Classical Literature.
The comparison I have chosen to make is through the similarity of character interpretation we all face a crossroads. We have the choice to make what we will of our lives. Even when we are persecuted we can still overcome hardship and in the same breath if we choose the wrong road it can lead to sufferance by our own hand.
What makes the works of Joyce and Eliot so intriguing is that they are so personalized in their emotive writings and yet almost surreally detached. As though they could talk about the deepest parts of their souls and it would be no more compelling to them than reading the morning paper. The style of Joyce as well as Eliot is almost a monologue into the minds of the writers. They are vivaciously compelling in the intrinsic expressions that they use. In the portrait of the artist by Joyce you can immediately sense the level of sincere honesty in the first few lines for instance
When you wet the bed first it is warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the oilsheet. That had the queer smell.
One feels almost revulsion and yet that is the emotion that is intended. It goes on to say how his mother smells nice. Contrasting in depth the characters own self inflicted ambiguous nature while retaining detachment from the experience of shame. In the work of Eliot in the Wasteland in the very first pages we see a similar emotion of detachment in the following
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying Stetson You who were with me in the ships at Mylae 70 That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout Will it bloom this year Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed Oh keep the Dog far hence, thats friend to men, Or with his nails hell dig it up again You hypocrite lecteur - mon semblable, - mon frere
The words themselves are hurtled out like stones that mesmerize the reader with their intensity. The similarity that I see in the writings of Joyce and Eliot is the one is the youth and the other the adult, yet they both perceive the world with a cutting clarity that defies them from the rest of society. Even though the one character has acerbic wit and inflicts his words like a lash. The other has an open honesty that is as compelling in its very nature. Defining both characters as not only intellectuals but also somehow almost deified in their purity of mind. In essence the characters are opposites. One being the innocent child aristocrat, while the other being the not so nave gentleman. It is compelling that even though the styles of writing are vastly different from each other they both embody the Victorian era. They could almost mirror each other in their surreal natures. One could almost feel and sense the isolation of their intellectuality. Not only intellectuality but also the context in which they both see beauty in the world around them as metaphors, for instance in Joyce the following metaphor is used
He thought his face must be white because it felt so cool. He could not get out the answer for the sum but it did not matter. White roses and red roses those were beautiful colours to think of.
He is found in his detachment from the real world in essence living in ones personal paradise of crafted beauty. While avoiding the conflict of the confrontation that he found himself about to endure.
In the case of Eliot we see the suave gentleman also detaching his mind from the surroundings and entering a dream like portrait in the following
That freshened from the window, these ascended 90 In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling. Huge sea-wood fed with copper Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, In which sad light a carved dolphin swam. Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king.
The isolated worlds in which these two characters live is beautifully tempting, almost seducing the reader into the very core of their souls. I believe we all have that inner world and it is very rare to be able to see into those worlds. I think that is one of the reasons why both writers have gone down in history. We all analytically have an inner world. We have emotions, fears and love. We have shame and we have ego. In which we are almost demigods, our thoughts spiraling and dancing amidst each other although not nearly as eloquently or as honestly as the writings of these two books. When one reads a book as potent as these it awakens our very souls.
In essence we like the characters and see them as our best friends more so than friends because we see into there very minds.
It is a journey into the very psyche of the characters compelling us to feel emotion. Sometimes we are more alike than we realize and only through that intimate process. That society has told us is taboo can we really see the soul.
Woolf, in the work To the light House also takes the character into a very deep and personal experience. In fact it is the style of all three writers to vivaciously take us into the worlds of the characters. The appreciation of beauty and intellectuality is mesmerizing in its profound honesty. Although all three writers wrote very differently from each other their works will remain classics throughout the ages. They say that in every person there is one book and it is true. It is reflected in the characters although they are weaved by the writer, almost plagued by the very gifts that make them unique. The writers have breathed their souls into their work.
What I find fascinating is that in the wasteland it almost ends in damnation, that the very fiber of the character is torn and wrestled away. That even in the damnation of ones actions it can still be stirringly beautiful. However the opposite is seen in the work of Joyce, the gloom becomes salvation and he is met as a hero by his fellow friends that his tormentor had lost the power to inflict pain. It is interesting that out of the two characters the one starts out beautifully enjoying life like a king amongst men abusing his charisma. While the other starts out as conflicted and shamed by torment.
The contrast between the Joyce and Eliot that is so remarkable in the analysis of the two is that one leads to virtue and paradise while the other leads to damnation and a personal hell. The reason I chose to focus so closely on those two books is because even though they were almost opposite extremes the characters themselves could easily have traded places. That we all have choices to make and that our actions lead to the culmination therein. In the work of Eliot we see the character abuse the world, eventually leading to if you will The Wasteland. While in Joyce we see the world abusing the character, eventually leading to the Portrait of the Artist.
The appreciation of beauty in the two books is disturbingly poignant, that such incredible beauty can be seen in the minds of the characters That in their very natures they are able to express their deepest psyche with such ease leaves one breathless.
Although I focused on only two characters the entire works are filled with the same flow of the conscientious stream. It is a technique that very few writers are able to brandish with such ease and aplomb.
What makes the works of Joyce and Eliot so intriguing is that they are so personalized in their emotive writings and yet almost surreally detached. As though they could talk about the deepest parts of their souls and it would be no more compelling to them than reading the morning paper. The style of Joyce as well as Eliot is almost a monologue into the minds of the writers. They are vivaciously compelling in the intrinsic expressions that they use. In the portrait of the artist by Joyce you can immediately sense the level of sincere honesty in the first few lines for instance
When you wet the bed first it is warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the oilsheet. That had the queer smell.
One feels almost revulsion and yet that is the emotion that is intended. It goes on to say how his mother smells nice. Contrasting in depth the characters own self inflicted ambiguous nature while retaining detachment from the experience of shame. In the work of Eliot in the Wasteland in the very first pages we see a similar emotion of detachment in the following
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying Stetson You who were with me in the ships at Mylae 70 That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout Will it bloom this year Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed Oh keep the Dog far hence, thats friend to men, Or with his nails hell dig it up again You hypocrite lecteur - mon semblable, - mon frere
The words themselves are hurtled out like stones that mesmerize the reader with their intensity. The similarity that I see in the writings of Joyce and Eliot is the one is the youth and the other the adult, yet they both perceive the world with a cutting clarity that defies them from the rest of society. Even though the one character has acerbic wit and inflicts his words like a lash. The other has an open honesty that is as compelling in its very nature. Defining both characters as not only intellectuals but also somehow almost deified in their purity of mind. In essence the characters are opposites. One being the innocent child aristocrat, while the other being the not so nave gentleman. It is compelling that even though the styles of writing are vastly different from each other they both embody the Victorian era. They could almost mirror each other in their surreal natures. One could almost feel and sense the isolation of their intellectuality. Not only intellectuality but also the context in which they both see beauty in the world around them as metaphors, for instance in Joyce the following metaphor is used
He thought his face must be white because it felt so cool. He could not get out the answer for the sum but it did not matter. White roses and red roses those were beautiful colours to think of.
He is found in his detachment from the real world in essence living in ones personal paradise of crafted beauty. While avoiding the conflict of the confrontation that he found himself about to endure.
In the case of Eliot we see the suave gentleman also detaching his mind from the surroundings and entering a dream like portrait in the following
That freshened from the window, these ascended 90 In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling. Huge sea-wood fed with copper Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, In which sad light a carved dolphin swam. Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king.
The isolated worlds in which these two characters live is beautifully tempting, almost seducing the reader into the very core of their souls. I believe we all have that inner world and it is very rare to be able to see into those worlds. I think that is one of the reasons why both writers have gone down in history. We all analytically have an inner world. We have emotions, fears and love. We have shame and we have ego. In which we are almost demigods, our thoughts spiraling and dancing amidst each other although not nearly as eloquently or as honestly as the writings of these two books. When one reads a book as potent as these it awakens our very souls.
In essence we like the characters and see them as our best friends more so than friends because we see into there very minds.
It is a journey into the very psyche of the characters compelling us to feel emotion. Sometimes we are more alike than we realize and only through that intimate process. That society has told us is taboo can we really see the soul.
Woolf, in the work To the light House also takes the character into a very deep and personal experience. In fact it is the style of all three writers to vivaciously take us into the worlds of the characters. The appreciation of beauty and intellectuality is mesmerizing in its profound honesty. Although all three writers wrote very differently from each other their works will remain classics throughout the ages. They say that in every person there is one book and it is true. It is reflected in the characters although they are weaved by the writer, almost plagued by the very gifts that make them unique. The writers have breathed their souls into their work.
What I find fascinating is that in the wasteland it almost ends in damnation, that the very fiber of the character is torn and wrestled away. That even in the damnation of ones actions it can still be stirringly beautiful. However the opposite is seen in the work of Joyce, the gloom becomes salvation and he is met as a hero by his fellow friends that his tormentor had lost the power to inflict pain. It is interesting that out of the two characters the one starts out beautifully enjoying life like a king amongst men abusing his charisma. While the other starts out as conflicted and shamed by torment.
The contrast between the Joyce and Eliot that is so remarkable in the analysis of the two is that one leads to virtue and paradise while the other leads to damnation and a personal hell. The reason I chose to focus so closely on those two books is because even though they were almost opposite extremes the characters themselves could easily have traded places. That we all have choices to make and that our actions lead to the culmination therein. In the work of Eliot we see the character abuse the world, eventually leading to if you will The Wasteland. While in Joyce we see the world abusing the character, eventually leading to the Portrait of the Artist.
The appreciation of beauty in the two books is disturbingly poignant, that such incredible beauty can be seen in the minds of the characters That in their very natures they are able to express their deepest psyche with such ease leaves one breathless.
Although I focused on only two characters the entire works are filled with the same flow of the conscientious stream. It is a technique that very few writers are able to brandish with such ease and aplomb.
