Araby Knight :: essays research papers

"Araby" Knight     The short story "Araby" by James Joyce could very well be described as a deep numbers create verbally in prose. Read casually, it seems all but incomprehensible, nothing more than a series of depressing impressions and memories thrown together in a patchwork quilt and somehow meant to depict a childhood infatuation. Like the sweet milk inside a coconut, the pleasure of this story comes only to the reader who is willing to specify forth the intense effort necessary to comprehend it. Or like an onion, peeling off one layer reveals yet another deeper, more biting level. Practically every insignificant detail becomes vitally important and meaningful as the plot progresses, until it becomes apparent that this story is not about romance at all but rather the "coming of age" that marks everyones passage into adulthood. This is especially apparent in the point of view, the symbolism of the first paragraph, and the character of the storyteller himself.     Crucial to an understanding of this story is a solid grasp of its point of view. It is important to recognize that the story is written from an adult perspective. This is revealed in at least two ways the style and tone or air.     The style of writing-its technical construction-is probably the most obvious. From the opening sentence on, the writing leaves no doubt that the designer is mature and highly experienced He uses an exceptional vocabulary, he has a propensity for figurative language, and his sentences are full and well-developed. No child would have written the following sentence, exemplary of the entire story "The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces" (178). That is the work of a polished artist.     The tone of the story lends credence to this view. The narrator has matured and put the affa ir behind him. Looking back, he shakes his head and gently ridicules himself in a nostalgic and sad manner "her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood" (179) "What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and quiescence thoughts . . . " (180). In so doing, he disengages himself from the emotions of the infatuation, subtly giving the story a detached air entirely in keeping with the adulthood of the narrator. The boys are visualized accurately enough, but little ardor is infused into the narration. Despite its colorful, even picturesque language, it is matter-of-fact.