Wednesday, January 21, 2015

"The Terror of Sleep"

From the moment Stephen Dedalus makes the journey to Cork with his father in James Joyce's The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, his mindset becomes increasingly ambivalent, his idealism merging and colliding with the opposite extreme of growing defeatism. While his somewhat voluntary alienation can be perceived as a sort of superiority, I think it arises from his mounting fear; the fear of certain isolation which consequently prevents him from acting upon the potential of connection.

In Chapter II especially, this feared "isolation" seems to manifest itself as the concept of living death or oblivion. On the train, Stephen falls asleep for hours and wakes up to find his father and most everyone else asleep, realizing his fear of not being fully conscious while life continues to unfold, of not understanding others and himself: "The terror of sleep fascinated his mind.. unseen sleepers filled him with strange dread as though they could harm him..."  As his father goes on inquiring about the deaths of friends and relatives, Stephen contemplates Parnell's death, Dante, and the more terrible "death" of ceasing to exist through being forgotten, in relation to how Stephen currently views himself as potentially unseen and misunderstood by others. The lust and desire he attempts to quench with his romantic image of Mercedes similarly illustrates this feared oblivion or unconsciousness in the death of his romantic dreams.

Notably, in his encounter with the woman in the street, Joyce first depicts Stephen's thoughts as relief: "He was in another world: he had awakened from a slumber of centuries." At first, this woman represents to Stephen a potential Mercedes, someone who will hold him and finally see and understand him. Yet despite his want for this, he cannot kiss her and when she does, the result is a darker resolution as opposed to a romantic culmination, the resolution of his repressed lust. Through his descriptions, Joyce describes Stephen as willfully giving up his consciousness, surrendering to the previously feared oblivion. In such a way, he doesn't wake but instead goes on to perceive himself as "in mortal sin," essentially half-surrendering to living death as he believes himself to already be spiritually dead.

I couldn't help thinking of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" throughout this section. Throughout the whole poem, Prufrock fantasizes about and struggles with the idea of acting upon his desire in the potential of connecting with others and never does, similarly perceived as "pretentious" in his fear of being misunderstood. What strikes me the most, however, is the last line of the poem which reads, "Till human voices wake us and we drown." I interpreted this line to mean that ultimately one is disillusioned by ideals, but in this increased awareness enters a sort of living death and surrender, not dissimilar to Stephen's sexual encounter.

Death is of course, contemplated in great depth in the Father's sermons concerning Hell. Part of why he is able to make such an impression on Stephen is because he is able to take Stephen's previous concentration on living death and isolation which he has already somewhat submitted himself to and shift it to the consequences of literal death, preaching that this death and the "last things" is what should be prioritized in the mind. Stephen's previously feared unconsciousness on earth is translated by the preacher into Time and the indulgence of sin that comes with it ("Time is, time was, but time shall be no more!") Consequently, Stephen is supplied with hope as he now believes in the lack of alienation of a life after death and through being loved by God.

Eliot's reference to Dante's Inferno in "The Love Song"suggests that for Prufrock, Hell is this isolation and alienated turmoil he is going through. While Stephen may have been of like mind before, he is now supplied with this concrete description of Hell he can latch on to, something known to be feared as opposed to the "unknown" he submits himself to in his first sexual exploit. This higher mindset, this pre-constructed consciousness is what currently absolves him of attempting to further develop his own struggling perception of those around him.

2 comments:

  1. You're getting at an important aspect of Stephen's sense of self in this formative chapter--there is a kind of "superiority" implied in his detachment (reflected in references to his "contempt of his schoolfellows"), but you're right to point out that partly this is a posture that Stephen affects to mask his dread of existential solitude. In other words, while on the one hand the idea that he's "special" and will face a unique destiny is exciting and affirmative, and helps him to understand his life as not bound by geographical ties to Ireland, familial ties to the Dedalus clan, or political allegiances, on the other hand it's a scary prospect to see oneself as venturing into uncharted waters at such a young age. There's undoubtedly some terror here, and something like rationalization, turning his sense of "exile" or "apartness" into a virtue.

    Among the "sinful" tendencies that appear to be resolved by the end of chap. 3 is this sense of himself as apart from others--with *Communion* at the close of the chapter, he now sees himself as one among others, a humble link in the "living rail of hands."

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  2. I definitely think you're on to something with how Hell represents a concrete remainder of just what Stephen's scared of. It makes sense to me how Stephen is terrified of being passed by/forgotten even while he's not doing anything to stand out or engage others -- on some level maybe he's aware that he will be forgotten, more than the average person, even as he remembers almost everyone else. I'm willing to bet Rodney Kickham doesn't still remember the 11-year-old he went to school with for a year.

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