Symbols-Dubliners Important Quotations Explained, Appunti di Letteratura Inglese

Scarica Symbols-Dubliners Important Quotations Explained e più Appunti in PDF di Letteratura Inglese solo su Docsity! Symbols-DublinersImportant Quotations Explained 1. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. —“The Dead” In the very last paragraph of “The Dead,” and hence the last paragraph of Dubliners, Gabriel gazes out of his hotel window, watching the falling snow and reflecting on his wife Gretta’s recent confession about her childhood love, Michael Furey. Previously in the story, Gabriel had been intoxicated and energized by Gretta’s preoccupied mood, which reminded him of their courtship, but her outburst of sobbing undermines his self-assurance. This quiet moment of contemplation portrays Gabriel’s muted, hushed acceptance that he was not Gretta’s first love, and that in fact he has never felt love at all. The blanket of snow suggests this sense of numbness in Gabriel’s character—he is literally frigid to emotion—but also the commonality of this trait. The snow does not fall only outside of Gabriel’s window, but, as he envisions it, across the country, from the Harbor of Dublin in the east, to the south in Shannon, and to the west. In other words, everyone, everywhere, is as numb as he is. In this image, Gabriel also contemplates his mortality, and how his living experience intersects with death and the dead. Snow falls everywhere in Ireland, including on the grave of Michael Furey, who has so recently entered his life. In his speech at his aunts’ party, Gabriel had called for the need to live one’s life without brooding over the memories of the dead, but here he realizes the futility of such divisions and the lack of feeling they expose in his character. Gretta cannot forget the pain of the dead in her life, and her acute suffering illustrates for Gabriel that the dead are very much a part of the lives around him, including his own. That Gabriel’s reflections occur in the nighttime adds to the significance of this quote. As he now broods over the dead, he hovers in that flickering state that separates the vibrancy of one daytime from the next. The darkness above the ground mirrors the darkness beneath the ground, where coffins of the dead rest. 2. He looked down the slope and, at the base, in the shadow of the wall of the Park, he saw some human figures lying. Those venal and furtive loves filled him with despair. He gnawed the rectitude of his life; he felt that he had been outcast from life’s feast. —“A Painful Case” This quote from “A Painful Case” shows Mr. Duffy walking past the park near his home after he has learned of Mrs. Sinico’s death. He sees two lovers in the park. They are not specific people, but rather human figures that render the scene universal, and the sight reminds Mr. Duffy of his self-imposed exclusion from companionship. In the story, Mr. Duffy rebukes the intimate gestures of Mrs. Sinico, only to realize here, after her death, how potentially life-changing they could have been. At the same time, the language of this quote articulates Mr. Duffy’s relentless spite for such physical expression—it is fleshly and secretive, something that happens in the shadows. This moment enacts a cycle of life and death that echoes throughout Dubliners: seeing the living, physical evidence of love in two people leads Mr. Duffy to think of the dead, of Mrs. Sinico, and then to reflect on his own existence. Mr. Duffy’s circular thoughts recall the obsessive routines and daily procedures that comprise his life and that make no space for the intimate sharing of love. The imagery of eating in this quote suggests the importance of reciprocity and union that is so absent in this story. The physical act of eating is an activity that Mr. Duffy attempts to externalize and control. Yet Mr. Duffy must gnaw on his rectitude because he has nothing else and because his rectitude is the root of his exclusion. In living in such a restrained way, including his clockwork, solitary meals at the same establishments, he cannot tolerate the change that love harbors or the emotional output, often so uncontrollable, that it demands. As a result, Mr. Duffy must watch others feast and share in the consumption of the many things the world has to offer, while he remains alone. 3. I watched my master’s face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child’s play, ugly monotonous child’s play. —“Araby” In this quote, the young boy of “Araby” has just spoken with Mangan’s sister, and now finds himself entirely uninterested and bored by the demands of the classroom. Instead, he thinks of Mangan’s sister, of the upcoming bazaar, and of anything but what rests before him. This scene forecasts the boy’s future frustration with the tedious details that foil his desires, and it also illustrates the boy’s struggle to define himself as an adult, even in the space of the classroom structured as a hierarchy between master and student. Just as mundane lessons obstruct the boy’s thoughts, by the end of the story everyday delays undermine his hopes to purchase something for Mangan’s sister at the bazaar. In both cases, monotony prevents the boy from fulfilling his desires. This scene articulates the boy’s navigation between childhood and adulthood. He sees the routine boredom of school as child’s play—it is easy, unengaging, and repetitive. Desire, on the other hand, is inspirational and liberating. His thoughts, after all, wander everywhere, rather than remain fixed to the place they should be. Yearning for the freedom of adulthood, the boy remains chained to the predictability of childhood. The irony underpinning the word idle reflects the hypocrisy of this situation, and as such forms one of the moments in the narrative when the subject’s voice speaks through the detached third person. What exactly, the passage asks, is idle about excited desire? Idle activity, rather, defines the activity in school, and thus childhood. 4. He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He had bought them in his bachelor days and many an evening, as he sat in the little room of the hall, he had been tempted to take one down from the bookshelf and read out something to his wife. But shyness always held him back; and so the books had remained on their shelves. —“A Little Cloud” In this quote from the beginning of “A Little Cloud,” Little Chandler sits in his office, waiting for the workday to conclude so he can meet with Gallaher, his old friend. As he thinks about Gallaher’s successes as a London newspaper writer, Little Chandler begins to reflect on his own career as a writer. Though he works as a clerk, a job in which writing plays a large part, Little Chandler aspires to be a poet—a writer whose material is human emotion, not drudgery. In this passage, however, Little Chandler dejectedly accepts that such aspirations will never materialize. He has the books, but none of the passionate drive to produce one of his own. The books in the quote, in turn, serve as emblems of Little Chandler’s poetic desires. They are present and within reach, but his temerity and hesitation prevent him from pulling them from the shelf. His inability to read to his wife also hints at the contradictory role of marriage in his life: it acts as an inhibitor rather than an encouragement to fulfilling his desires. The final moments of the story confirm this antagonism. Little Chandler musters the courage to read some poetry to himself, but his wife’s entry crushes his reverie and makes him feel remorseful for his actions. Inertia 1 She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition. In “Eveline,” the main character Eveline debates whether to leave Ireland and go to Argentina with a sailor who has been courting her. Eveline does not love the sailor, but she sees him as a means to escape. Although her life in Dublin consists of relentless hard work and abuse by her father, she promised her mother to keep the family together. The uncertainty of the venture also undermines her confidence. In the end, Eveline makes her decision—by not making a decision. Immobilized by her family’s expectations like a caged animal, her resignation to the status quo shows in her death mask face emptied of feelings. 2 He watched the scene and thought of life; and (as always happened when he thought of life) he became sad.... He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being the burden of wisdom which the ages had bequeathed to him. At the beginning of “A Little Cloud,” the narrator relates how Little Chandler thinks of his life. He has a habit of morose brooding about his circumstances that inevitably ends with acceptance of the status quo. On this particular day, a visit from a childhood friend arouses his melancholy as he compares their lives. He envies Gallaher’s success as a London reporter and believes that he might be at least as successful. However, the reader can see that his habit of passivity has become a self-fulfilling prophecy: He has no idea how to struggle against fate. 3 He could not have carried on a comedy of deception with her; he could not have lived with her openly. He had done what seemed to him best. How was he to blame? At the end of “A Painful Case,” Mr. Duffy searches his soul for culpability in a woman’s death. Four years prior he had become friends with a married woman. Although he found their relationship intellectually satisfying, Mr. Duffy felt surprise when she expressed physical interest in him, and he broke off the relationship. When he reads of her death in an accident related to a drinking problem she developed after the breakup, he begins to regret his decision. Mr. Duffy recognizes that, by deciding that an extramarital relationship was not an option, he doomed both of them to be lonely forever. Ambition 1 Jimmy had a respect for his father’s shrewdness in business matters and in this case it had been his father who first suggested the investment; money to be made in the motor business, pots of money. Jimmy Doyle, the protagonist of “After the Race,” has inherited a modest wealth thanks to his father’s hard work as a butcher. Now Jimmy plans to achieve financial success of his own. He meets an extremely rich Frenchman, Ségouin, who plans to start an automobile business. The narrator here reveals that, in part due to his father’s past advice, Jimmy will invest in Ségouin’s company. Unfortunately, Jimmy has not inherited his father’s shrewdness, and his ambition to both be rich and seem rich leads him to behave recklessly while spending a celebratory night on the town with his friends. By the end of the night, Jimmy’s planned investment in the car business turns into I.O.U.s for gambling debts. 2 There was no doubt about it. If you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin…. He wondered whether he could write a poem to express his idea. Perhaps Gallaher might be able to get it into some London paper for him. In “A Little Cloud,” the protagonist, Little Chandler, compares his own life with that of his friend Gallaher’s as he goes to meet Gallaher for the first time in many years. When they were friends in Dublin, Gallaher associated with a wild set of friends and often found himself in trouble. Since going to London, Gallaher had become a successful journalist. Little Chandler, believing himself ultimately superior to his friend, feels sure he could be at least as successful as Gallaher. Here, Little Chandler’s long-buried literary ambitions resurface: Instead of being a “tawdry” journalist, he aspires to be a poet. The problem, he believes, lies in his location, placing the blame anywhere but on his own lack of initiative. 3 She sat amid the chilly circle of her accomplishments, waiting for some suitor to brave it and offer her a brilliant life. But the young men whom she met were ordinary and she gave them no encouragement. In “A Mother,” the narrator describes Miss Devlin as occupying the center of her own narcissistic existence. She expects her talents and refined manner to lead to a brilliant marriage. Preoccupied with her own goals, she gives only superficial attention to the available suitors, who are found unequal to her high standards. After passing up these men and with the threat of being an old maid at hand, she ends up marrying Mr. Kearney, a bootmaker. Her marriage doesn’t match her ambition, but she makes the best of things by transferring her ambition to her daughter’s life. As readers later see, her high expectations will again doom her to failure. Insularity 1 At the crest of the hill at Inchicore sightseers had gathered in clumps to watch the cars careering homeward and through this channel of poverty and inaction the Continent sped its wealth and industry. Now and again the clumps of people raised the cheer of the gratefully oppressed. “After the Race” begins during an international automobile race running through Dublin. Although this event takes place on Irish soil, the racers come from elsewhere in Europe, and the Irish root for the French because they will not root for the British. The narrator contrasts the speeding luxury race cars with the backwards, impoverished streets. Readers can infer that the wealthy automobile racers treat Ireland like a colonial backwater they can use for their own purposes—and that the Irish populace feels happy to have them do so. 2 Ignatius Gallaher laughed. “The Isle of Man!” he said. “Go to London or Paris: Paris, for choice. That’d do you good.” In “A Little Cloud,” a staid, timid clerk named Little Chandler meets up with an old friend, Gallaher, who moved away from Dublin and became a successful London journalist. Gallaher here reacts with scorn to Little Chandler’s experience of travel being limited to an island off the coast of Ireland that is the closest foreign soil to Dublin. Gallaher seems unimpressed with what Little Chandler has done with his life and challenges him to broaden his horizon. 3 She asked him why he did not write out his thoughts. For what, he asked her, with careful scorn . . . To submit himself to the criticisms of an obtuse middle class which entrusted its morality to policemen and its fine arts to impressarios? In “A Painful Case,” the narrator describes one of the many platonic meetings between an intellectual bachelor and a married matron. Mr. Duffy had held forth on his political theories, and Mrs. Sinico has complimented him by urging him to publish. Mr. Duffy’s response reveals that he views most of his fellow Irishmen as ignorant. Their idea of entertainment doesn’t include classical music, which he and Mrs. Sinico both love, but rather music-hall performances. He disdains his fellow Irishmen’s preoccupation with pragmatic mundanities rather than world-changing ideas—he supports a Socialist revolution. He explains he doesn’t write because he believes people could never understand his refined ideas. Then again, he does nothing else either, avoiding relationships of all kinds. His refined existence contains very little actual life. 4 “Oh, well . . . I presume there are as good singers today as there were then . . . In London, Paris, Milan,” Said Mr. Bartell D’Arcy warmly. “I suppose Caruso, for example, is quite as good, if not better than any of the men you have mentioned.” In “The Dead,” party guests reminisce about the great singers of the past. Mr. Browne asserts that current singers lack the old singers’ talent, a reason why the great operas no longer run. Mr. Bartell D’Arcy, himself a singer, points out that singers have not actually become less talented and offers as a case in point Caruso, one of the most famous opera singers to this day. Instead, he says, the great singers simply perform elsewhere. Dublin no longer functions as a site for such performances, either due to a lack of interest, or because performers would rather be in larger cities “Araby” Narrator Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlor watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her except for a few casual words[.] The “Araby” narrator has a crush on his friend’s sister, who also happens to be his neighbor. However, despite being intensely aware of her, they barely interact, even when the opportunity presents itself, as in the scene described here. The narrator experiences intense feelings for the girl without any basis in real knowledge about her. He does not even share with the reader his assumptions about her personality, if he has any. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her how I would tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running down the wires. The “Araby” narrator’s crush on the girl next door produces intense feelings that manifest in physical form. Part of the tension comes from the lack of actual communication between him and girl. The narrator cannot imagine where the crush may lead, because so far the relationship takes place in his head only. As long as he keeps his feelings secret, the illusion of a love affair can safely continue. If he exposes his feelings, she might reject him. Little Chandler, from “A Little Cloud” He was called Little Chandler because, though he was but slightly under the average stature, he gave one the idea of being a little man. His hands were white and small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manner was refined. He took the greatest care of his fair silken hair and moustache and used perfume discreetly on his handkerchief. The narrator from “A Little Cloud” describes how Little Chandler got his name. His build and his features bespeak a physical fragility that extends to his personality. His careful grooming of his hair and mustache indicate a precarious sense of self-worth. His reserved manner of speaking and unobtrusive use of cologne characterize a person intent on escaping notice and indicate a guarded insecurity. As he meets with a long- absent friend, however, his fragile self-confidence will begin to be questioned and tested. It was his habit to walk swiftly in the street even by day and whenever he found himself in the city late at night he hurried on his way apprehensively and excitedly. Sometimes, however, he courted the causes of his fear. He chose the darkest and narrowest streets and, as he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread about his footsteps troubled him[.] The narrator reveals that while Little Chandler often feels timid, he challenges his own timidity. Recognizing his own fears, he puts his bravery to the test. He seems to have flashes of wanting to be a different, more exciting or braver person, but he performs these exercises of bravery without expecting them to lead to any change in his true nature. Melancholy was the dominant note of his temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by recurrences of faith and resignation and simple joy. If he could give expression to it in a book of poems perhaps men would listen. He would never be popular: he saw that. He could not sway the crowd but he might appeal to a little circle of kindred minds. Little Chandler reflects on his temperament. While he doesn’t view himself as heroic or great, he does believe that he possesses a special poetic ability. He believes that some people might appreciate what he could make of that talent. He has given both his personality and his talent level a lot of careful thought— but so far he has not done anything to bring his gift to the real world. He felt acutely the contrast between his own life and his friend’s, and it seemed to him unjust. Gallaher was his inferior in birth and education. He was sure that he could do something higher than mere tawdry journalism if only he got the chance. What was it that stood in his way? His unfortunate timidity! He wished to vindicate himself in some way, to assert his manhood. After meeting with Gallaher, his old friend who became a successful London journalist, Little Chandler feels jealousy while simultaneously feeling superior. Until this evening, Little Chandler felt fairly satisfied with his life, but Gallaher’s charismatic presence and belittling comments tilt Little Chandler into dissatisfaction and misery. Little Chandler’s combination of self-confidence and timidity prove to be no match for Gallaher’s brash self-assertion and worldliness. A dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to live bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was the furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him. After Gallaher asserts the foolishness of marrying for any reason besides money, Little Chandler, now viewing his life through the lens of Gallaher’s opinion, begins to resent the family he had been proud of. While he longs to be more like Gallaher, the fact that he worries about paying off the furniture before running away indicates that fundamentally he still cares about societal expectations and will never escape. Farrington, from “Counterparts” When he stood up he was tall and of great bulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine-colored, with fair eyebrows and moustache: his eyes bulged forward slightly and the whites of them were dirty. The “Counterparts” narrator describes Farrington as a large, unhealthy, and unattractive person. His red skin in an otherwise Caucasian face and his jaundiced eyes indicate alcoholism. Farrington works as a law clerk, a job for which his huge size seems unnecessary. On first impression, he seems to be both physically and mentally unsuited for the position. A spasm of rage gripped his throat for a few minutes and then passed, leaving after it a sharp sensation of thirst. The man recognized the sensation and felt he must have a good night’s drinking. The middle of the month was passed and, if he could get the copy done in time, Mr. Alleyne might give him an order on the cashier. The narrator explains that, after being criticized at work, Farrington becomes infuriated, which in turn leaves him craving a drink. He anticipates being able to wash away his anger with alcohol that evening. However, to do so he will need an advance on his pay. He has already spent all of last month’s pay. Readers can easily infer he spent that money irresponsibly on drinks. He felt strong enough to clear out the whole office single-handed. His body ached to do something, to rush out and revel in violence. All the indignities of his life enraged him . . . The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot. The narrator provides insight into Farrington’s mind after he’s criticized by his superiors. The imagery of weather suggest a force of nature exploding without reason on the world in general. To deal with his anger, his instinct tells him to direct his rage and blame outwards. At no point does he consider that the criticism he receives results from his own lack of production, compromised by having visited the pub already five times during the course of the day. “So, I just looked at him—coolly, you know, and looked at her. Then I looked back at him again—taking my time, you know. ‘I don’t think that’s a fair question to put to me,’ says I.” Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davey Byrne’s and, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one, saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood a drink in his turn. To impress a woman at a pub, Farrington recalls a smart-aleck remark he made to his boss. In reality, he had to apologize abjectly for his words in order to keep his job. But out at the pub he aims to impress and amuse his fellow drinkers with the story. Here, all feels right in Farrington’s world and his work troubles can be forgotten—until tomorrow. He watched her leave the room in the hope that she would look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed his want of money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly all the whiskies and Apollinaris which he had stood to Weathers. If there was one thing he hated it was a sponge. He was so angry that he lost count of the conversation of his friends. While out drinking, Farrington spots an attractive woman and hopes she notices him too. But because he has already spent most of his money, he can’t offer her a drink, and the opportunity to spend time with her vanishes—assuming such a moment ever existed. As usual, Farrington blames the missed opportunity on others and spends time wallowing in his own anger. However, the large number of drinks consumed may explain why he lost the thread of his friends’ conversation. When Paddy Leonard said ”Go!”each was to try to bring down the other’s hand on to the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined. The trial began. After about thirty seconds Weathers brought his opponent’s hand slowly down on to the table. Farrington’s dark wine-colored face flushed darker still with anger and humiliation at having been defeated by such a stripling. The narrator describes the arm-wrestling match between Farrington and Weathers, an acrobat. Despite his large size, Farrington loses to Weathers and feels both shock and embarrassment from the loss. This failure marks the second disappointment in Farrington’s night of pub crawling. The evening that Farrington dreamt about at work doesn’t turn out to be as fun as he anticipated. The man jumped up furiously and pointed to the fire. “On that fire! You let the fire out! By God, I’ll teach you to do that again!” He took a step to the door and seized the walking-stick which was standing behind it. “I’ll teach you to let the fire out!” he said, rolling up his sleeve in order to give his arm free play. Upon returning home from a disappointing night of drinking, Farrington, consumed with self-pity, takes his anger out on an innocent person—his son. Here, he rages at his son for allowing the fire to go out. His words and actions imply that violence will accompany his words. Farrington once again fails to realize his role in his life’s misery and instead chooses to take out his anger on anyone but himself. The fact that he feels justified in beating a child points up his reprobate character. Gabriel Conroy, from “The Dead” He then took from his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced at the headings he had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from Robert Browning, for he feared they would be above the heads of his hearers. Some quotation that they would recognize from Shakespeare or from the Melodies would be better. Gabriel Conroy must, as always, make a speech at his aunts’ annual dance. Well-educated and employed as a teacher, as well as their closest male relative, Gabriel seems the natural choice for the task. Here, the narrator explains how Gabriel feels concerned that his speech will make him appear ridiculous by seeming to show off his superior education. Gabriel worries about the opinions of others and even potential or unsaid criticism. She broke into a peal of laughter and glanced at her husband, whose admiring and happy eyes had been wandering from her dress to her face and hair. The two aunts laughed heartily too, for Gabriel’s solicitude was a standing joke with them. “Galoshes!” said Mrs. Conroy. “That’s the latest. Whenever it’s wet underfoot I must put on my galoshes. To-night even, he wanted me to put them on, but I wouldn’t. The next thing he’ll buy me will be a diving suit.” Gabriel’s wife pokes fun of him to his aunts, but he doesn’t mind. She talks about the things he does to protect her, which everyone in the conversation recognizes as tokens of love. Meanwhile, Gabriel takes the opportunity to admire his wife. Her physical appearance combined with her good humor make her particularly attractive, and he feels proud to have such a beautiful wife. It was strange that his mother had had no musical talent though Aunt Kate used to call her the brains carrier of the Morkan family. Both she and Julia had always seemed a little proud of their serious and matronly sister . . . Thanks to her, Constantine was now senior curate in Balbriggan and, thanks to her, Gabriel himself had taken his degree in the Royal University. While looking at a picture of his late mother, Gabriel reflects on his family’s genetic traits. While the family largely has musical abilities, his mother had none. Instead, the family credits her with passing on intelligence, which comforts Gabriel. With his literary bent, he usually feels at odds with the rest of the family, and his gratitude for his better education expresses his assurance of his worth. A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel’s face. It was true that he wrote a literary column every Wednesday in The Daily Express, for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him a West Briton surely. The books he received for review were almost more welcome than the paltry cheque. He