After I finished the book I did some reading and found that Joyce had originally submitted this as a treaty on Aesthetics. I found his take on aesthetics to be interesting. "-Art, said Stephen, is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end" (Joyce, 207). In fact, Stephen's entire conversation with Lynch about art, aesthetics and beauty is fascinating. His contention that beauty should create a stasis between pity and terror rather than a kinetic emotion is an interesting and dispassionate notion. I think it is wrong, but it is at the very least thought provoking. His take on false art producing kinetic emotions like desire and loathing is something to take into account. Sadly, his attempt to get his thoughts on aesthetics was unpublished and he housed it in this semi-autobiographical tale that had more boring parts than interesting ones. I guess he accomplished his goal and left me in sort of a stasis, offering few kinetic emotions about his book.
One of the few times I felt kinetic emotion was during the retreat section when the priests were calling for repentance so that no soul would suffer eternal damnation. In my mind's eye I recalled terrifying sermons from the retired senior pastor who gave such terrifying images of hellfire and brimstone I prayed nightly to escape such a fate. Tears and stress overtook me overtime he preached this message and I can't imagine hell much scarier than as he put it. I empathized with Stephen as he struggled with repenting and the notion that he had done to much to escape this terrible fate. "What did it avail to pray when he knew that his soul lusted after its own destruction?" (Joyce, 103-104). I understand that line on a visceral level. I also understand his wrestling with faith throughout the book, though I find my ending point to be vastly different than that of Stephen's.
I found that like Daumal in A Night of Serious Drinking Joyce also sends a jab to the nose of reason. While Daumal called reason the off-loading of the responsibility to think, Joyce calls reason a pollutant. "A phrase of Cornelius Agrippa flew through his mind and then there flew hither and tither shapeless thoughts from Swedenborg on the correspondence of birds to things of the intellect and of how the creatures of the air have their knowledge and know their times and seasons because they, unlike man are in the order of their life and have not perverted that order by reason" (Joyce, 224-225).
Joyce unleashes a stinging attack on Protestantism in the back end of the book. Much of this book houses an Irish history that I don't fully know and can't fully know. It concerns self-rule and the religious trappings of a Protestant-Catholic war that has obvious political overtones. But, I do, even as someone who isn't Catholic understand his criticism of the disorganized way in which protestantism worships and structures there fragmented theological opinions. "I said that I had lost the faith, Stephen answered, but not that I had lost selfrespect. What kind of liberation would that be to forsake an absurdity which is logical and coherent and to embrace one which is illogical and incoherent?" (Joyce, 243-244). I don't agree that faith is necessarily an absurdity nor do I find Protestantism illogical. But, I do find and struggle with the fact that Protestantism is so incoherent and crave some of the symmetry and logically soundness behind Catholicism.
Lastly, I found this line to be sadly beautiful in its composition and meaning. "The past is consumed in the present and the present is living only because it brings forth the future" (Joyce, 251). I find that restlessness and striving to be endearing, but also wearying.
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