch.
BUCK shoves him in the ring. HOLDEN CAULFIELD eyes STEPHEN miserably. His psychiatrist has explained that contests of physical strength and agility will raise his spirits and shake him out of his depressive spiral. He can鈥檛 say that he gives a rat鈥檚 ass about the whole thing. In fact he鈥檇 rather be pretty much anywhere but here.
THE REF pockets a tenner secreted insouciantly to him by stately, plump BUCK MULLIGAN.
BUCK : And another where that came from.
REF : Seconds away, Round One.
STEPHEN closes his eyes and walks vaguely about the ring, ashplant dangling from limp left hand. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably. I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. WHAM !
HOLDEN has been thinking he may as well get this feeble thing over and done with as quickly as possible and he has strode up and flailed 鈥� there is really no other word - a long thin arm vaguely in STEPHEN鈥橲 direction. More by luck than judgement he connects with STEPHEN鈥檚 bullockbefriending ear which then commences issuing gouts of redblooded blood.
STEPHEN (Throws up his hands.) O, this is too monotonous! His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her womb. Oomb, allwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayawayaway.
REF issues a standing count : A one. A two. A three.
HOLDEN sits down, scratches his private parts and produces a cigarette. lights it and sneers at the crowd.
REF : A four. A five.
HOLDEN : What a bunch of phonies.
CISSEY CAFFREY : Who are you callin a phoney and what kind of accent do you call that anyway? Is he an American? O Lor, he is as well. And aren鈥檛 they all rich? So they are. Here what鈥檚 your name darlin? You look awfy young to me.
HOLDEN : Well I act quite young for my age sometimes. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head--the right side--is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am--I really do--but people never notice it. People never notice WHAMBLAM! Ooof! Shit!
STEPHEN has roused himself from his solipsistic torpor and delivered a mighty blow to HOLDEN鈥橲 temple with the ash plant.
ASHPLANT : Jaysus, I felt that!
REF : Hey, back in your corner you holy terror, this is Marquis of Queensbury rules! No ashplants! I鈥檓 going to have to disqualify you forthwith! So I am!
BUCK MULLIGAN waves another tenner in his purview.
REF : If you do it again!
STEPHEN, disgusted with his actions, throws his ashplant out of the ring. It is deftly caught by LEOPOLD BLOOM , an all round decent fellow with a really plumpacious sexy milf of a wife with tremendous bazooms. Let me tell you. In fact did I ever mention that one time me and her were DING DING!
End of round one.
STEPHEN limps over to the prone form of his lanky young opponent. He rouses him, pats him down, hauls him to his feel, and apologises. By the time HOLDEN's vision clears he finds he's been propped in his seat and a beer is in his hand, proffered by the gay crowd whose relish of the contest appears to know no bounds.
LEOPOLD BLOOM pokes his head into the proceedings.
BLOOM : You know, lads, this isn't the way. life doesn't have to be all about biff bang pow and the best man wins and all. let's go down the pub.
Exeunt BLOOM, HOLDEN AND STEPHEN in the direction of the Butcher's Arms Public House.
BUCK MULLIGAN : Dedalus wins on a TKO!
CROWD : Did he bollocks!
General melee ensues.
February 16, 2016
And there he was following the alleys, away from his original filial shell, searching where the way would take him, and there were icons on the walls. Icons of guilt, icons of duty. Some promised a reality beyond those grey walls announcing that there would be more light 鈥� but still imagined. Some pretended a glorious past and a glorious and heroic future for the community -- an imaginary polity.
Captivating nets of restricting nationalism, coined discourses and gelled devotions.
He took the turn of one of those alleys and enjoyed the walk but it left nothing but pleasureless pleasure in his soul. They were dancing paths that entangled him more and more. He took a side turn, again after that promising light. But he was just getting into darker caves of fear, where guilt there always was: the Minotaur of sin lurking on each of those barren and sordid alleyways. The Order, the militant Order. Fleeing and escaping, not yet flying, but led by the force of hope, a dizzy hope.
He met other ghosts in those alleys but they were not more real than the icons.
Some white shone. Pearl white. A feather as small as a word. The fascination led him to other feathers that seemed to mark the way out of the trapping Labyrinth of stilted ideas. But one has to be careful with words. They can embody banality. Or emptiness. He knew the words of prayer, the words of nationalism. Words had also brought sorrow to that first martyr, Stephanos, the saint from the classical lands of ancient Greece. He was punished for his speech, his utterances. Words exchanged for stones: evil stones, words of evil and stones of god. Words of god.
But those feathers, did the sweet Guardian Angel drop them? Or was it the heroic Attican figure with Apollonian wings?
For those feathers of beauty grouped into systems of calming order. They formed an ordered and powerful structure - the syntax of thought. They led the way, clustering into meshes that winged the thoughts. Inventions could now fly. The wings of text, wings of writing, wings of beauty could help the soul glide away.
Diving upward dropping the weight of morality into eternal Stasis.
In free pursuit of liberating aesthetics, in all its splendour: with Integritas, Consonantia and Claritas 鈥� Wholeness, Harmony and Radiance.
-----
Added 5th August, 2014.
I am now rereading the Odyssey in preparation for Ulysses... and the expression "winged words" springs up in Homer's text... so suitable for Daedalus and the young Joyce.... Words are also compared to arrows in Homer's
February 7, 2017
Words, art, life...
Life, art, words...
BEAUTIFUL!
James Joyce,... what a masterful writer!!
This book is insightful, poetic, artistic and profound.
It is , if I may say so, a tour de force of wisdom and language.
I will try to make this review not ridiculously long, but as you can imagine, when a book is this good, there is no way you can write a short review and be satisfied. So let's take a look at Joyce's brilliance,
1. Language - Joyce's language is fresh and unique, his techniques and style a touch of sheer genius.
The sentences, especially descriptive ones, are so expressive and vivid, so that the images and scenes are felt so strongly and clearly, oozing out of the pages.
"The rain had drawn off; and amid the moving vapours from point to point of light the city was spinning about herself a soft cocoon of yellowish haze. Heaven was still and faintly luminous and the air sweet to breathe, as in a thicket drenched with showers; and amid peace and shimmering lights and quiet fragrance he made a covenant with his heart."
"The music passed in an instant, as the first bars of sudden music always did, over the fantastic fabrics of his mind, dissolving them painlessly and noicelessly as a sudden wave dissolves the sand-built turrets of children."
these are a few examples of the sweet poetic beauty of the writing. So colourful and soothing...!!
2. Profoundness, Wisdom and Knowledge -
"The phrase and the day and the scene harmonised in a chord. Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise gold, the russet and green of apple orchards, azure of waves, the grey fringed fleece of clouds. No, it was not their colours: it was the poise and balance of the period itself. Did he then love the rhythmic rise and fall of words better than their associations of legend and colour? Or was it that, being as weak of sight as he was shy of mind, he drew less pleasure from the reflection of the glowing sensible world through the prism of a language many coloured and richly storied than from the contemplation of an inner world of individual emotions mirrored perfectly in a lucid supple periodic prose?"
"To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life!"
"The soul is born, he said vaguely, first in those moments I told you of. It has a slow and dark birth, more mysterious than the birth of body."
"Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer. Terror is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the secret cause."
"The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic, like that of material creation, is accomplished. The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyound or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails."
"I imagine , Stephen said, that there is a malevolent reality behind those things I say I fear."
"The past is consumed in the present and the present is living only because it brings forth the future."
Makes me think of this quote, - "Word after a word after a word is power." !
- - - - - - - - - -
"These questions are very profound, Mr. Dedalus, said the dean. It is like looking down from the cliffs of Moher into the depths. Many go down into the depths and never come up. Only the trained diver can go down into those depths and explore them and come to the surface again."
This is, the birth, growth, and rebirth of a fascinating soul. An artist's soul, desperately in want of freedom to express itself wholely and freely, its journey, its waking.
Stephen Dedalus, goes down into the dark, bottomless depths of his soul's secrets, his hidden and silent conciousness in repose, his true being, and like his ancient father, the old brilliant artificer, Daedalus, he uses the mighty wings of language and imagination and reason, to emerge anew, a surging new life, an ARTIST !!
"To speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and , having understood it , to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again, from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are
the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand - that is art."
Man!!!
Life, art, words...
BEAUTIFUL!
James Joyce,... what a masterful writer!!
This book is insightful, poetic, artistic and profound.
It is , if I may say so, a tour de force of wisdom and language.
I will try to make this review not ridiculously long, but as you can imagine, when a book is this good, there is no way you can write a short review and be satisfied. So let's take a look at Joyce's brilliance,
1. Language - Joyce's language is fresh and unique, his techniques and style a touch of sheer genius.
The sentences, especially descriptive ones, are so expressive and vivid, so that the images and scenes are felt so strongly and clearly, oozing out of the pages.
"The rain had drawn off; and amid the moving vapours from point to point of light the city was spinning about herself a soft cocoon of yellowish haze. Heaven was still and faintly luminous and the air sweet to breathe, as in a thicket drenched with showers; and amid peace and shimmering lights and quiet fragrance he made a covenant with his heart."
"The music passed in an instant, as the first bars of sudden music always did, over the fantastic fabrics of his mind, dissolving them painlessly and noicelessly as a sudden wave dissolves the sand-built turrets of children."
these are a few examples of the sweet poetic beauty of the writing. So colourful and soothing...!!
2. Profoundness, Wisdom and Knowledge -
"The phrase and the day and the scene harmonised in a chord. Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise gold, the russet and green of apple orchards, azure of waves, the grey fringed fleece of clouds. No, it was not their colours: it was the poise and balance of the period itself. Did he then love the rhythmic rise and fall of words better than their associations of legend and colour? Or was it that, being as weak of sight as he was shy of mind, he drew less pleasure from the reflection of the glowing sensible world through the prism of a language many coloured and richly storied than from the contemplation of an inner world of individual emotions mirrored perfectly in a lucid supple periodic prose?"
"To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life!"
"The soul is born, he said vaguely, first in those moments I told you of. It has a slow and dark birth, more mysterious than the birth of body."
"Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human sufferer. Terror is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the secret cause."
"The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic, like that of material creation, is accomplished. The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyound or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails."
"I imagine , Stephen said, that there is a malevolent reality behind those things I say I fear."
"The past is consumed in the present and the present is living only because it brings forth the future."
Makes me think of this quote, - "Word after a word after a word is power." !
- - - - - - - - - -
"These questions are very profound, Mr. Dedalus, said the dean. It is like looking down from the cliffs of Moher into the depths. Many go down into the depths and never come up. Only the trained diver can go down into those depths and explore them and come to the surface again."
This is, the birth, growth, and rebirth of a fascinating soul. An artist's soul, desperately in want of freedom to express itself wholely and freely, its journey, its waking.
Stephen Dedalus, goes down into the dark, bottomless depths of his soul's secrets, his hidden and silent conciousness in repose, his true being, and like his ancient father, the old brilliant artificer, Daedalus, he uses the mighty wings of language and imagination and reason, to emerge anew, a surging new life, an ARTIST !!
"To speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and , having understood it , to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again, from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are
the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand - that is art."
Man!!!
January 24, 2024
鈽€锔忦焽焽� Brilliant writing. This is Joyce very readable and very lyrical and very autobiographical. If you haven鈥檛 read Joyce or if you could not deal with Ulysses this book is a good go to 鈽€锔�
October 17, 2013
Here's three reasons you might like this book -
1. You read 'clever' books, so that you seem cultured and intelligent "Oh yes I like to read James Joyce in my spare time,for fun"
2. You have problems sleeping at night and need something more powerful than sleeping pills.
3. You're the sort of person that thinks mountains are there to be climbed and books are there to be read, in which case it's one to tick off the list.
It wasn't all bad...but I won't be rushing to try Ulysses just yet.
1. You read 'clever' books, so that you seem cultured and intelligent "Oh yes I like to read James Joyce in my spare time,for fun"
2. You have problems sleeping at night and need something more powerful than sleeping pills.
3. You're the sort of person that thinks mountains are there to be climbed and books are there to be read, in which case it's one to tick off the list.
It wasn't all bad...but I won't be rushing to try Ulysses just yet.
January 29, 2008
An semi-autobiographic novel, featuring a fictionalized character as Joyce's alter-ego, it traces his formative childhood years that led him ambivalently away from a vocation in the clergy and into that of literature.
There are sections which appealed to me (a priestly sermon on the damnation of ones soul into hell is particularly vivid), but by and large the plot line was too disjointed for me to engage with. Uncertain of exactly where I had been or what path the novel was taking me, I found myself struggling through long pages in search of moments of clarity.
There were moments where Joyce's deft handling of the english language carried me away from my confusion over the plot line, but unfortunately these were not frequent enough for me to forgive the novel as a whole. There were few, if any, characters that were developed well enough to carry my interest and advance the plot.
As I neared the end of Portrait I felt cheated. One of the reasons I had selected this novel was the desire to read a classic of modern literature (it is ranked #3 on the modern language's top novels of the 20th century), and ultimately I was left questioning my ability to grasp the depths of this novel.
For a well written review espousing a contrary opinion refer to Mohsen, 17Dec07.
There are sections which appealed to me (a priestly sermon on the damnation of ones soul into hell is particularly vivid), but by and large the plot line was too disjointed for me to engage with. Uncertain of exactly where I had been or what path the novel was taking me, I found myself struggling through long pages in search of moments of clarity.
There were moments where Joyce's deft handling of the english language carried me away from my confusion over the plot line, but unfortunately these were not frequent enough for me to forgive the novel as a whole. There were few, if any, characters that were developed well enough to carry my interest and advance the plot.
As I neared the end of Portrait I felt cheated. One of the reasons I had selected this novel was the desire to read a classic of modern literature (it is ranked #3 on the modern language's top novels of the 20th century), and ultimately I was left questioning my ability to grasp the depths of this novel.
For a well written review espousing a contrary opinion refer to Mohsen, 17Dec07.
July 10, 2021
First read back in High School 鈥� 2 Stars
Reread as an adult 鈥� 4 Stars
This is a Bildungsroman 鈥� that is a word I always think sounds fun but I always forget what it means. I only realized this book is one because of my followup review of it on Wikipedia for extra facts. For those who are like me and think it is a fun word but can鈥檛 always place how to use it, it is 鈥渁 literary genre that focuses on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood . . . . in which character change is important.鈥� Basically, a coming of age story.
I didn鈥檛 remember a lot about this book from the first time I read it, but I remember that I didn鈥檛 like it. And, in rereading it I can definitely tell why I didn鈥檛 like it. While my most recent experience with this book is 4 stars, it does get a bit wordy, long winded, repetitive, and maybe even a bit boring at times. I think teenage me was probably needing something a bit more exciting to keep his attention and interest.
Two things I think helped me appreciate this book more this time around:
- More life experience to reflect on - much like the main character and author are reflecting on their coming of age
- Listening to it made the experience very enjoyable. Colin Farrell did a great job!
I have read one other Joyce (Finnegans Wake) and that one is complete nonsense. I know someone is going to see that and want to preach at me why it is not, but . . . sorry, it is incomprehensible nonsense. This one was much more pleasant and easy to follow and I really did enjoy watching the protagonist鈥檚 journey from boy to man as he struggles with school, authority, religion, sex, relationships, and 鈥淲hat is Art?鈥� It is worth the read and its classic status.
Reread as an adult 鈥� 4 Stars
This is a Bildungsroman 鈥� that is a word I always think sounds fun but I always forget what it means. I only realized this book is one because of my followup review of it on Wikipedia for extra facts. For those who are like me and think it is a fun word but can鈥檛 always place how to use it, it is 鈥渁 literary genre that focuses on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood . . . . in which character change is important.鈥� Basically, a coming of age story.
I didn鈥檛 remember a lot about this book from the first time I read it, but I remember that I didn鈥檛 like it. And, in rereading it I can definitely tell why I didn鈥檛 like it. While my most recent experience with this book is 4 stars, it does get a bit wordy, long winded, repetitive, and maybe even a bit boring at times. I think teenage me was probably needing something a bit more exciting to keep his attention and interest.
Two things I think helped me appreciate this book more this time around:
- More life experience to reflect on - much like the main character and author are reflecting on their coming of age
- Listening to it made the experience very enjoyable. Colin Farrell did a great job!
I have read one other Joyce (Finnegans Wake) and that one is complete nonsense. I know someone is going to see that and want to preach at me why it is not, but . . . sorry, it is incomprehensible nonsense. This one was much more pleasant and easy to follow and I really did enjoy watching the protagonist鈥檚 journey from boy to man as he struggles with school, authority, religion, sex, relationships, and 鈥淲hat is Art?鈥� It is worth the read and its classic status.
January 26, 2023
賳賲蹖丿丕賳賲 丕夭 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 亘丕蹖丿 亘賴 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 倬賳丕賴 亘亘乇賲. 丕夭 禺賵丿賲 亘賴 讴噩丕 亘丕蹖丿貙 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳賲貙 賳丕诏夭蹖乇賲 亘诏乇蹖夭賲 讴賴 賲噩亘賵乇 亘賴 賲賵丕噩賴賴 亘丕 丕蹖賳 賲賵噩賵丿 讴丿乇 賵 丕賴乇蹖賲賳蹖 亘乇禺丕爻鬲賴 丕夭 夭蹖乇 禺丕讴爻鬲乇 爻讴賵鬲 賳亘丕卮賲.
賲蹖禺賵丕賴賲 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲賳 賳丕賲毓賱賵賲 亘诏乇蹖夭賲 丕賲丕 賳賲蹖丿丕賳賲 趩胤賵乇 賵 亘賴 讴噩丕. 賴乇乇賵夭 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賲胤賲毓賳 賲蹖卮賵賲 讴賴 丕賳爻丕賳貙 丕蹖賳 賲賵噩賵丿 毓噩蹖亘貙 丕丨鬲賲丕賱丕 丨丕氐賱 蹖讴 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 賲丨丕爻亘丕鬲蹖 爻鬲. 賵诏乇賳賴 趩胤賵乇 賲賲讴賳 丕爻鬲 丕蹖賳賴賲賴 鬲毓丕乇囟 丕禺賱丕賯蹖貙 丕噩鬲賲丕毓蹖 貙 賮乇賴賳诏蹖貙 丌蹖蹖賳蹖貙 爻蹖丕爻蹖 賵 睾乇蹖夭蹖 乇丕 蹖讴噩丕 丿乇 禺賵丿 丨賲賱 讴乇丿 賵 丕夭 賴賲 賳倬丕卮蹖丿責
.....
讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 亘賴 卮丿鬲 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕卮鬲賲貙 賯賱賲 噩賵蹖爻 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 亘賵丿貙 賱匕鬲蹖 讴賴 亘乇丿賲 乇亘胤蹖 亘賴 爻亘讴 蹖丕 賲賵囟賵毓 賳丿丕卮鬲貙 賲賳 賵丕賯毓丕 卮蹖賮鬲賴 賳孬乇 卮丕毓乇丕賳賴 賵 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 噩賵蹖爻 卮丿賲 讴賴 賲孬賱 噩賵蹖亘丕乇 亘賵丿 賵 賲賳 乇賵 賲孬賱 蹖讴 亘乇诏 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ必�.
禺蹖賱蹖 賵賯鬲 亘賵丿 貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 丕賵賱蹖賳 亘丕乇貙 賲胤賲毓賳 賳蹖爻鬲賲貙 讴賴 讴鬲丕亘蹖 丕蹖賳胤賵乇 丿乇 賲賳 丕孬乇 讴乇丿 賵 亘丕賴丕卮 丕丨爻丕爻 賴賲匕丕鬲 倬賳丿丕乇蹖 賵 丿乇讴 丿丕卮鬲賲.
賲蹖禺賵丕賴賲 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲賳 賳丕賲毓賱賵賲 亘诏乇蹖夭賲 丕賲丕 賳賲蹖丿丕賳賲 趩胤賵乇 賵 亘賴 讴噩丕. 賴乇乇賵夭 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賲胤賲毓賳 賲蹖卮賵賲 讴賴 丕賳爻丕賳貙 丕蹖賳 賲賵噩賵丿 毓噩蹖亘貙 丕丨鬲賲丕賱丕 丨丕氐賱 蹖讴 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 賲丨丕爻亘丕鬲蹖 爻鬲. 賵诏乇賳賴 趩胤賵乇 賲賲讴賳 丕爻鬲 丕蹖賳賴賲賴 鬲毓丕乇囟 丕禺賱丕賯蹖貙 丕噩鬲賲丕毓蹖 貙 賮乇賴賳诏蹖貙 丌蹖蹖賳蹖貙 爻蹖丕爻蹖 賵 睾乇蹖夭蹖 乇丕 蹖讴噩丕 丿乇 禺賵丿 丨賲賱 讴乇丿 賵 丕夭 賴賲 賳倬丕卮蹖丿責
.....
讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 亘賴 卮丿鬲 丿賵爻鬲 丿丕卮鬲賲貙 賯賱賲 噩賵蹖爻 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 亘賵丿貙 賱匕鬲蹖 讴賴 亘乇丿賲 乇亘胤蹖 亘賴 爻亘讴 蹖丕 賲賵囟賵毓 賳丿丕卮鬲貙 賲賳 賵丕賯毓丕 卮蹖賮鬲賴 賳孬乇 卮丕毓乇丕賳賴 賵 噩丕丿賵蹖蹖 噩賵蹖爻 卮丿賲 讴賴 賲孬賱 噩賵蹖亘丕乇 亘賵丿 賵 賲賳 乇賵 賲孬賱 蹖讴 亘乇诏 亘丕 禺賵丿卮 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ必�.
禺蹖賱蹖 賵賯鬲 亘賵丿 貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 丕賵賱蹖賳 亘丕乇貙 賲胤賲毓賳 賳蹖爻鬲賲貙 讴賴 讴鬲丕亘蹖 丕蹖賳胤賵乇 丿乇 賲賳 丕孬乇 讴乇丿 賵 亘丕賴丕卮 丕丨爻丕爻 賴賲匕丕鬲 倬賳丿丕乇蹖 賵 丿乇讴 丿丕卮鬲賲.
February 16, 2015
He longed to let life stream in through the windows of his mind in all its sordid and colorful glory so that he could sift through the layers of feeling, impulse and meaning and find what his restless soul craved for - that shred of truth too primevally pristine for anyone to begrime. But the world intruded rudely upon his solemn preoccupations, planted seeds of insidious doubt wherever it could find the soft, yielding ground of inchoate perceptions. His oppressors were many and unapprehended - the cruel compulsions of academic discipline, the acts of adolescent savagery of compeers who were abysmally ill-equipped to deal with a difference of opinion, the steadily visible socioeconomic squalor of the milieu which threatened to blunt his senses and the omnipresent fear of every thought or deed of his being tantamount to execrable heresy.
But he rebelled and won victories against the accompanying inebriety of religious indoctrination and those who demanded from him an obligatory patriotic fervor for the sake of a suffering fatherland. The relentless barrage of catechisms so forcefully dismissive of humanly considerations failed to induce him to self-loathing and guilt; he found a holiness in carnal love and an enduring beauty in the quiet surrender to mortal desire instead. The labyrinth of diverse lures could no longer throttle his ambition of escaping its narrow confines. Thus, even as friends, enemies and competitors in the arena of life busied themselves with the pursuit of social relevance and prestige, young Stephen Dedalus remained unperturbed.
He now aspired to the fulfillment of a greater goal, having found his one true faith in the legitimacy of art and in its power to bestow sense on the perpetual chaos of existence.
__
P.S.:-This is a 碍眉苍蝉迟濒别谤谤辞尘补苍 whose author presupposes his own greatness and the conspiratorial insensitivity - villainy, even - of those who surround him. The author's ideas on women are also quite overtly simplistic and even somewhat patronizing. Thus I choose to save my 5 stars for the artist's heftier and more celebrated tomes.
__
Originally published on:- October 19, 2014
"He had tried to build a break-water of order and elegance against the sordid tide of life without him and to dam up, by rules of conduct and active interest and new filial relations, the powerful recurrence of the tides within him. Useless. From without as from within the waters had flowed over his barriers: their tides began once more to jostle fiercely above the crumbled mole."
But he rebelled and won victories against the accompanying inebriety of religious indoctrination and those who demanded from him an obligatory patriotic fervor for the sake of a suffering fatherland. The relentless barrage of catechisms so forcefully dismissive of humanly considerations failed to induce him to self-loathing and guilt; he found a holiness in carnal love and an enduring beauty in the quiet surrender to mortal desire instead. The labyrinth of diverse lures could no longer throttle his ambition of escaping its narrow confines. Thus, even as friends, enemies and competitors in the arena of life busied themselves with the pursuit of social relevance and prestige, young Stephen Dedalus remained unperturbed.
"This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain."
He now aspired to the fulfillment of a greater goal, having found his one true faith in the legitimacy of art and in its power to bestow sense on the perpetual chaos of existence.
__
P.S.:-This is a 碍眉苍蝉迟濒别谤谤辞尘补苍 whose author presupposes his own greatness and the conspiratorial insensitivity - villainy, even - of those who surround him. The author's ideas on women are also quite overtly simplistic and even somewhat patronizing. Thus I choose to save my 5 stars for the artist's heftier and more celebrated tomes.
__
Originally published on:- October 19, 2014
June 2, 2007
James Joyce is full of crap. I'd like to track down whoever invented stream-of-consciousness writing and kick him in the groin.
Read for: 12th grade AP English
Read for: 12th grade AP English
July 24, 2022
I have listened to A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by Irish writer James Joyce on Audible. It represents a young man living in Ireland. The schooling of young men is very close to religion.
June 10, 2017
Non Serviam
:亘賳丿诏蹖 賳禺賵丕賴賲 賳賲賵丿
诏賮鬲賲 丿蹖賳 亘蹖賲丕乇爻鬲丕賳 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 丌丿賲 鬲賵蹖卮 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘卮賵丿. 賲丕丿乇 诏匕卮鬲 讴乇丿. 賲蹖 诏賮鬲 鬲賵 匕賴賳 毓噩蹖亘蹖 丿丕乇蹖 賵 夭蹖丕丿 趩蹖夭 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕蹖. 丿乇爻鬲 賳蹖爻鬲. 讴賲 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕賲 賵 讴賲鬲乇 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 丕賲. 亘毓丿 诏賮鬲 鬲賵 亘丕賱丕禺乇賴 蹖讴 乇賵夭蹖 亘賴 丿蹖賳 亘乇賲蹖 诏乇丿蹖 趩賵賳 匕賴賳 亘蹖賯乇丕乇蹖 丿丕乇蹖. 丕蹖賳 蹖毓賳蹖 讴賱蹖爻丕 乇丕 丕夭 丿乇 毓賯亘 诏賳丕賴 鬲乇讴 讴乇丿賳 賵 丿賵亘丕乇賴 丕夭 倬賳噩乇賴 爻賯賮蹖 鬲賵亘賴 亘賴 丌賳 賵丕乇丿 卮丿賳. 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳賲 鬲賵亘賴 讴賳賲
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 鬲氐賵蹖乇蹖 丕爻鬲 丕夭 丕爻丕乇鬲 賳賵噩賵丕賳蹖 丕蹖乇賱賳丿蹖 丿乇 趩賳诏 丕賮讴丕乇 爻賳鬲蹖貨 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 賵 賲匕賴亘 賵 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖
賵 乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕卮 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 賵 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賳 亘丕 丿賳蹖丕蹖 亘夭乇诏 賴賳乇 賵 倬蹖丿丕 讴乇丿賳 賲賳 賽 賵丕賯毓蹖 禺賵丿
丕賵 丨鬲蹖 鬲丕 讴卮蹖卮 卮丿賳 倬蹖卮 賲蹖 乇賵丿 丕賲丕 賳蹖乇賵蹖蹖 丿乇賵賳蹖 亘賴 讴賲讴卮 賲蹖 丌蹖丿 賵 丕賵 乇丕 賳噩丕鬲 賲蹖 丿賴丿
睾乇蹖夭賴 丕蹖 讴賴 賳蹖乇賵賲賳丿鬲乇 丕夭 鬲毓賱蹖賲 賵 鬲乇亘蹖鬲 賵 丿蹖賳丿丕乇蹖 亘賵丿 丿乇 賴乇 賯丿賲 讴賴 亘賴 丌賳 夭賳丿诏蹖(乇賴亘丕賳蹖鬲) 賳夭丿蹖讴鬲乇 賲蹖 卮丿 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丿乇 丿乇賵賳 丕賵 亘賴 噩賳亘 賵 噩賵卮 賲蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿貙 睾乇蹖夭賴 丕蹖 鬲賳丿 賵 鬲蹖夭 賵 禺氐賲丕賳賴 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 亘乇 囟丿 鬲賲讴蹖賳 賲爻賱丨 賲蹖 爻丕禺鬲. 蹖禺 夭丿诏蹖 賵 賳馗賲 丌賳 夭賳丿诏蹖 丕賵 乇丕 賲蹖 乇賲丕賳丿...丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲鬲丨蹖乇 卮丿 讴賴 乇賵丨 丕賵 丕夭 丌賳趩賴 鬲丕 丌賳 夭賲丕賳 倬賳丕賴诏丕賴 禺賵丿 賲蹖 丿丕賳爻鬲 鬲丕 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 丿賵乇 丕爻鬲貙 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲鬲丨蹖乇 卮丿 讴賴 賵賯鬲蹖 賯乇丕乇 亘丕卮丿 蹖讴 毓賲賱 賯胤毓蹖 賵 亘乇诏卮鬲 賳丕倬匕蹖乇 丌夭丕丿蹖 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 禺胤乇 賳丕亘賵丿蹖 丕亘丿蹖貙 丿乇 賴乇丿賵 毓丕賱賲 亘丕 夭賲丕賳 賵 亘蹖 夭賲丕賳貙 丿乇 丕賳丿丕夭丿貙 丌賳 亘賳丿蹖 讴賴 爻丕賱蹖丕賳 丿乇丕夭 賳馗賲 賵 丕胤丕毓鬲 亘乇 丕賵 賳賴丕丿賴 亘賵丿 鬲丕 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 爻爻鬲 丕爻鬲. 爻乇賳賵卮鬲 丕賵 丌賳 亘賵丿 讴賴 丨讴賲鬲 禺賵丿 乇丕 噩丿丕 丕夭 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 亘蹖丕賲賵夭丿 蹖丕 丨讴賲鬲 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 乇丕 亘禺賵丿 亘丕 爻乇诏乇丿丕賳蹖 丿乇 诏蹖乇賵丿丕乇 毓丕賱賲 亘蹖丕賲賵夭丿
:乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕卮 丕夭 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖
.丿蹖賵蹖賳: 鬲賵 丌丿賲 賵丨卮鬲賳丕讴蹖 賴爻鬲蹖貙 丕爻鬲蹖賵蹖. 賴賲蹖卮賴 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖
丕爻鬲蹖賵賳: 丕蹖賳 賲賱鬲 賵 丕蹖賳 賲賲賱讴鬲 賵 丕蹖賳 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲乇丕 倬乇賵乇丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲. 賲賳 亘丕蹖丿 禺賵丿賲 乇丕 賴賲丕賳胤賵乇 讴賴 賴爻鬲賲 馗丕賴乇 讴賳賲. 丕噩丿丕丿 賲賳 夭亘丕賳 禺賵丿卮丕賳 乇丕 丿賵乇 丕賳丿丕禺鬲賳丿 賵 夭亘丕賳 丿蹖诏乇蹖 乇丕 亘乇诏夭蹖丿賳丿. 亘賴 蹖讴 賲卮鬲 禺丕乇噩蹖 丕噩丕夭賴 丿丕丿賳丿 乇賵蹖 爻乇卮丕賳 爻賵丕乇 卮賵賳丿. 鬲賵 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖 讴賳蹖 賲賳 丨丕囟乇賲 賯乇囟賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丌賳賴丕 亘丕锟斤拷丕 丌賵乇丿賴 丕賳丿 亘丕 噩丕賳 賵 鬲賳 禺賵丿 丕丿丕 讴賳賲責 亘乇丕蹖 趩賴責
.丿蹖賵蹖賳: 亘乇丕蹖 丌夭丕丿蹖 禺賵丿賲丕賳
丕爻鬲蹖賵賳: 丕夭 夭賲丕賳 "鬲賵賳" 鬲丕 夭賲丕賳 "倬丕乇賳賱" 賴蹖趩 丌丿賲 卮乇丕賮鬲賲賳丿 賵 氐丕丿賯蹖 賳亘賵丿賴 丕爻鬲 讴賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵 噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 賲丨亘鬲 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿乇 讴賮 卮賲丕 亘诏匕丕乇丿 賵 卮賲丕 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 丿卮賲賳 賳賮乇賵禺鬲賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 丿乇 賵賯鬲 丕丨鬲蹖丕噩 乇賴丕蹖卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 亘賴 丕賵 賳丕爻夭丕 賳诏賮鬲賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 賵賱卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 賵 丿賳亘丕賱 讴爻 丿蹖诏乇蹖 亘乇賵蹖丿...賵賯鬲蹖 讴賴 乇賵丨 讴爻蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 賲賲賱讴鬲 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 賲蹖 丌蹖丿 鬲賵乇賴丕 乇丕 乇賵蹖 丌賳 倬乇鬲丕亘 賲蹖 讴賳賳丿 鬲丕 噩賱賵 倬乇賵丕夭 丌賳 乇丕 亘诏蹖乇賳丿. 鬲賵 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲賱蹖鬲 賵 夭亘丕賳 賵 丿蹖賳 亘丕 賲賳 爻禺賳 賲蹖 诏賵蹖蹖. 賲賳 讴賵卮卮 賲蹖 讴賳賲 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 丕蹖賳 鬲賵乇賴丕 賮乇丕乇 讴賳賲
丕賵 丕夭 毓卮賯 賴賲 乇賴丕蹖蹖 賲蹖 蹖丕亘丿. 亘丕 丕蹖賳讴賴 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳爻鬲 丿禺鬲乇 賲賵乇丿 毓賱丕賯賴 丕卮 乇丕 亘丿爻鬲 丌賵乇丿 丕賲丕 丿乇 賳賴丕蹖鬲 丕夭 丕亘乇丕夭 毓卮賯 禺賵丿丿丕乇蹖 賲蹖 讴賳丿 賵 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮蹖 賲蹖 爻倬丕乇丿. 賵 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 賵 亘丕 禺賵丿 亘賵丿賳 乇丕 亘賴 趩賳丕賳 毓卮賯蹖 鬲乇噩蹖丨 賲蹖 丿賴丿. 趩賵賳 卮丕蹖丿 丕蹖賳 毓卮賯 丕賵 乇丕 丕夭 卮讴賵賮丕蹖蹖 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿賴丕蹖卮 亘丕夭 賲蹖 丿丕卮鬲
丌乇蹖 亘诏匕丕乇 賲乇丿诏丕賳 亘丕 賲乇丿诏丕賳 夭賳丕卮賵蹖蹖 讴賳賳丿
賲賳 丕夭 鬲賳賴丕 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 毓賯亘 乇丕賳丿賴 卮丿賳 蹖丕 乇賴丕 讴乇丿賳 丌賳趩賴 亘丕蹖丿 乇賴丕 讴賳賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲. 丕夭 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 讴乇丿賳 賴賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丕卮鬲亘丕賴蹖 讴賴 蹖讴 毓賲乇 胤賵賱 亘讴卮丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丕丿丕賲賴 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮丿
:卮蹖賮鬲賴 賴賳乇 卮丿賳
賴賳乇 毓亘丕乇鬲 丕爻鬲 丕夭 讴丕乇 丕賳爻丕賳 丿乇 賳爻賯 丿丕丿賳 亘賴 丕賲乇 賲丨爻賵爻 蹖丕 賲毓賯賵賱 亘丕 睾丕蹖鬲 夭蹖亘丕卮賳丕禺鬲蹖. 丿乇亘丕乇賴 丕蹖賳 噩賵乇 趩蹖夭賴丕 丨乇賮 夭丿賳 賵 爻毓蹖 丿乇 賮賴賲蹖丿賳 賲丕賴蹖鬲 丌賳賴丕 讴乇丿賳 賵 倬爻 丕夭 賮賴賲蹖丿賳 丌賳 丌賴爻鬲賴 賵 亘丕 賮乇賵鬲賳蹖 賵 鬲丿丕賲 讴賵卮蹖丿賳 亘乇 丕蹖賳讴賴 丕夭 丿賱 禺丕讴 鬲蹖乇賴 蹖丕 賴乇趩賴 丕夭 丌賳 爻乇 賲蹖 夭賳丿貙 丕夭 氐丿丕 賵 卮讴賱 賵 乇賳诏 讴賴 丿乇賵丕夭賴 賴丕蹖 夭賳丿丕賳 乇賵丨 賲丕 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 氐賵乇鬲蹖 丕夭 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 乇丕 讴賴 亘賴 賮賴賲 丌賳 乇爻蹖丿賴 丕蹖賲 倬丿蹖丿 丌賵乇丿賳貙 蹖毓賳蹖 丕夭 賳賵 亘蹖乇賵賳 讴卮蹖丿賳 鈥� 丕蹖賳 蹖毓賳蹖 賴賳乇
丕讴賵蹖賳丕爻 賲蹖 诏賵蹖丿: 趩蹖夭蹖 夭蹖亘丕爻鬲 讴賴 丿乇讴 丌賳 賱匕鬲亘禺卮 亘丕卮丿. 爻賴 趩蹖夭 亘乇丕蹖 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賱丕夭賲 丕爻鬲貙 鬲賲丕賲蹖鬲貙 賴賲丕賴賳诏蹖 賵 丿乇禺卮賳丿诏蹖
:爻乇賵丿 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖
丨賳噩乇賴 丕卮 丕夭 賴賵爻 丌賳讴賴 賮乇蹖丕丿 亘賱賳丿蹖 亘讴卮丿 亘賴 丿乇丿 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賮乇蹖丕丿蹖 趩賵賳 賮乇蹖丕丿 卮丕賴蹖賳 蹖丕 毓賯丕亘蹖 丕夭 賮乇丕夭 丌爻賲丕賳貙 賮乇蹖丕丿蹖 賳丕賮匕 鬲丕 丕夭 鬲爻賱蹖賲 禺賵蹖卮鬲賳 亘賴 亘丕丿賴丕 禺亘乇 丿賴丿. 丕蹖賳 賳丿丕蹖 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 亘賵丿 禺胤丕亘 亘賴 乇賵丨 丕賵 賳賴 丌賳 氐丿丕蹖 夭賲禺鬲 毓丕賱賲 鬲讴賱蹖賮 賵 賳賵賲蹖丿蹖貙 賳賴 丌賳 氐丿丕蹖 睾蹖乇丕賳爻丕賳蹖 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 禺丿賲鬲 亘蹖 賮乇賵睾 賲丨乇丕亘 賮乇丕 賲蹖 禺賵丕賳丿. 蹖讴 丿賲 倬乇賵丕夭 亘蹖 鬲丕亘丕賳賴 丕賵 乇丕 賳噩丕鬲 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 賵 賮乇蹖丕丿 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖 讴賴 賱亘賴丕蹖卮 噩賱賵 丌賳 乇丕 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿 賲睾夭卮 乇丕 賲蹖 卮讴丕賮鬲
亘丕 丨乇讴鬲蹖 毓氐亘蹖 丕夭 乇賵蹖 鬲禺鬲賴 爻賳诏 亘丕賱丕 倬乇蹖丿 趩賵賳 丿蹖诏乇 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳爻鬲 卮毓賱賴 丕蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丿乇 禺賵賳卮 亘賵丿 禺丕賲賵卮 讴賳丿. 丕丨爻丕爻 讴乇丿 讴賴 诏賵賳賴 賴丕蹖卮 诏乇 诏乇賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲 賵 丨賳噩乇賴 丕卮 丕夭 鬲乇丕賳賴 丿乇 鬲倬卮 丕爻鬲. 丿乇 倬丕賴丕蹖卮 趩賳丕賳 賴賵爻 爻蹖乇 賵 爻賮乇蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 丕夭 卮賵賯 毓夭蹖賲鬲 亘賴 丕賳鬲賴丕蹖 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 賲蹖 爻賵禺鬲. 诏賵蹖蹖 丿賱卮 賮乇蹖丕丿 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賴 亘賵丿 讴賴 亘賴 倬蹖卮! 亘賴 倬蹖卮! 卮丕賲诏丕賴 亘乇 賮乇丕夭 丿乇蹖丕 鬲蹖乇賴 鬲乇 賲蹖 卮丿貙 卮亘 亘賴 丿卮鬲賴丕 賮乇丕 賲蹖 乇爻蹖丿貙 爻倬蹖丿賴 蹖 氐亘丨 倬蹖卮 倬丕蹖 賲爻丕賮乇 乇丕 乇賵卮賳 賲蹖 讴乇丿 賵 讴卮鬲夭丕乇賴丕 賵 鬲倬賴 賴丕 賵 趩賴乇賴 賴丕蹖 亘蹖诏丕賳賴 乇丕 亘賴 丕賵 賳卮丕賳 賲蹖 丿丕丿. 讴噩丕責
賳賯卮 丌賳 丿禺鬲乇(丕蹖賳 丿禺鬲乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 丕賵 乇丕 丿乇 爻丕丨賱 賲蹖 亘蹖賳丿 賵 鬲丨鬲 鬲丕孬蹖乇卮 賯乇丕乇 賲蹖 诏蹖乇丿) 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丿乇 乇賵丨 丕賵 噩丕蹖 诏乇賮鬲 賵 賴蹖趩 讴賱丕賲蹖 爻讴賵鬲 賯丿爻蹖 爻乇賲爻鬲蹖 丕卮 乇丕 亘乇賴賲 賳夭丿賴 亘賵丿. 趩卮賲丕賳 丌賳 丿禺鬲乇 丕賵 乇丕 賳丿丕 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 賵 乇賵丨 丕賵 亘丕 丕蹖賳 賳丿丕 丕夭 噩丕 噩爻鬲賴 亘賵丿. 夭蹖爻鬲賳貙 禺胤丕 讴乇丿賳貙 爻賯賵胤 讴乇丿賳貙 倬蹖乇賵夭 卮丿賳貙 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 乇丕 丕夭 丿賱 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 丕夭 賳賵 丌賮乇蹖丿賳! 賮乇卮鬲賴 丕蹖 賵丨卮蹖 亘乇 丕賵 馗丕賴乇 卮丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賮乇卮鬲賴 蹖 噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賮丕賳蹖貙 爻賮蹖乇 丿乇亘丕乇 亘丕卮讴賵賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 鬲丕 丿乇 蹖讴 丌賳 噩匕亘賴 蹖 丿乇賵丕夭賴 賴丕蹖 賴賲賴 蹖 乇丕賴賴丕蹖 禺胤丕 賵 丕賮鬲禺丕乇 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵蹖 丕賵 亘诏卮丕蹖丿. 亘賴 倬蹖卮 賵 亘賴 倬蹖卮 賵 亘賴 倬蹖卮
:賵 乇賴丕蹖蹖
賲賳 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘賳丿诏蹖 賳禺賵丕賴賲 賳賲賵丿 讴賴 丿蹖诏乇 亘賴 丌賳 丕毓鬲賯丕丿 賳丿丕乇賲 趩賴 丕爻賲卮 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 亘丕卮丿 趩賴 賵胤賳賲 賵 趩賴 讴賱蹖爻丕蹖賲: 賵 爻毓蹖 禺賵丕賴賲 讴乇丿 亘丕 賳賵毓蹖 卮蹖賵賴 蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 蹖丕 卮蹖賵賴 蹖 賴賳乇蹖 賴乇賯丿乇 讴賴 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳賲 亘賴 丌夭丕丿蹖 賵 亘賴 鬲賲丕賲蹖 囟賲蹖乇 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘蹖丕賳 讴賳賲 賵 亘乇丕蹖 丿賮丕毓 丕夭 禺賵丿 賮賯胤 爻賱丕丨賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 亘賴 讴丕乇 亘乇賲 讴賴 禺賵丿 丿乇 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 賲噩丕夭 賲蹖 丿丕賳賲 鈥� 爻讴賵鬲貙 噩賱丕蹖 賵胤賳 賵 夭蹖乇讴蹖
!亘乇賵!亘乇賵
胤賱爻賲 亘丕夭賵丕賳 賵 氐丿丕賴丕: 亘丕夭賵丕賳 爻賮蹖丿 噩丕丿賴 賴丕貙 賳賵蹖丿卮丕賳 讴賴 鬲賳诏 丿乇 丌睾賵卮 賲蹖 诏蹖乇賳丿 賵 亘丕夭賵丕賳 爻蹖丕賴 讴卮鬲蹖賴丕蹖 亘賱賳丿 讴賴 丿乇 噩賱賵 賲丕賴 賲蹖 丕蹖爻鬲賳丿貙 丕賮爻丕賳賴 蹖 丌賳賴丕 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳 丿賵乇丿爻鬲. 亘丕夭賵丕賳 亘乇丕賮乇丕卮鬲賴 丕賳丿 鬲丕 亘诏賵蹖賳丿: 賲丕 鬲賳賴丕 賴爻鬲蹖賲. 亘蹖丕. 賵 氐丿丕賴丕 賴賲乇丕賴 丌賳賴丕 賲蹖 诏賵蹖賳丿: 賲丕 禺賵蹖卮丕賳 鬲賵 賴爻鬲蹖賲. 賵 賴賵丕 爻乇卮丕乇 丕爻鬲 丕夭 丨囟賵乇 丌賳丕賳 讴賴 賲乇丕貙 禺賵蹖卮 禺賵丿 乇丕貙 賮乇丕 賲蹖 禺賵丕賳賳丿貙 丌賲丕丿賴 蹖 乇賮鬲賳 賲蹖 卮賵賳丿貙 亘丕賱賴丕蹖 噩賵丕賳蹖 亘丕 賳卮丕胤 賵 爻賴賲诏蹖賳 禺賵丿 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 賲蹖 丿賴賳丿
诏賮鬲賲 丿蹖賳 亘蹖賲丕乇爻鬲丕賳 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 丌丿賲 鬲賵蹖卮 亘爻鬲乇蹖 亘卮賵丿. 賲丕丿乇 诏匕卮鬲 讴乇丿. 賲蹖 诏賮鬲 鬲賵 匕賴賳 毓噩蹖亘蹖 丿丕乇蹖 賵 夭蹖丕丿 趩蹖夭 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕蹖. 丿乇爻鬲 賳蹖爻鬲. 讴賲 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕賲 賵 讴賲鬲乇 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 丕賲. 亘毓丿 诏賮鬲 鬲賵 亘丕賱丕禺乇賴 蹖讴 乇賵夭蹖 亘賴 丿蹖賳 亘乇賲蹖 诏乇丿蹖 趩賵賳 匕賴賳 亘蹖賯乇丕乇蹖 丿丕乇蹖. 丕蹖賳 蹖毓賳蹖 讴賱蹖爻丕 乇丕 丕夭 丿乇 毓賯亘 诏賳丕賴 鬲乇讴 讴乇丿賳 賵 丿賵亘丕乇賴 丕夭 倬賳噩乇賴 爻賯賮蹖 鬲賵亘賴 亘賴 丌賳 賵丕乇丿 卮丿賳. 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳賲 鬲賵亘賴 讴賳賲
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 鬲氐賵蹖乇蹖 丕爻鬲 丕夭 丕爻丕乇鬲 賳賵噩賵丕賳蹖 丕蹖乇賱賳丿蹖 丿乇 趩賳诏 丕賮讴丕乇 爻賳鬲蹖貨 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 賵 賲匕賴亘 賵 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖
賵 乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕卮 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 賵 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賳 亘丕 丿賳蹖丕蹖 亘夭乇诏 賴賳乇 賵 倬蹖丿丕 讴乇丿賳 賲賳 賽 賵丕賯毓蹖 禺賵丿
丕賵 丨鬲蹖 鬲丕 讴卮蹖卮 卮丿賳 倬蹖卮 賲蹖 乇賵丿 丕賲丕 賳蹖乇賵蹖蹖 丿乇賵賳蹖 亘賴 讴賲讴卮 賲蹖 丌蹖丿 賵 丕賵 乇丕 賳噩丕鬲 賲蹖 丿賴丿
睾乇蹖夭賴 丕蹖 讴賴 賳蹖乇賵賲賳丿鬲乇 丕夭 鬲毓賱蹖賲 賵 鬲乇亘蹖鬲 賵 丿蹖賳丿丕乇蹖 亘賵丿 丿乇 賴乇 賯丿賲 讴賴 亘賴 丌賳 夭賳丿诏蹖(乇賴亘丕賳蹖鬲) 賳夭丿蹖讴鬲乇 賲蹖 卮丿 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丿乇 丿乇賵賳 丕賵 亘賴 噩賳亘 賵 噩賵卮 賲蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿貙 睾乇蹖夭賴 丕蹖 鬲賳丿 賵 鬲蹖夭 賵 禺氐賲丕賳賴 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 亘乇 囟丿 鬲賲讴蹖賳 賲爻賱丨 賲蹖 爻丕禺鬲. 蹖禺 夭丿诏蹖 賵 賳馗賲 丌賳 夭賳丿诏蹖 丕賵 乇丕 賲蹖 乇賲丕賳丿...丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲鬲丨蹖乇 卮丿 讴賴 乇賵丨 丕賵 丕夭 丌賳趩賴 鬲丕 丌賳 夭賲丕賳 倬賳丕賴诏丕賴 禺賵丿 賲蹖 丿丕賳爻鬲 鬲丕 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 丿賵乇 丕爻鬲貙 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賲鬲丨蹖乇 卮丿 讴賴 賵賯鬲蹖 賯乇丕乇 亘丕卮丿 蹖讴 毓賲賱 賯胤毓蹖 賵 亘乇诏卮鬲 賳丕倬匕蹖乇 丌夭丕丿蹖 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 禺胤乇 賳丕亘賵丿蹖 丕亘丿蹖貙 丿乇 賴乇丿賵 毓丕賱賲 亘丕 夭賲丕賳 賵 亘蹖 夭賲丕賳貙 丿乇 丕賳丿丕夭丿貙 丌賳 亘賳丿蹖 讴賴 爻丕賱蹖丕賳 丿乇丕夭 賳馗賲 賵 丕胤丕毓鬲 亘乇 丕賵 賳賴丕丿賴 亘賵丿 鬲丕 趩賴 丕賳丿丕夭賴 爻爻鬲 丕爻鬲. 爻乇賳賵卮鬲 丕賵 丌賳 亘賵丿 讴賴 丨讴賲鬲 禺賵丿 乇丕 噩丿丕 丕夭 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 亘蹖丕賲賵夭丿 蹖丕 丨讴賲鬲 丿蹖诏乇丕賳 乇丕 亘禺賵丿 亘丕 爻乇诏乇丿丕賳蹖 丿乇 诏蹖乇賵丿丕乇 毓丕賱賲 亘蹖丕賲賵夭丿
:乇賴丕蹖蹖 丕卮 丕夭 賲賱蹖 诏乇丕蹖蹖
.丿蹖賵蹖賳: 鬲賵 丌丿賲 賵丨卮鬲賳丕讴蹖 賴爻鬲蹖貙 丕爻鬲蹖賵蹖. 賴賲蹖卮賴 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖
丕爻鬲蹖賵賳: 丕蹖賳 賲賱鬲 賵 丕蹖賳 賲賲賱讴鬲 賵 丕蹖賳 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲乇丕 倬乇賵乇丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲. 賲賳 亘丕蹖丿 禺賵丿賲 乇丕 賴賲丕賳胤賵乇 讴賴 賴爻鬲賲 馗丕賴乇 讴賳賲. 丕噩丿丕丿 賲賳 夭亘丕賳 禺賵丿卮丕賳 乇丕 丿賵乇 丕賳丿丕禺鬲賳丿 賵 夭亘丕賳 丿蹖诏乇蹖 乇丕 亘乇诏夭蹖丿賳丿. 亘賴 蹖讴 賲卮鬲 禺丕乇噩蹖 丕噩丕夭賴 丿丕丿賳丿 乇賵蹖 爻乇卮丕賳 爻賵丕乇 卮賵賳丿. 鬲賵 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖 讴賳蹖 賲賳 丨丕囟乇賲 賯乇囟賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丌賳賴丕 亘丕锟斤拷丕 丌賵乇丿賴 丕賳丿 亘丕 噩丕賳 賵 鬲賳 禺賵丿 丕丿丕 讴賳賲責 亘乇丕蹖 趩賴責
.丿蹖賵蹖賳: 亘乇丕蹖 丌夭丕丿蹖 禺賵丿賲丕賳
丕爻鬲蹖賵賳: 丕夭 夭賲丕賳 "鬲賵賳" 鬲丕 夭賲丕賳 "倬丕乇賳賱" 賴蹖趩 丌丿賲 卮乇丕賮鬲賲賳丿 賵 氐丕丿賯蹖 賳亘賵丿賴 丕爻鬲 讴賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵 噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 賲丨亘鬲 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿乇 讴賮 卮賲丕 亘诏匕丕乇丿 賵 卮賲丕 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 丿卮賲賳 賳賮乇賵禺鬲賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 丿乇 賵賯鬲 丕丨鬲蹖丕噩 乇賴丕蹖卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 亘賴 丕賵 賳丕爻夭丕 賳诏賮鬲賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 蹖丕 賵賱卮 賳讴乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖丿 賵 丿賳亘丕賱 讴爻 丿蹖诏乇蹖 亘乇賵蹖丿...賵賯鬲蹖 讴賴 乇賵丨 讴爻蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 賲賲賱讴鬲 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 賲蹖 丌蹖丿 鬲賵乇賴丕 乇丕 乇賵蹖 丌賳 倬乇鬲丕亘 賲蹖 讴賳賳丿 鬲丕 噩賱賵 倬乇賵丕夭 丌賳 乇丕 亘诏蹖乇賳丿. 鬲賵 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲賱蹖鬲 賵 夭亘丕賳 賵 丿蹖賳 亘丕 賲賳 爻禺賳 賲蹖 诏賵蹖蹖. 賲賳 讴賵卮卮 賲蹖 讴賳賲 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 丕蹖賳 鬲賵乇賴丕 賮乇丕乇 讴賳賲
丕賵 丕夭 毓卮賯 賴賲 乇賴丕蹖蹖 賲蹖 蹖丕亘丿. 亘丕 丕蹖賳讴賴 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳爻鬲 丿禺鬲乇 賲賵乇丿 毓賱丕賯賴 丕卮 乇丕 亘丿爻鬲 丌賵乇丿 丕賲丕 丿乇 賳賴丕蹖鬲 丕夭 丕亘乇丕夭 毓卮賯 禺賵丿丿丕乇蹖 賲蹖 讴賳丿 賵 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 賮乇丕賲賵卮蹖 賲蹖 爻倬丕乇丿. 賵 鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 賵 亘丕 禺賵丿 亘賵丿賳 乇丕 亘賴 趩賳丕賳 毓卮賯蹖 鬲乇噩蹖丨 賲蹖 丿賴丿. 趩賵賳 卮丕蹖丿 丕蹖賳 毓卮賯 丕賵 乇丕 丕夭 卮讴賵賮丕蹖蹖 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿賴丕蹖卮 亘丕夭 賲蹖 丿丕卮鬲
丌乇蹖 亘诏匕丕乇 賲乇丿诏丕賳 亘丕 賲乇丿诏丕賳 夭賳丕卮賵蹖蹖 讴賳賳丿
賲賳 丕夭 鬲賳賴丕 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 毓賯亘 乇丕賳丿賴 卮丿賳 蹖丕 乇賴丕 讴乇丿賳 丌賳趩賴 亘丕蹖丿 乇賴丕 讴賳賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲. 丕夭 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 讴乇丿賳 賴賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丕卮鬲亘丕賴蹖 讴賴 蹖讴 毓賲乇 胤賵賱 亘讴卮丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丕丿丕賲賴 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮丿
:卮蹖賮鬲賴 賴賳乇 卮丿賳
賴賳乇 毓亘丕乇鬲 丕爻鬲 丕夭 讴丕乇 丕賳爻丕賳 丿乇 賳爻賯 丿丕丿賳 亘賴 丕賲乇 賲丨爻賵爻 蹖丕 賲毓賯賵賱 亘丕 睾丕蹖鬲 夭蹖亘丕卮賳丕禺鬲蹖. 丿乇亘丕乇賴 丕蹖賳 噩賵乇 趩蹖夭賴丕 丨乇賮 夭丿賳 賵 爻毓蹖 丿乇 賮賴賲蹖丿賳 賲丕賴蹖鬲 丌賳賴丕 讴乇丿賳 賵 倬爻 丕夭 賮賴賲蹖丿賳 丌賳 丌賴爻鬲賴 賵 亘丕 賮乇賵鬲賳蹖 賵 鬲丿丕賲 讴賵卮蹖丿賳 亘乇 丕蹖賳讴賴 丕夭 丿賱 禺丕讴 鬲蹖乇賴 蹖丕 賴乇趩賴 丕夭 丌賳 爻乇 賲蹖 夭賳丿貙 丕夭 氐丿丕 賵 卮讴賱 賵 乇賳诏 讴賴 丿乇賵丕夭賴 賴丕蹖 夭賳丿丕賳 乇賵丨 賲丕 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 氐賵乇鬲蹖 丕夭 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 乇丕 讴賴 亘賴 賮賴賲 丌賳 乇爻蹖丿賴 丕蹖賲 倬丿蹖丿 丌賵乇丿賳貙 蹖毓賳蹖 丕夭 賳賵 亘蹖乇賵賳 讴卮蹖丿賳 鈥� 丕蹖賳 蹖毓賳蹖 賴賳乇
丕讴賵蹖賳丕爻 賲蹖 诏賵蹖丿: 趩蹖夭蹖 夭蹖亘丕爻鬲 讴賴 丿乇讴 丌賳 賱匕鬲亘禺卮 亘丕卮丿. 爻賴 趩蹖夭 亘乇丕蹖 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賱丕夭賲 丕爻鬲貙 鬲賲丕賲蹖鬲貙 賴賲丕賴賳诏蹖 賵 丿乇禺卮賳丿诏蹖
:爻乇賵丿 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖
丨賳噩乇賴 丕卮 丕夭 賴賵爻 丌賳讴賴 賮乇蹖丕丿 亘賱賳丿蹖 亘讴卮丿 亘賴 丿乇丿 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賮乇蹖丕丿蹖 趩賵賳 賮乇蹖丕丿 卮丕賴蹖賳 蹖丕 毓賯丕亘蹖 丕夭 賮乇丕夭 丌爻賲丕賳貙 賮乇蹖丕丿蹖 賳丕賮匕 鬲丕 丕夭 鬲爻賱蹖賲 禺賵蹖卮鬲賳 亘賴 亘丕丿賴丕 禺亘乇 丿賴丿. 丕蹖賳 賳丿丕蹖 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 亘賵丿 禺胤丕亘 亘賴 乇賵丨 丕賵 賳賴 丌賳 氐丿丕蹖 夭賲禺鬲 毓丕賱賲 鬲讴賱蹖賮 賵 賳賵賲蹖丿蹖貙 賳賴 丌賳 氐丿丕蹖 睾蹖乇丕賳爻丕賳蹖 讴賴 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 禺丿賲鬲 亘蹖 賮乇賵睾 賲丨乇丕亘 賮乇丕 賲蹖 禺賵丕賳丿. 蹖讴 丿賲 倬乇賵丕夭 亘蹖 鬲丕亘丕賳賴 丕賵 乇丕 賳噩丕鬲 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 賵 賮乇蹖丕丿 倬蹖乇賵夭蹖 讴賴 賱亘賴丕蹖卮 噩賱賵 丌賳 乇丕 诏乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿 賲睾夭卮 乇丕 賲蹖 卮讴丕賮鬲
亘丕 丨乇讴鬲蹖 毓氐亘蹖 丕夭 乇賵蹖 鬲禺鬲賴 爻賳诏 亘丕賱丕 倬乇蹖丿 趩賵賳 丿蹖诏乇 賳賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳爻鬲 卮毓賱賴 丕蹖 乇丕 讴賴 丿乇 禺賵賳卮 亘賵丿 禺丕賲賵卮 讴賳丿. 丕丨爻丕爻 讴乇丿 讴賴 诏賵賳賴 賴丕蹖卮 诏乇 诏乇賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲 賵 丨賳噩乇賴 丕卮 丕夭 鬲乇丕賳賴 丿乇 鬲倬卮 丕爻鬲. 丿乇 倬丕賴丕蹖卮 趩賳丕賳 賴賵爻 爻蹖乇 賵 爻賮乇蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 丕夭 卮賵賯 毓夭蹖賲鬲 亘賴 丕賳鬲賴丕蹖 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 賲蹖 爻賵禺鬲. 诏賵蹖蹖 丿賱卮 賮乇蹖丕丿 亘乇丿丕卮鬲賴 亘賵丿 讴賴 亘賴 倬蹖卮! 亘賴 倬蹖卮! 卮丕賲诏丕賴 亘乇 賮乇丕夭 丿乇蹖丕 鬲蹖乇賴 鬲乇 賲蹖 卮丿貙 卮亘 亘賴 丿卮鬲賴丕 賮乇丕 賲蹖 乇爻蹖丿貙 爻倬蹖丿賴 蹖 氐亘丨 倬蹖卮 倬丕蹖 賲爻丕賮乇 乇丕 乇賵卮賳 賲蹖 讴乇丿 賵 讴卮鬲夭丕乇賴丕 賵 鬲倬賴 賴丕 賵 趩賴乇賴 賴丕蹖 亘蹖诏丕賳賴 乇丕 亘賴 丕賵 賳卮丕賳 賲蹖 丿丕丿. 讴噩丕責
賳賯卮 丌賳 丿禺鬲乇(丕蹖賳 丿禺鬲乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 丕賵 乇丕 丿乇 爻丕丨賱 賲蹖 亘蹖賳丿 賵 鬲丨鬲 鬲丕孬蹖乇卮 賯乇丕乇 賲蹖 诏蹖乇丿) 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丿乇 乇賵丨 丕賵 噩丕蹖 诏乇賮鬲 賵 賴蹖趩 讴賱丕賲蹖 爻讴賵鬲 賯丿爻蹖 爻乇賲爻鬲蹖 丕卮 乇丕 亘乇賴賲 賳夭丿賴 亘賵丿. 趩卮賲丕賳 丌賳 丿禺鬲乇 丕賵 乇丕 賳丿丕 丿丕丿賴 亘賵丿 賵 乇賵丨 丕賵 亘丕 丕蹖賳 賳丿丕 丕夭 噩丕 噩爻鬲賴 亘賵丿. 夭蹖爻鬲賳貙 禺胤丕 讴乇丿賳貙 爻賯賵胤 讴乇丿賳貙 倬蹖乇賵夭 卮丿賳貙 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 乇丕 丕夭 丿賱 夭賳丿诏丕賳蹖 丕夭 賳賵 丌賮乇蹖丿賳! 賮乇卮鬲賴 丕蹖 賵丨卮蹖 亘乇 丕賵 馗丕賴乇 卮丿賴 亘賵丿貙 賮乇卮鬲賴 蹖 噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 夭蹖亘丕蹖蹖 賮丕賳蹖貙 爻賮蹖乇 丿乇亘丕乇 亘丕卮讴賵賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 鬲丕 丿乇 蹖讴 丌賳 噩匕亘賴 蹖 丿乇賵丕夭賴 賴丕蹖 賴賲賴 蹖 乇丕賴賴丕蹖 禺胤丕 賵 丕賮鬲禺丕乇 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵蹖 丕賵 亘诏卮丕蹖丿. 亘賴 倬蹖卮 賵 亘賴 倬蹖卮 賵 亘賴 倬蹖卮
:賵 乇賴丕蹖蹖
賲賳 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘賳丿诏蹖 賳禺賵丕賴賲 賳賲賵丿 讴賴 丿蹖诏乇 亘賴 丌賳 丕毓鬲賯丕丿 賳丿丕乇賲 趩賴 丕爻賲卮 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴 亘丕卮丿 趩賴 賵胤賳賲 賵 趩賴 讴賱蹖爻丕蹖賲: 賵 爻毓蹖 禺賵丕賴賲 讴乇丿 亘丕 賳賵毓蹖 卮蹖賵賴 蹖 夭賳丿诏蹖 蹖丕 卮蹖賵賴 蹖 賴賳乇蹖 賴乇賯丿乇 讴賴 賲蹖 鬲賵丕賳賲 亘賴 丌夭丕丿蹖 賵 亘賴 鬲賲丕賲蹖 囟賲蹖乇 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘蹖丕賳 讴賳賲 賵 亘乇丕蹖 丿賮丕毓 丕夭 禺賵丿 賮賯胤 爻賱丕丨賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 亘賴 讴丕乇 亘乇賲 讴賴 禺賵丿 丿乇 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 丕夭 丌賳賴丕 賲噩丕夭 賲蹖 丿丕賳賲 鈥� 爻讴賵鬲貙 噩賱丕蹖 賵胤賳 賵 夭蹖乇讴蹖
!亘乇賵!亘乇賵
胤賱爻賲 亘丕夭賵丕賳 賵 氐丿丕賴丕: 亘丕夭賵丕賳 爻賮蹖丿 噩丕丿賴 賴丕貙 賳賵蹖丿卮丕賳 讴賴 鬲賳诏 丿乇 丌睾賵卮 賲蹖 诏蹖乇賳丿 賵 亘丕夭賵丕賳 爻蹖丕賴 讴卮鬲蹖賴丕蹖 亘賱賳丿 讴賴 丿乇 噩賱賵 賲丕賴 賲蹖 丕蹖爻鬲賳丿貙 丕賮爻丕賳賴 蹖 丌賳賴丕 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 賲乇丿賲丕賳 丿賵乇丿爻鬲. 亘丕夭賵丕賳 亘乇丕賮乇丕卮鬲賴 丕賳丿 鬲丕 亘诏賵蹖賳丿: 賲丕 鬲賳賴丕 賴爻鬲蹖賲. 亘蹖丕. 賵 氐丿丕賴丕 賴賲乇丕賴 丌賳賴丕 賲蹖 诏賵蹖賳丿: 賲丕 禺賵蹖卮丕賳 鬲賵 賴爻鬲蹖賲. 賵 賴賵丕 爻乇卮丕乇 丕爻鬲 丕夭 丨囟賵乇 丌賳丕賳 讴賴 賲乇丕貙 禺賵蹖卮 禺賵丿 乇丕貙 賮乇丕 賲蹖 禺賵丕賳賳丿貙 丌賲丕丿賴 蹖 乇賮鬲賳 賲蹖 卮賵賳丿貙 亘丕賱賴丕蹖 噩賵丕賳蹖 亘丕 賳卮丕胤 賵 爻賴賲诏蹖賳 禺賵丿 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 賲蹖 丿賴賳丿
October 17, 2024
鈥淵ou have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use鈥攕ilence, exile, and cunning.鈥�
I鈥檝e maybe read the great Portrait three or four times in my life, teaching it once or twice, and each time it鈥檚 been a terrific, albeit different experience each time, of course. I first read it at 20, when I was myself trying to decide what I might do with my life鈥攖each? Write? Go into counseling? Play music? 鈥淔ind a girl, settle down, if you want to you can marry鈥�? (Cat Stevens)--once again at 25, when I was teaching and also trying to write fiction; again at 32, as I entered an MFA program in fiction and now at 66, (quite a long gap there!), reading it with some of my undergraduate students. I recently have re-read Dubliners, which I have read many times, and love, and I have twice read Ulysses, and was impressed by the sheer achievement of it, but I am most moved still by Portrait, the semi-autobiographical bildungsroman of a young Stephen Dedalus trying to find out who he is and what he must be.
The way I see it now, Portrait is the story of a young man trying to forge a life through a labyrinth of choices among several possible passions. His father and his father鈥檚 friends are passionate about politics, bemoaning the recent loss of their leader, Parnell, but politics do not become Stephen鈥檚 strongest passion. A passionate priest nearly seduces him (no, not in that way) into the life of the priesthood, noting the young Stephen鈥檚 facility for theological study, and he鈥檚 also tempted to academic work, as he excels there, too, and loves the world of ideas. He鈥檚 passionate about the sensual life, the life of wine, women and song. A young woman is at the heart of this sensual life leading him away from the priesthood.
鈥淗is heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.鈥�
But it can鈥檛 only be the life of the flesh (or even call it love, which would happen with Joyce with Nora) as he finally chooses the right (vocational) passion for him, the life of the artist, one consistent with the Dedalus myth that gives Stephen his last name. His goal:
鈥淭o discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom,鈥�
and
鈥淭o speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and, having understood it, to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again, from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand鈥攖hat is art.鈥�
And he chooses to leave Ireland, as Joyce himself als does, but it will always be with him and in him. Joyce would never for the rest of his life write about anything else.
鈥淭his race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.鈥�
鈥淲elcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.鈥�
鈥淥ld father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.鈥�
This is one great book. In this reading I was reminded of similar struggles of other young literary figures, young men wrestling between the life of the spirit and the life of the flesh, such as Herman Hesse鈥檚 Demian and Chaim Potok鈥檚 young Hasidic artist in My Name is Asher Lev. I think of a similar but more comic version of the choice not to become a priest by Chicago writer James McManus, encapsulated in his story collection, The Education of a Poker Player. Or: Dylan Thomas' Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog. Or Joseph Heller's Portrait of the Artist as an Old Man.
I鈥檝e maybe read the great Portrait three or four times in my life, teaching it once or twice, and each time it鈥檚 been a terrific, albeit different experience each time, of course. I first read it at 20, when I was myself trying to decide what I might do with my life鈥攖each? Write? Go into counseling? Play music? 鈥淔ind a girl, settle down, if you want to you can marry鈥�? (Cat Stevens)--once again at 25, when I was teaching and also trying to write fiction; again at 32, as I entered an MFA program in fiction and now at 66, (quite a long gap there!), reading it with some of my undergraduate students. I recently have re-read Dubliners, which I have read many times, and love, and I have twice read Ulysses, and was impressed by the sheer achievement of it, but I am most moved still by Portrait, the semi-autobiographical bildungsroman of a young Stephen Dedalus trying to find out who he is and what he must be.
The way I see it now, Portrait is the story of a young man trying to forge a life through a labyrinth of choices among several possible passions. His father and his father鈥檚 friends are passionate about politics, bemoaning the recent loss of their leader, Parnell, but politics do not become Stephen鈥檚 strongest passion. A passionate priest nearly seduces him (no, not in that way) into the life of the priesthood, noting the young Stephen鈥檚 facility for theological study, and he鈥檚 also tempted to academic work, as he excels there, too, and loves the world of ideas. He鈥檚 passionate about the sensual life, the life of wine, women and song. A young woman is at the heart of this sensual life leading him away from the priesthood.
鈥淗is heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.鈥�
But it can鈥檛 only be the life of the flesh (or even call it love, which would happen with Joyce with Nora) as he finally chooses the right (vocational) passion for him, the life of the artist, one consistent with the Dedalus myth that gives Stephen his last name. His goal:
鈥淭o discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom,鈥�
and
鈥淭o speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and, having understood it, to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again, from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand鈥攖hat is art.鈥�
And he chooses to leave Ireland, as Joyce himself als does, but it will always be with him and in him. Joyce would never for the rest of his life write about anything else.
鈥淭his race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.鈥�
鈥淲elcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.鈥�
鈥淥ld father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.鈥�
This is one great book. In this reading I was reminded of similar struggles of other young literary figures, young men wrestling between the life of the spirit and the life of the flesh, such as Herman Hesse鈥檚 Demian and Chaim Potok鈥檚 young Hasidic artist in My Name is Asher Lev. I think of a similar but more comic version of the choice not to become a priest by Chicago writer James McManus, encapsulated in his story collection, The Education of a Poker Player. Or: Dylan Thomas' Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog. Or Joseph Heller's Portrait of the Artist as an Old Man.
November 13, 2021
.
賲賳 丕夭 鬲賳賴丕 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 亘禺丕胤乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 毓賯亘 乇丕賳丿賴 卮丿賳 蹖丕 乇賴丕 讴乇丿賳 丌賳趩賴 亘丕蹖丿 乇賴丕 讴賳賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲.丕夭 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 讴乇丿賳 賴賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 亘夭乇诏 亘丕卮丿貙丕卮鬲亘丕賴蹖 讴賴 蹖讴 毓賲乇 胤賵賱 亘讴卮丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丕丿丕賲賴 蹖丕亘丿.
馃尰
诏賮鬲賴 卮丿賴 讴賴 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘 蹖毓賳蹖 丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻 賴賲丕賳 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貙 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴鈥屰� 讴鬲丕亘 賴爻鬲. 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗃屬呚� 丕夭 丿賵乇丕賳 讴賵丿讴蹖 讴賴 丿乇 賲丿丕乇爻 賮賵賯鈥屫з勜关ж� 爻禺鬲诏蹖乇 亘賵丿賴 賵 賲賵乇丿 禺卮賵賳鬲 賯乇丕乇 诏乇賮鬲賴 賵 趩丕賱卮 丿丕卮鬲賴 鬲丕 丿賵乇丕賳 賳賵噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 噩賵丕賳蹖 丕賵 讴賴 丿乇诏蹖乇 趩丕賱卮鈥屬囏й� 噩丿蹖 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 賲匕賴亘 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�.
丕賵 乇丕 丿乇 爻賮乇 夭賳丿诏蹖鈥屫ж� 賮乇丿蹖 卮噩丕毓貙 賯賵蹖貙 噩爻鬲噩賵诏乇 賵 賲胤丕賱亘賴鈥屭� 丿蹖丿賲 讴賴 趩賯丿乇 夭蹖亘丕 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 亘賴 蹖讴 卮丕賴讴丕乇 賲丿乇賳 鬲亘丿蹖賱 讴乇丿賴. 賴賳乇賲賳丿蹖 诏乇趩賴 丿賵乇丕賳 讴賵丿讴蹖 賵 禺卮賵賳鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 亘丕 丌賳鈥屬囏� 賲賵丕噩賴 卮丿賴 亘賵丿 亘爻蹖丕乇 睾賲鈥屫з嗂屫� 亘賵丿 賵賱蹖 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖賳鈥屬囏� 亘丕毓孬 丕賳賯賱丕亘蹖 丿乇賵賳蹖 丿乇 賵噩賵丿 丕賵 丿乇 丿賵乇丕賳 噩賵丕賳蹖 卮丿賴 亘賵丿. 賴賳乇 乇丕 賳丕丿蹖丿賴 賳诏乇賮鬲賴 趩乇丕 讴賴 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖賳鈥屬囏ж池� 賲丕 乇丕 亘賴 丌賳趩賴 賴爻鬲蹖賲 賵 禺賵丕賴蹖賲 亘賵丿 丌诏丕賴 賲蹖鈥屫池ж藏� 賴賲蹖賳 乇賳噩鈥屬囏�...
賲賳 丕夭 鬲賳賴丕 亘賵丿賳 蹖丕 亘禺丕胤乇 丿蹖诏乇蹖 毓賯亘 乇丕賳丿賴 卮丿賳 蹖丕 乇賴丕 讴乇丿賳 丌賳趩賴 亘丕蹖丿 乇賴丕 讴賳賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲.丕夭 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 讴乇丿賳 賴賲 賳賲蹖 鬲乇爻賲 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丕卮鬲亘丕賴 亘夭乇诏 亘丕卮丿貙丕卮鬲亘丕賴蹖 讴賴 蹖讴 毓賲乇 胤賵賱 亘讴卮丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲丕 丕亘丿 丕丿丕賲賴 蹖丕亘丿.
馃尰
诏賮鬲賴 卮丿賴 讴賴 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘 蹖毓賳蹖 丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 丿丿丕賱賵爻 賴賲丕賳 噩蹖賲夭 噩賵蹖爻貙 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴鈥屰� 讴鬲丕亘 賴爻鬲. 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丕爻鬲蹖賵賳 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫堌з嗃屬呚� 丕夭 丿賵乇丕賳 讴賵丿讴蹖 讴賴 丿乇 賲丿丕乇爻 賮賵賯鈥屫з勜关ж� 爻禺鬲诏蹖乇 亘賵丿賴 賵 賲賵乇丿 禺卮賵賳鬲 賯乇丕乇 诏乇賮鬲賴 賵 趩丕賱卮 丿丕卮鬲賴 鬲丕 丿賵乇丕賳 賳賵噩賵丕賳蹖 賵 噩賵丕賳蹖 丕賵 讴賴 丿乇诏蹖乇 趩丕賱卮鈥屬囏й� 噩丿蹖 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 賲匕賴亘 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�.
丕賵 乇丕 丿乇 爻賮乇 夭賳丿诏蹖鈥屫ж� 賮乇丿蹖 卮噩丕毓貙 賯賵蹖貙 噩爻鬲噩賵诏乇 賵 賲胤丕賱亘賴鈥屭� 丿蹖丿賲 讴賴 趩賯丿乇 夭蹖亘丕 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕 亘賴 蹖讴 卮丕賴讴丕乇 賲丿乇賳 鬲亘丿蹖賱 讴乇丿賴. 賴賳乇賲賳丿蹖 诏乇趩賴 丿賵乇丕賳 讴賵丿讴蹖 賵 禺卮賵賳鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 亘丕 丌賳鈥屬囏� 賲賵丕噩賴 卮丿賴 亘賵丿 亘爻蹖丕乇 睾賲鈥屫з嗂屫� 亘賵丿 賵賱蹖 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖賳鈥屬囏� 亘丕毓孬 丕賳賯賱丕亘蹖 丿乇賵賳蹖 丿乇 賵噩賵丿 丕賵 丿乇 丿賵乇丕賳 噩賵丕賳蹖 卮丿賴 亘賵丿. 賴賳乇 乇丕 賳丕丿蹖丿賴 賳诏乇賮鬲賴 趩乇丕 讴賴 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖賳鈥屬囏ж池� 賲丕 乇丕 亘賴 丌賳趩賴 賴爻鬲蹖賲 賵 禺賵丕賴蹖賲 亘賵丿 丌诏丕賴 賲蹖鈥屫池ж藏� 賴賲蹖賳 乇賳噩鈥屬囏�...
November 26, 2015
Scratch that."Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
- Introibo ad altare Dei."
At the last minute, before witnessing Buck Mulligan mocking one of church's most important celebratory traditions and embarking on my odyssey with , I decided to take the time to get acquainted with Stephen Dedalus. I figured going to a party where I at least knew one person would be better than facing a whole crowd of strangers.
"Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo."I ended up reading Joyce's autobiographical novel in only three days, and in a way I feel sorry about it because I think I should've given it more time. On certain occasions it felt too dense and it was my own fault for not letting it sink in properly before starting each chapter. It was like watching a film in fast-forward mode.
Even so, it was fascinating accompanying the whole process and conditions in life that turned Stephen Dedalus into an artist. It is said that, at the age of twenty one, Joyce noticed he could become an artist himself by writing about how one becomes an artist. And that he did.
This coming of age story covers Stephen's formation since his early childhood and is divided in five episodes - or epiphanies - and, each one of those, distinctively, had a big impact on his personality - his consciousness and identity - and the artist he eventually became. As the title suggests (...as a young man), Stephen still has a long way to go. And the prospect of watching Stephen's continued development in Ulysses is very exciting.
What made this novel so interesting for me wasn't the fact that Stephen became an artist, it was to watch his gestation as a person. To see and to understand how the surroundings impacted him and how he responded to each and every situation that was sent his way made me try to create a parallel to my own history: I wanted to identify some of the epiphanies I went through to form the person I am today.
Joyce chose a very interesting period to depict in his novel as when we're younger, there's no denying we're more receptive to all kinds of stimuli and in the case of Stephen, his psychological response to them were heightened as he already possessed a sharp sensitivity - something that was key to his final decision of choosing art over his family, the church and his nation.
Also covered here is one of the subjects that usually spark my interest the most: one's devotion to religious life. As I am not a religious person myself, it was very enticing to understand the entire process that built Stephen's decision to follow the religious path, from his encounters with prostitutes, to how impressed he was by Father Arnall's sermons to his sore confession of guilt. I feel books appeal more to me when the characters are as different from me as possible, because I get to study and try to comprehend points of view that I would never have myself. This episode alone encompasses the whole novel's proposition: how the events that happen to you mold you as a person.
"His throat ached with a desire to cry aloud, the cry of a hawk or eagle on high, to cry piercingly of his deliverance to the winds. This was the call of life to his soul not the dull gross voice of the world of duties and despair, not the inhuman voice that had called him to the pale service of the altar. An instant of wild flight had delivered him and the cry of triumph which his lips withheld cleft his brain."However, to put the whole argument that we're products of our environment in perspective and show us that there are other factors in play here, we witness how Stephen's vocation as an artist was stronger than the events that had molded him to that point. When it seemed he would indeed go through the religious route, our young man struggled and freed himself from his early decisions to finally follow his true calling, whether he was exercising his free will or following his fate: to be an artist. And to be able to clearly show this through masterful writing is where Joyce excelled in becoming an artist himself.
Rating: Joyce continues to impress me with his writing qualities and how he develops his stories with originality and precision: 4 stars.
Now, back to Ulysses:
"Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
- Introibo ad altare Dei."
October 31, 2021
Can we just agree to disagree that there are some classics (yeah not just books but *cue gasp* classics) that simply do not click with you, and that not being able to read some or other of these classics specifically for pleasure doesn't automatically make you a philistine? And that the rating one gives here on 欧宝娱乐 refers to one's personal enjoyment of the book (at least, that's so in my case) and not to some """objective""" value that we're purportedly trying to assign to it? Yes? Great. Thank you very much.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 8,661 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.