Portrait

Title: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Author: James Joyce
Publisher: Bantam Books
Year Published: 1916
Rating: A

James Joyce is often heralded as the inventor of the modern novel. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, he follows the life of Stephen Dedalus, our anti-hero. From Dedalus’ childhood to manhood, the reader is privy to the philosophies and quirks of this young Irishman. Joyce incorporates contemporary issues with universal personal struggles, exploring the politics of Ireland in the early 20th century while also tackling a young man’s views of religion. Humor and dialogue give these themes strength.

One universal theme Joyce displays early in the novel is this: Never discuss politics and religion. Dedalus is sitting as a young boy at the family’s dinner table on Christmas, when an argument ensues. This is his first time invited to the adults’ table. They are discussing the role of church in Ireland, and the debate gets quite heated. The scene becomes comical, while tempers flare.

No God for Ireland! [Mr. Casey] cried. We have had too much God in Ireland. Away with God!

Blasphemer! Devil! Screamed Dante, starting to her feet and almost spitting in his face.

Joyce captures the gestures and frustrations of two sides fighting against each other. The scene is brilliant not only for comic reasons, but also for addressing the important issues of his time, while also laying the groundwork for Dedalus as a man.

Dedalus is an intellectual even as a young boy. His mind is constantly working, and the reader is inside his head throughout this novel. Joyce not only uses structure and organizes his content as it never had been seen before. But he also uses a writing tool which will become popular again and again, specifically with the Beats in the 1950s: stream of consciousness. Dedalus’ thoughts are more often displayed as if they are running right out of his head onto the paper. They include his perceptions of the other boys, the priests, his family. Later in the novel, his thoughts focus on his own sins and repentance. Towards the end of the novel, this stream of consciousness is transformed with Dedalus’ maturity and becomes his own words in the form of philosophical discussions with his companions.

Portrait is about Dedalus’ personal journey from child to man. Using the form he’s developed, Joyce structures this journey in a way that the reader can pick up on the moments of transformation. One such moment occurs when he is at college and he realizes that he is more accepted by his peers than he had been in the past. But now he doesn’t really care as much because he cannot relate to the things they discuss. Joyce writes: “Lately some of their judgments had sounded a little childish in his ears and had made him feel a regret and pity as though he were slowly passing out of an accustomed world and were hearing its language for the last time.” Dedalus has gained confidence and found a place among the boys who used to pick on him, as boys do. But in his own mind, he has surpassed them intellectually.

Another transformation occurs when Dedalus is chastised by his Catholic upbringing. His thoughts are full of guilt and remorse for his sexual indiscretions. Ultimately, he confesses his sins and attempts to live a life of piousness. But seeds of doubt begin to take ground after this episode. For instance, Dedalus is put off by the fact that his confessors often ask him to repeat past sins he had supposedly been absolved of.

Often when he had confessed his doubts and scruples, some momentary inattention at prayer, a movement of trivial anger in his soul or a subtle willfulness in speech or act, he was bidden by his confessor to name some sin of his past life before absolution was given him… It humiliated and shamed him to think that he would never be freed from [his past sins] wholly, however holily he might live or whatever virtues or perfections he might attain. A restless feeling of guilt would always be present with him…

Although Dedalus toys with the idea of entering the priesthood, it is these issues that we assume eventually lead him away from this life course.

Joyce uses humor and dialogue, as is above mentioned, along with developing a new structure for literature. But all of this is held together by Joyce’s beautiful prose. In one instance, Dedalus has just been told a crude joke by one of his schoolmates. Joyce writes, “His fellow student’s rude humour ran like a gust through the cloister of Stephen’s mind, shaking into gay life limp priestly vestments that hung upon the walls, setting them to sway and caper in a sabbath of misrule.” Incorporating the religious symbols so prevalent in Joyce’s and Dedalus’ early life, the writer paints a brilliant picture of the young man’s mind.

The final stage of Dedalus’ development occurs when he accepts his role as an artist and renounces religion. These stages are also beautifully displayed by Joyce through a conversation at the end of the novel between Dedalus and his companion Cranly. Dedalus is sharing his philosophies with his friend. The growth of Dedalus is highlighted by his confidence in discussing his own philosophy and his announcement that he is leaving Dublin. Cranly recalls something that Dedalus has mentioned before what Dedalus wants to do in life: “To discover the mode of life or of art whereby your spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.” At once this is a denunciation of the religion he was raised and a testament to his search for freedom in art. It is also something that every artist seeks: the freedom to find your spirit, thus, your art.

“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 (sic) the only arms I allow myself to use, silence, exile and cunning.” It is Joyce’s own voice we hear in Dedalus’ statement. This is the road the artist has chosen. This is the path Joyce traces throughout the novel, ending here at the young man’s own liberation.

Many Shoes

Title: Sightseeing
Author: Rattawut Lapcharoensap
Publisher: Grove Press
Publication Year: 2005
Rating: A

Twenty-five-year-old Rattawut Lapcharoensap has written a great collection of stories, each from a different perspective. He puts himself in the shoes of young Thai men and women, and even an old, grumpy American man. The focus of most of the stories is family, the relationships between parents, children and siblings. Many of the stories also focus on Thai-American relations and each culture's interpretation of the other. He touches on the complexity of the human spirit and family relations, which can be difficult no matter where in the world you’re from.

Medical Doctor or Revolutionary?

Title: The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey
Author: Ernesto “Che” Guevara
Publisher: Ocean Press
Date Published: 2003
Rating: A-

The Motorcycle Diaries gives a fresh view of the famous revolutionary Che Guevara by relating the Latin American adventure of Guevara and his friend Alberto Granado on the motorcycle aptly named "Comeback." As someone who knew little about Guevara and his revolution – and who still has much to learn – this was an excellent way to begin learning about Latin American history and Guevara’s role. It has sparked in me a desire to learn more about this revolutionary leader. But this travel diary is more than just an historical account. It is also a beautifully written story easy to relate to. The longing for adventure and the drive to gain more from life is something many of us feel.

The diaries are a composition of notes Guevara wrote along his trek through Latin America. After the conclusion of his trip, he went back and put all his notes together, adding and subtracting as he saw fit. There are so many passages that left me wondering if they were composed in the passion of the moment or after careful deliberation while pouring over the notes. One such passage was included during Guevara and Granado’s stop in Miramar to visit Guevara’s love. He describes his struggle to leave the place, feeling tied to his girl. Granado starts to think he’ll be traveling alone. But Guevara eventually pulls himself away and calls it a victory. But then he writes: “Yet afterwards I doubted whether driftwood has the right to say, ‘I win,’ when the tide throws it on to the beach it seeks.”

The pride Guevara and his companion feel for Argentina and its neighboring countries is prevalent throughout the diary entries. It truly feels like Guevara is becoming the man he will eventually be. His insight and understanding that he was still learning about the world is honest and sincere. The following was included in the chapter “San Martin de los Andes”:

I now know, by an almost fatalistic conformity with the facts, that my destiny is to travel, or perhaps it’s better to say that traveling is our destiny, because Alberto feels the same. Still, there are moments when I think with profound longing of those wonderful areas in our south. Perhaps one day, tired of circling the world, I’ll return to Argentina and settle in the Andean lakes, if not indefinitely then at least for a pause while I shift from one understanding of the world to another.

I admire Guevara’s ability to recognize this experience will have an impact on his life, and also his understanding that world views continue to change with experience.

Guevara carefully details the people the two young men encounter along their journey. He is affected by the oppression and the poverty he sees. Time and again he relates how difficult it is for people to understanding the point of their journey. The two men beg for food, shelter and transportation. But they created their own circumstances. Others they come across are also begging, but because of circumstances out of their control.

Guevara and Granado encounter a migrant couple who’ve been outcast because they are communists. The couple describes their hardships and their plan to attempt to find work at the sulfur mines. Guevara writes:

It’s a great pity that they repress people like this. Apart from whether collectivism, the “communist vermin,” is a danger to decent life, the communism gnawing at his entrails was no more than a natural longing for something better, a protest against persistent hunger transformed into a love for this strange doctrine, whose essence he could never grasp but whose translation, “bread for the poor,” was something which he understood and, more importantly, filled him with hope.

From this passage the reader gets a sense for Guevara’s skill at putting himself in others’ shoes. Communism is such a dirty word in our own country, but Guevara is able to look past the stereotypes and understand why these people believe what they believe. And he does this without prejudice, which is rare as much in Latin America as it is in our own country.

In 1960, eight years after Guevara wrote The Motorcycle Diaries, he addressed a group of Cuban medical students and workers. The speech is partially printed in the appendix of this edition. Guevara discusses his development from medical student to revolutionary doctor.

Then I realized one fundamental thing: to be a revolutionary doctor, or to be a revolutionary, there must first be a revolution. The isolated effort, the individual effort, the purity of ideals, the desire to sacrifice an entire lifetime to the noblest of ideals means naught if that effort is made alone, solitary, in some corner of Latin America, fighting against hostile governments and social conditions that do not permit progress.

Guevara goes on to talk about the importance of weapons in a revolution, which I’ve decided to exclude here. But what I find interesting in this piece is his emphasis on unity. He tells these students that their cause and effort is worthless if it is done alone. If there is no revolution, there is no power behind what you might be working towards. This theory can easily be applied to certain events in this U.S., especially now with the war in Iraq and the horrible response to the hurricane disaster.

For years I’ve seen Che’s dark silhouette adorn T-shirts, posters and even tattoos in this country. But I never had a full understanding of why. And I still have much to learn. But what I’ve gained from this book is that Guevara cared for his people, and all people. He believed that everyone had the right to work and be paid, to have food if they’re hungry, and believe whatever it is they want to believe. Although he became a famous, powerful revolutionary, he was a human being first, and that’s what this book reminds us.

Inquisitors

Title: Poison
Author: Kathryn Harrison
Publisher: HarperCollins
Publication Year: 1995
Rating: A-

This shocking and descriptive tale of the Spanish Inquisition is like that old cliché about a car wreck. You can’t help but look. The violence is so dramatic it will make a reader’s stomach turn. But you can’t put it down. Each word is eaten up and savored due to the beautiful way Kathryn Harrison displays atrocities, heartache and passion.

The only freedom in this novel is found in Harrison’s descriptions. This story is about literal and figurative jails. Francisca de Luarca, the daughter of a failed silk farmer, narrates this tale from her cell where she has been kept after being arrested by the “White Hoods” of the Inquisition. Marie Louise, the beautiful French princess, is married to a sickly, confused and impotent King Carlos II. Francisca is punished for having an affair with a priest; Marie Louise is punished for not becoming pregnant with the king’s heir.

Harrison’s focus on sin – whether from the Inquisitors’ perspectives or those of the characters – makes for interesting reading. She juxtaposes the harsh judgment of the religious police with the actual sins of the townspeople. In one scene, Francisca’s lover the priest reveals to her the confessions of her neighbors. The confessions are reduced to pillow gossip. Francisca learns of the confessions of her father and sister. But they are simple confessions. They are not of witchcraft and lust as the Inquisitors would believe. They are of honest human feelings: hatred, distrust, confusion, disbelief.

Violence is heavy throughout this novel. The punishments of those condemned – the torture of Francisca by the hooded men – are at times hard to read. But other times Harrison poetically displays these atrocities in a way that the reader almost forgets how disgusting they are. In a milder example, Queen Maria Louisa (as her name is changed) is being bled due to an infection brought on by poison. Harrison writes:

Nearing death, and brimming with longing for those she has loved and lost, an unexpected, almost embarrassing smell of revelation flows from Maria’s opened vein. Freed from the constraints of flesh, memories and desires, carried in her blood crowd about the room. Her heart empties itself silently, but Dr. Severo cringes as if at a sudden clamor, and his boy shrinks back against the draperies.

This is just one example of how Harrison appeals to all the senses. Not only is this a visual scene with the blood flowing down the queens foot, but the author uses “smell” in an unusual way to describe her memories and her disappointment. The prose is beautiful and continues this way through the entire novel.

The queen’s story is especially intriguing because it is historically based. The reader constantly questions if the events really happen. Her feelings of longing for her home country and the freedoms of childhood are tangible and realistic. King Carlos is humorous at times, though in the darkest way. He clings to his saints the way he did the breasts of his wet nurses until the age of twelve. He has never figured out the proper way to have intercourse, and his doctors refuse to correct him for fear of being reprimanded. Instead the queen is blamed, while the king cannot stop ejaculating on her thighs instead of the proper orifice. But the humor ends when Harrison describes the procedures Maria Louisa endured because of the king’s ignorant impotence.

I found myself more less involved in Francisca's story than the queen's. Her childish nature and rebelliousness was a little too much, almost forced. Her passion for the priest and their love affair seemed forced as well, almost as if they were included by the writer to balance the lack of passion in the royal marriage. But it was overdone. And it was hard to sympathize with Francisca until the very end of the book (besides the death of her mother), when she describes bearing the priest's child and then losing it.

Harrison also touches on the issue of faithlessness, and the natural instinct of humans to question their faith. At the end of the novel, Francisca says: “What do I believe? In nothing, and everything. When Mateo (her son) died, whatever faith I had in life’s goodness evaporated. Like the faint moisture of the last breath that clouds the mirror, when my child died that thin mist of my faith evaporated.

“Still, I pray. We all do. We cannot help ourselves.”

How can those who’ve led such tortured lives still have faith? It is an amazing thing, and something we’ve witnessed throughout history. People need something to believe in. At times it is their saving grace; other times it is the key to their demise. Either way, it is central to all of time: past, present and future.