Friday, January 25, 2019

The Seven “Dedalus” Sins

     In The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, we’ve seen a lot of developmental changes throughout Stephen. He starts off as a curious innocent child and eventually turns into a teen with raging-hormones who takes everything to the extreme. We’ve talked about the unhealthiness of his actions, and the music of Joyce’s narration throughout the book. However, one thing I picked up (and felt amused by) from our class discussion was Stephen’s journey through the seven sins and how that changes our perspective of him.

     The seven sins include pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. We can easily see Stephen commit the sin of lust when he sleeps with a prostitute in chapter two: “He burned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien. He cared little that he was in mortal sin, that his life had grown to be a tissue of subterfuge and falsehood.” (pg. 105) From this blatant description of succumbing to lust, we can conclude he’s aware that he’s committing a sin. I’ll put it out there that I’m a little shocked that he’s sleeping with prostitutes at sixteen, however, I’ll argue Stephen’s list of sins starts way earlier.

     I believe Stephen’s first sin was gluttony because he does everything in excess: We can see it during the infirmary when he vividly pictures his funeral. We reacted with laughter and viewed Stephen as a drama queen. If his development stopped there, I feel that we’d still view Stephen as the “charming religious kid,” however, Stephen takes pride in being the "lone" kid at the party. He also gluts at the idea of looking humble before the priest who “pandied” him. Stephen then starts experiencing wrath: Perhaps it stems from the laughter Stephen receives when his father hears about his meeting with Father Dolan – humiliation. He becomes cold with his family and envious that life isn’t going his way (thanks to moving from house to house). Stephen also broods at the fact he did nothing on the tram – angry at his inaction. At that point, some of us dismissed his behaviors as “classic teenager syndrome” or so to speak.

     If we take it farther, I would say Stephen’s actions with the prize money he won was an act of greed. Instead of saving the money, Stephen exuberantly spent it on plays and squares of Vienna chocolate. Stephen also commits the sin of sloth because he time and time again waiting for some female to encounter him first – it’s why he “wanders.” While I can’t speak for others, I’m frustrated at Stephen’s behavior. I felt like, “Stephen should know better.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I grew up respecting morals more than Stephen, but maybe that’s my own arrogance showing through.

     I find it hilarious that the entire time everyone on the outside views Stephen as this saint character: He appears as a goody-two-shoes. This doesn’t even cover any of the events from chapter three and four. Truthfully, I relate to Stephen’s internal struggles. I’ve been greedy before (Halloween is a glorious example), and I’ve also once believed I knew better than anyone – the classic teenager stereotype. Based on everything that’s happened, could growing-up just be a process of learning how to overcome the seven sins? His attempts at changing his behavior in chapter four seem promising despite how he’s going about it – physical self-punishment rather than mental resilience. We won’t know more until later, so I’m excited to see how Stephen will develop.

Thursday, January 17, 2019

Everyone's Ageist: Understanding Stephen's Age

To start off, I’d like to explain why I named my blog “Ageist.” I’m just going to throw it out there: I believe everyone is unconsciously ageist. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an insult. Throughout this semester, I’m expecting a lot of society-built assumptions about age: It’s too young to do “blank,” or the character — cough, Stephen — acts like he’s an old man. The very first day of class was a discussion about what is the “coming-of-age” milestone. Ignoring other various factors like whether a person has literally lived under a rock and personality traits, I’m generally sticking my guns to twenty-five.
            Taking all that into account, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man never explicitly says how old Stephen Daedalus is. We assume when he wets the bed, he’s a naïve child still learning to piece together his environment. Because he goes to “college” and the conversations seem immature, we think he’s about seven to ten years old. Later, we say Stephen has the soul of an old tormented man, but he’s just an edgy teenager trying to embrace the “brooding cool guy” vibe. Sometimes we laugh at Stephen’s dramatic attempts and experiences because we have a deeper understanding of what’s going on.
We’re almost halfway through this book and one thing sticks out to me: If I read this when I was younger, I could’ve mistaken Stephen for an adult. His inner monologue paints him as this posh character. His thoughts clearly show his cold and distant demeanor towards others including family (e.g Stephen refers to the kids at the party as “children”). We only know his age because of the social context — possibly personal experience too. Because of the general ageist viewpoint of our current century, we understand the stereotype of a growing teenager. We can understand Joyce’s novel unfold from different perspectives: as a fellow child and somewhat normal member of society.