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Chandra comments: I just now finished reading Counterparts, and then went back to the interesting and intelligent introduction by Alaka as well as comments (also i and i) by Beth. I may have little to add at this point except to say that I felt depressed at the story but did not feel sorry for any of the characters except for little Tom. Is it not said that the world is made of two kinds of people only, those who rule and those who are ruled. In this story the division between these two kinds are smudged, the charaters rule over those who are weaker, and are in turn ruled by those who are stronger than they are. Alleyne exerts power over Farrington, who in trun exerts power over little Tom. Tom does not exert any power in this story only because nobody weaker than him is introduced here. It is so easy to imagine that Tom grows up to be just like his father. I went through different kinds of emotions as I read the story. To start with I felt quite sorry for Farrington who was stuck, perhaps for his entire life, in a job which brought him no joy. I thought what a hell he was living in, day in and day out. I felt, Oh , the wretched of this earth! I quite disliked the character of Alleyne, including his physical description. He is a typical case of worthless person, a person who can only feel he is worth something if he can make somebody else miserable. But the sympathy I felt for Farrington decreased quite soon when I realized how he spent his evenings, it vanished completely when at the very end I understood that he was a married man, was a father of five children, and still he pawned his watch, and spent everything he had (and more than he had) in a public house. Why is it those who lead wretched lives are so often incapable of making others happy? More often than not it is only those who have been happy in life who can make others happy. Unhappiness is like a virus which spreads very quickly. Is this what Joyce showing here - how hopeless the human life is, particularly when it belongs to the "gutters". I am again struck by the similarity life in Joyce's Ireland has with life in India. I can imagine a book Bombayites which could easily contain stories that are found in Dubliners. Of course there would be differences. If an Indian writer would write such a book on the people of Bombay, he would certainly bring in some humanity at the end, and would save the story from becoming too bleak. Joyce was perhaps too great a realist to do that. The other difference is of course the language, the Irish slang, the typical Irish phrases. I can well imagine how it would be when we start reading the Portrait and later Ulysses! Alaka and Beth, I have not tried to answer yet any of the questions you posed about poverty. That is for another post! And Alaka, I do not know what is going to happen to the chat session. There has been no response so far. It does not have to be on a Saturday, neither at 21.00h Swiss time! I hope that others come with some suggestions, and that we can reach an agreement, soon. |
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