Review of "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man"

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man: Text, Criticism & Notes by James Joyce

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I am glad that I read the edition of this book that I did, which also contained criticism, notes, and related texts. Not only was the literary criticism very well selected, edited, and arranged, it also genuinely added to the overall experience of the book to be able to see how reactions to it have evolved over the years.

The notes/glossary, though somewhat limited, also helped a great deal. It give definitions of particularly Irish turn-of-the-century idioms and colloquialisms, translates the sometimes copious Latin, and gives context and definition for the many references to the minutiae of the Catholic faith. It also elucidates some of the references to Classical literature and poetry.

Which leads me to the one thing about Joyce that really bothers me: the constant deluge of references. I appreciate the extreme usefulness of references to history and literature: it can instantly provide a complex, sometimes even ineffable backdrop or comparison to the situation. Reference "Out, damn'd spot! out, I say!" from Macbeth, and you call to mind a psychological and situational image with a single stroke that would be difficult or impossible to achieve by direct description.

The problem is that Joyce's references are often obscure, subtle, and essential to fully understanding the story. Without a concordance of some sort, Stephen's climactic shout of "Nothung!" in Ulysses - referencing a hero's sword from Wagner - would be utterly meaningless to me. References to the historic and theological differences between small groups of Catholic sub-sects would have been completely lost on me.

That said, James Joyce is unassailably a literary genius. He himself said that he could "justify every word in my book"; in my opinion anything other than a fully engaged reading of every word results in missing some nuance, some subtlety that was there by intention. It can be a bit daunting, since it all but guarantees that one will indeed miss a great deal of nuance and subtlety in the course of reading this book. At the same time, that can be said of most great works of art, in my opinion. It is the reason that continually studying them continually yields rewards.

I am both looking forward to and apprehensive about reading Ulysses.


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Catharsis, necessitated by jackassery

We hired three additional temps in my department to take care of some specific large volume tasks. One of the two guys is sorta ok, neither here nor there. The girl is also fine, not someone I'd be good friends with, but we get along. The other guy is a pretentious conceited jackass douche bag. With a Napoleon complex. They all sit together, and I get to hear their conversation all day long. It's come to the point that I grit my teeth every time this guy starts to talk.

In order to prevent myself from freaking out, I've decided to spend my first break of the day relating some of this morning's conversation.

Talking about biking:

• Douchey guy: "I rode all the way from Fremont to Redmond one day. That's like 28 miles."
• Other guy: "I've only ridden that far once, down to Kent"
• Douchey guy: "That's not bad, but my ride had a lot more hills."
• Girl: "It wouldn't do much good for me to ride my bike to work - well actually I don't have a bike,"
• Douchey guy, cutting in: "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't do much good then!"
• Girl: "Yeah, but even if I did, it's all steep downhill from where I live to work, and I'd have to walk my bike home, since there's no way I could ride up the James Street hill from here"
• Douchey guy: "You know, there's this other neat invention for going up hills, called a 'bus'"
• Girl: "Yeah, I guess that's true"
• Douchey guy: "When I was in Sweden they had this cool system that you could hook your leg into and it would drag you up the hill"
• Girl: "Did you yodel while you were doing it?"
• Douchey guy: "I don't know why I would. You do know that yodeling is from Switzerland, not Sweden or Norway, right? You do know that those places are actually really far away from each other, right?"
• Girl: "True; actually my family is mostly from Sweden"
• Douchey guy: "If you were from Sweden, you know that you'd be really offended if someone said something about people yodeling in your country, right?"

My personal favorite came while they were discussing which fast food places are from which parts of the country.

• Other guy: "There are a bunch of Popeye's Chicken places in Tacoma, but the nearest one to here is in Renton."
• Douchey guy, jumping in: "No. It's closed down."
• Other guy: "Actually I was there on Tuesday"
• Douchey guy: "Oh. Well you know there's so many in Tacoma because there's so many of something else in Tacoma too, right?"
• Other guy: "Huh?"
• Douchey guy: "You know why there's so many Popeye's in Tacoma?"
• Other guy, innocently: "Because people there like their fried chicken?"
• Douchey, racist guy: "Yes they do..."

I was sorely tempted to ask him if there were many watermelon stands in Tacoma.

Ok, I guess I feel a little better now...

Us v. Them, over and over again

It never even occurs to me to actually write in my blog. I'm not sure why, really, since I muse on things constantly - it's just that if I'm not actually talking to another person, I don't feel overly compelled to express them. Plus I have the feeling that my own standards of clarity and cohesion would make the process more of a trial than a pleasure, and take far more time than I'm likely to want to devote to the process. I suppose that the next time I'm thinking about something, I'll try to find a handy keyboard and see if I can't bang out something.

This morning I was thinking about the pervasive importance of "same" and "different" when it comes to human psychology. I can understand where it comes from a social evolutionary perspective: as humans became increasingly reliant on intelligence rather than physicality to survive, individuals became far more vulnerable than communities, and the Us vs. Them mentality strongly promotes bonding and cooperation in a group. The thing that I find so fascinating is the ubiquity and power of this tendency throughout our history. It seems like group identity has been one of the primary (or perhaps THE primary) constant when it comes to human interaction on any scale. Be it a sense of identity based on religious principals, geography (from the level of villages to nations), language, race and ethnicity, philosophy, age, sex, or any of a seemingly unending list of attributes and beliefs, people are constantly aware of who is one of Us and who is one of Them.

The correlate of the sense of bonding and belonging between members of the former is the sense of fear and animosity towards the latter. It is the essence of group conflicts of any level; it would be impossible to imagine a war that wasn't based on the idea of "same" and "different" because it is the definition of war that two self-identified groups enter into a conflict based on a shared value, whatever it may be. Perhaps Col. Hunter Gathers expressed it best in The Venture Brothers: "The minute God crapped out the third cave man, a conspiracy was hatched against one of them!"

It seems like the struggle to overcome - or at least to master - this basic principal of our nature is itself a defining aspect of our struggle to be a more mature species. In politics of any level you can hear the constant attempt to both respect and honor the group identities that we admire (e.g., culture, patriotism, faith, community) and to decry and denigrate the group identities that we see as detrimental (e.g., racism, sexism, distaste of the poor). The fundamental inconsistency is that these are all based on exactly the same ideal; "cultural pride" becomes "racism", "patriotism" becomes "jingoism", and "community in faith" becomes "religious intolerance".

None of this is new; as I said, it seems to be a fundamental aspect of our evolutionary history. The positive aspect of this struggle is that it does push us to be more mature as individuals and in our respective groups. It is of course easier for people who have the luxury of a first-world lifestyle to muse on the evils wrought by the "us vs. them" nature of humanity; the more stress a person is under, the more powerful the drive to form protective alliances and groups becomes, and for good reason. I think that's the best argument for the immense respect we should have for groups that have managed to maintain tolerance and compassion even when under incredible stress. The very existence of the Buddhist religion in Tibet is all but miraculous.

I am the biggest dork in the universe, and I invite you all to make fun of me.

I found my car.

While sorting some laundry this afternoon I found my remote door lock thingy for my car, and with a sardonic smirk I stuck it in my pocket. Later, when I was on my way to the store, I thought about a remark a friend of mine had made earlier in the day, that when his car was stolen he later ended up finding it himself just a few blocks away from where it was taken, so I thought it would be interesting to press the Lock-and-Beep button on the remote as I was walking. After all, it's got about a half-block range, and it would be funny if I managed to find it that way.

When I got to the store, I walked to the door via the underground parking lot. I pressed. I heard. I did a double take, pressed again, heard the horn again. I caught a glimpse of my car, and without even going over to it, I turned around and walked back to my apartment to grab the car key that I'd taken off my key ring. I walked back, went in the store without going through the lot, and did my shopping. Despite trying to think of all possibilities, Occam's Razor tore them all to shreds except one: that I had actually driven to the store, and walked home without my car.

I immediately remembered the very first thing that Donna asked me when we found that my car was gone, which was if it was possible I drove somewhere and left my car there. Well, actually she asked me whether I got drunk and drove it somewhere and forgot about it, to which I can still answer "no", but the essence is the same.

The scant points in my defense:

1 - I never drive to the store. I actually feel guilty driving to the store as it's only about four blocks away, and I can always do with more exercise, plus the whole environment thing. The only time I ever drive to the store is when I know I'm going to be buying something really heavy, like lots of liquids, or cat litter, or something else I wouldn't want to try and carry home. I can't even remember the last time that might have been the case, though. The only other time would be when I'm coming home from somewhere and decide to stop in for something on the way, and generally I remember it when I've been driving for the last 20 minutes before going in.

2 - I actually did try to think of anywhere I might have left it, and even checked in the parking lot of my doctor's office, which was the only place I could remember driving to where it would even be a possibility that I might have taken a bus home by accident. I wracked my brain for anywhere else I might have driven, but the only times I even use my car these days is when I'm going somewhere far. I work downtown, so I take the bus there and walk home, and most of the time if I'm going out it's either also downtown or it's somewhere that it's easier to take a bus to than it is to find a place to park.

3 - Hmm. Nope, nothing.

As I was finishing my shopping, I saw that there was a buy two, get two free sale on 12-packs of canned soda, so I picked up four packs of the heavy awkward things. I also started composing this blog entry in my head, since I knew I'd have to find a way to tell everyone of my idiocy.

Come to think of it, I guess I can fill in #3 on the above list: at least I didn't bitch and moan endlessly about how my car was stolen, or feel sorry for myself. In fact, everyone I did tell remarked that they would be far more upset than I was, so at least I can't be accused of playing for pity.

I called to cancel my police report, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell the cops that I'd just left my car somewhere (though I highly doubt it would be novel for them). I told them I found it in a parking lot near my apartment. Technically true, though I did say it was roughly around Western and Denny, which is pushing the definition of "roughly". As compared to all of Seattle, then yes, it was roughly by Western and Denny. I also told them that I didn't find anything that could be seen as evidence in the car; also technically true. I don't know why I didn't just tell them I was a moron, which would have been more than technically true.

At least I've learned a few things from this embarrassing experience. First, Seattle has a really good public transportation system, though getting to certain areas is a giant pain in the ass (how on earth could it take 50 minutes to go from downtown to the U District?) Second, I can get along just fine without a car as long as I have enough time, and don't have to bring much of anything with me. Third, if you need a place to leave your car for three weeks (which include multiple events at Seattle Center and Key Arena) without anyone messing with it, feel free to use the front spots in the Safeway parking lot, a few feet from the big sign that says "NO EVENT PARKING, LOT MONITORED 24 HOURS A DAY". And fourth, that I apparently black out and drive to grocery stores sometimes, then walk home without remembering.