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I read the story this morning travelling to work. That - of being able to read - is a great advantage of living in Switzerland where you don't need a car and can get to practically any place using public transport. And, I fell in love with it. After returning home I read through Gayatri's nice summary and saw that in many aspects we have looked at the story with different eyes - (mine is dark brown, yours, Gayatri?!) I am not saying one view is more valid than the other. What I do mean is that it is enchanting to understand that one can react to a story in such different ways. Again after reading all that, I read the introduction given by Terence Brown. That throws totally new light on the story. That led me to think about what Rasik said yesterday that often he had no patience with the ramblings that went on here - (or something to that effect). Terence Brown's intro shows how important it is to know something (quite a lot of things, actually) about the period in which a particular story is written. Only then one can really understand what the writer has tried to say. That leads to the understanding of the story on a totally different plane. Everything else, understanding on other levels, can come across as being devoid of substance. It is like looking at modern painting. But that is another story altogether. At this point I want to set Brown's points aside. (Can bring them up later, if anybody is interested.) And put down my initial - unalloyed -thoughts about the story. As Gayatri pointed out it is a story of two "friends", Chandler and Gallaher. Two very different kinds of characters. Even the first names are well chosen. Chandler is Tommy and Gallaher is Ignatius (any significance here??) Chandler is what one calls in German a "moechte gern" person, a kind of "want-to-be-there" person. Gallaher is "already-there" kind. On the outset Chandler is one of those who are typical failures in life. He is 32 but is immature; he spends time on trivials. He is introduced as the Little Chandler, and everything about him is "little". Including his "white hands" on with their "perfect half-moons" and he came across to me as being a slimy person, with a mean streak. Inspite of being incapable of succeding in life, he looks down on poorer people. A typical brown babu kind of character. I did not like him; he did not evoke any sympathy in me. He has ambitions, wants to write poetry, but even that is a means to an end and does not come out of his heart. If he had really liked poetry he would not be shy of reading his favourite poems aloud to his wife. He used to talk about travelling / "to knock about a bit in the world". And how far had he come? Upto the Isle of Man!! And Gallaher is one of those "neue Reich" - new rich -people, who would succeed in life, come what may. He is through and through a shallow character, vulgar in his expressions (he tells Chandler " you had .. tasted the joys of connubial bliss."), way of living. He has left Dublin, his old country, has seen the life in Paris, lives in London. But all that this experience has given him is a coat of gaudy varnish. All Chandler can offer Gallaher is an evening with a little music at his home, and as can be expected that offer is rejected outright. In short, both characters in this very well written story are hollow human beings, without any substance. I see now the reason why Joyce would have included this story before Counterparts in this collecton. Mr. Farrington's life in the office in Counterparts could be a reflection of Chandler's life in his office. Though this story is not an uplifting story, it is very attractive because of the writing style. As we are just now talking about Mozart and Salieri on the Sasialit list, this story is like Mozart's music. Some sentences are very beautiful. A taste follows: "The glow of a late autumn sunset covered the grass plots and walks. It cast a shower of kindly golden dust on the untidy nurses and decrepit old men who drowsed on the benches ....." "A light began to tremble on the horizon of his mind." As I said earlier, the characters gain a totally different meaning if one knows a bit about the period in which it was written. That is for another time. Chandra |
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