The end

With my final blog post, it felt fitting to provide a broader focus on the entire course, and short stories in general. I had previously had little to no experience with this type of writing, but I was exposed to a wide variety in the class, from battle tales to the current Brave New World-esque utopia. It would be remiss for me not to comment on these last two books however, especially given Interpreter of Maladies was one of my favorites, so I’ll attend to them first.

Interpreter of Maladies provided a unique, modern, and more relatable take on the short story foundation. Previous collections had been a bit more difficult for various reasons: the background of The Things They Carried, the thought processes of Self Help, the different time period of Nine Stories, for example. That’s not to say they weren’t excellent collections, especially given these very characteristics gave the class its excellent variety, it’s just that they didn’t quite speak to me in the same way. In terms of how relatable a story is, I’ve always found a good test for me is seeing how well it would do as a non-fantasy, modern, mainstream movie. The previous collections fail, partially for the aforementioned reasons. On the other hand, Interpreter of Maladies passes extremely well: for example, “A Temporary Matter” (my favorite story despite it’s massive drop of an ending), has an extremely universally applicable backdrop, with two extremely human characters. The engaging plot line, mixing an adult truth and dare-ish game, only improves its case.

When reading the first paragraph of “Jon”, I thought perhaps the the background was just some very unusual counseling session for young people. Of course, the actual setting is far more wild than that. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed this utopia/dystopia topic too much, but the noble qualities of Jon carried the story through for me. The fact that the actual setup of the world was not elaborated on too much (possibly due to the format of short story) also helped, considering one of my main gripes with Brave New World was its extremely elaborate and detailed new world. The plotline of breaking out of the system seems a bit generic, but generic lives fine by me as long it’s happy generic, and as mentioned in class, the style of writing also improved this.

To the summing up portion. This section will be mainly me noting personal thoughts on the stories and how they affected me. When the stories worked off of each other (like in The Things They Carried), it seemed like a much more unified collection, and I was more invested in characters. The fact that short stories are short stories inherently means there will be less room for development, so when additional space is afforded via additional stories, that deepens my connection with characters. There’s also much fewer opportunities for an up and down character. Again, there’s simply not enough room to display the bad, the good, and transformations in between like there may be in longer styles. For the characters I already liked, this was a positive, since it didn’t give me any chance to start disliking them, but the flip side also applied.

Altogether, it’s been one the more unique sets of English readings I’ve had. Short stories are definitely one of the more distinctive styles of writing, and I was glad to get a wider sampling.

Drowning in despair

Diaz’s Drown has been an intriguing novel, for a unique perspective on lives previously unknown to me. The title of the book seems apt, given some of themes of hopelessness and struggle in several of the stories, and especially in the specifically titled short story. It doesn’t make for the happiest read, but it seems to reflect reality, and works in its own way. I’ll go through some of the poignant examples in the stories that stuck out to me the most in demonstrating this quality.

“Fiesta, 1980” has a more well-known struggle, with a familial struggle with a questionably-behaving father. Both the children (“If Papi had walked in and caught us lounging around in our underwear, he would have kicked our asses something serious”) and the mother (“He didn’t say nothing to nobody, not even my moms. He just pushed past her, put up his hand when she tried to talk to him”) have major issues with the father, even discounting his even known to his children affair. The struggle seems to unite the boys to a degree against the father, although even when Yunior is denied food, his brother is not fully supportive. It’s a powerful depiction of a seemingly relatable and common situation.

“Aurora” discusses the life of Lucerio, a drug dealer. He maintains a complex relationship the namesake addict, and seems to want something perhaps a little more stable. From the outside, it seems like a terribly unstable arrangement, and even though neither individual is fully against the setup, they don’t seem particularly satisfied either. The ending solidifies the rather depressing theme, with the Lucerio attacking Aurora, and an almost hopeless "Like maybe everything was fine."

Of course, the book’s title story also fulfills the theme. “Drown” depicts a narrator (whose identity I’m still unsure about) who struggles with his feelings for a male friend, among other issues. His shoplifting spree is brought to an end and he seems to be left behind in a hopeless, opportunity-barren environment. His feelings for his companion are confused, not fully against (as demonstrated by his lack of resistance while watching porn), and clearly not for (immediately tossing the gift). The situation seems to remain in this unresolved state, while the story itself comes in a full, progressless circle with a bit about checking windows.

“Drown” altogether provides exceptionally effective emotional effects (a couple of stories with different styles). The background of Diaz is unique among the authors I’ve read, which combines with the previous factors to create an especially interesting read.

Self Help

   Lorrie Moore's collection of stories reveal large sections of their characters' being. She does this relaying their various actions (typical for any story) with terse and direct statements, but more importantly, their thoughts as well to the reader. It all provides a very personal look into each person, and causes each to seem rather fluttered and poorly put together. In general, Moore's characters seem to pursue several nonsensical routes every story, with a number of equally strange thoughts to pair. I don't have many more overarching views on the book, so I'll look over a few of the stories, point out an example of these effects in each, along with any more specific thoughts.

   "How to Be an Other Woman's" entire premise opposes my thoughts on what should be done in Charlene's situation, but it would be too easy to simply to claim being a moral person against adultery. Instead, Charlene's aimless life demonstrates the previously mentioned characteristics of Moore's characters. Her life revolves around an illegitimate relationship, with even lunches at work being centered around the topic, randomly adopting the "wife's" habit of making lists, while admitting herself she's skating through it without an idea of what to do ("What are you going to do? I don't know").

   "How" again revolves to a degree around an affair, although this time in the position of the man in "How to Be Another Woman". Again, you have your typical disgust with doing such a thing, but this time, the affair seems to the be the result of indecisiveness. The girl simply cannot decide what to do about a failing relationship, and as a result chooses the least desirable path of all. She gains neither the satisfaction of freedom from the poor relationship, nor any fulfillment from her current relationship.

   "How to Become a Writer" has perhaps the strangest protagonist of all. Not many of her actions seem to have a purpose (making anagrams of her boyfriend's old girlfriend's name, copying friends' addresses), which paired with her insistence on a ludicrous topic for her writing, does not paint a pleasant character. Her directionlessness and what is effectively giving up at the end of the book ("Quit classes. Quit jobs. Cash in savings bonds") is the most prominent example of a Moore character.

  Moore's characters altogether seem like rudderless, empty packages of strange behavior. Their actions don't make sense, they don't seem to do anything with a purpose, and many have incredibly bland personality.

Smart Kids

   For Esme:--with Love and Squalor was by far my favorite story among the nine we've been reading, and I have many thoughts on the main structure of adult-child interaction.

   I've noticed there's pretty much two ways adults interact with children (13 and before I'm saying, otherwise you're getting the "Where are you going to college?" and "What are you majoring in?"  pair). One would be the more commonly employed super patronizing "I'll say Oh yeah? and reaaaallly a few times before I find someone my age." Then there is simply talking as if the other is a typical person. It makes sense; often the first technique is used simply because of necessity. You simply can't have normal conversations with a lot of kids because what they say isn't compatible. However, the latter can be used more when talking to the hyper-mature, hyper-intelligent kids, of which I've also split into two categories, one which Esme falls into. Accordingly, Sergeant X uses the second style of conversation.
 
   I noted in class that Esme represented why many (including me) believe girls mature faster, at least in some ways. She clearly is the manager between the siblings, with Charles bending to her will, and she easily keeps up in conversation with X. Observant (I have a title and you may just be impressed by titles. Americans are, you know.") and articulate (just given her rapid fire speech with adult vocabulary, even X notes with "I imagined her father had had quite an extraordinary vocabulary"), Esme really fits the bill.

   I enjoyed Esme for that and other reasons I will continue on when I make a comparison. On first reading, I didn't know she was the one inviting the wedding at the beginning, but when I realized X failed to make it, I was exceedingly disappointed. I desperately wanted to see more of Esme and how she progressed, and perhaps what sort of guy could keep up with her.

   Moving backwards, one might respond to my girls mature faster point with Salinger's own example of Teddy. Another precocious child, Teddy nevertheless lacks all of the charisma that made Esme so endearing. He is an utter pest to his father and a maddening self-righteousness about spirituality. He's perhaps reached the range of "too smart", and possibly given the ending "too smart for his own good". It's in the social skills that separates the young gifted girls and guys for me (except for me. I was always the picture of charm).

A perfect day for banana fish

   This story really introduced me to short story Salinger. The previous semester had me reading Catcher in the Rye and learning a bit about the author, but Nine Stories so far has felt foreign. It began with the first story, A Perfect Day for Banana Fish.
   
    The story begins with a girl in her hotel room, waiting for the telephone lines to be freed up. She comes off as very obviously glamorous, with no shortage of adornments, or as it seems suitors ringing her phone. When she begins her call with her mother, the monotone and boredom in "Yes, Mother. How are you?" is almost palpable. She'd been anticipating the call, but very clearly more to get the conversation over with than anything else. Throughout the conversation the girl remains indifferent, just acknowledging her mother's laundry list of concerns while waving them off as mere quirks (not taking off the bathrobe) or irrelevant (the driving in). It appears to be a typical overworrying mother with confident, if naive young adult daughter relationship (one that's also present to a degree in my house).

   The story continues along by the water with the man and a woman named Sybil. They seem to have rather bland conversation, eventually leading to the topic of bananafish, and the tragic ends many face. The dialogue seems rather arbitrary and not terribly interesting, only to be ended with a very strange kissing of a foot. There were two main things I drew from this section: the first being that most of it contributed to a very smooth and unremarkable beginning of the story, and the other being that it was almost a smaller version of the entire Banana Fish story, with the same structure of a unexceptional plot for most of the story with a startling ending.

   That startling ending for the story was of course the ostensibly random outburst to feet-watching and suicide by Seymour, which of course had me scrambling backwards seeing if I had missed some albatross of a detail. None were to be found however, which drastically changed my view on Salinger's short story style. With first ten pages of Banana Fish, the style seemed as humdrum as the plot, but with that finish, it seemed he enjoys more spice in his writing than I had expected.

Differences from Hemingway to O'Brien

    There was a lot of discussion about what seemed to have turned the class away from In Our Time (or at least reduced the fervor from The Things They Carried), and I have quite a few thoughts on the matter, along with other bits on our current readings.

     My biggest difference between the writings is the clearness of character personality. The vast majority of the time it seems O'Brien is simply telling us how characters feel. Characters would say or think exactly how they feel (loving to Martha for example), with deep inside looks on private thoughts (the rest of the Martha saga). There were long dialogues to reveal more character (almost the entirety of Church coming to mind), with a very on the ground, beside the speaker kind of feel to them.

     On the flip side, Hemingway seems to write from a very detached third person view. Basic details of settings or actions seem to form the core of the text, and dialogue is sparse with many subtleties. There's  often the unknown previous tensions we've discussed, which seem nonexistent in O'Brien. This pair of writing features combines to often leave me guessing on what's going underneath character exteriors. Another result of the dialogue style is seemingly drier characters. With only barebone details of what's happening, and short, tension-cut conversations (Cat in the Rain, Hills like White Elephants the poster children) make for less flattering, more flat portrayals.

    All of this can probably be negated by a more attentive and experienced reader. There's a reason Hemingway became a classic American author and it seems to be through more nuanced writing that critics and other complex readers enjoy more. My personal favorite story (or pair) was the final two. It provided a more focused view on a single character, which overcame some of the difficulties in style, and avoided some of the themes I appreciated less in previous chapters (the short stories about failed relationships being most notable).

Assorted thoughts on The Things They Carried

  Generally, The Things They Carried mixes in many stories, with multiple perspectives, varying topics, and a generally somber mood. The last part didn't appeal to me personally, but the other factors still combined to make a compelling read.

   Church was an especially interesting chapter for me. Although the story is still very much based in war, the content itself is about as far as can be. Previously, even with many emphasized battle scenes, the stories were still very much war focused (the things they carried for example, being primarily supplies for battle and survival). Church reveals post war ambitions (Dobbins' want to perhaps become a monk), childhood memories (Dobbins' thoughts on church from a young age through high school), and Kiowa's thoughts on the matter and other religious business. It provides a much more human look at the characters, eschewing their much more generic war banter for typical relatable chatter. Similarly, many of O'Brien's "look backs" (from his forty three year old self) also provide this outside look, that broadens the range of the book.

   In The Field shows the mental devastation a single death can cause. It's a common story to hear of single soldiers wracked by war guilt, but this story shows how such situations can come to be. Character after character takes blame for Kiowa's death (Lieutenant Cross for mispositioning, an unnamed other soldier, Norman Bowker previously). As each of these individuals spreads out after the war, it's easy to imagine how the first occurrence comes to be. It's gripping how these minor failures can cause each man to blame themselves so fully for such a tragic event.

   The Things They Carried seemed almost like a "during" version of Fire and Forget; same mood, same tempo, but with more wartime action as opposed to the postwar content of Fire and Forget. Both were far more serious subject matter than I had expected when reading the title of the course, but the somewhat lighter Fire and Forget was a good stepping stone for The Things They Carried.

The Post

   Sag ends much as it began. With Benji contemplating changes he could make to his life. They have similar ridiculous amounts of enthusiasm and hopes, but with this coming at the end, it's rather more satisfying.
 
  Benji has a ridiculous set of goals he rattles off one after the other on the last pages. Combat Boots because they're not against the Student Handbook (sounds about right). New jacket, new pants, that would have girls all over him at the rate of three a semester, six during spring. He has an actual excuse for having wider arms (suggesting he's gotten harassed for it before without such a comeback?). He'd gone through all the typical coming of age rituals, which understandably would make for bigger steps than any other summer. He mentions the all-too familiar realizing how dumb you were at previous ages. It all blends together to have by far the most obvious happy ending we've read this year ("It was going to be a great year. I was sure of it.")

  The next and last sentence does have interesting implications however ("Isn't it funny? The way the mind works?"). I took it as more of "I managed to convince myself that all these good things will happen to me", but I wouldn't bet a dime on that guess. Maybe its poking fun at the fact that its so similar to what he thought just a few months earlier. Perhaps most likely is that its something I've never considered, like a lot of ideas this semester. I do know that does at a bit of twist on an otherwise storybook finish (why do authors have to do this?).

Sag Harbor

   My impressions of Sag Harbor are much more distorted than usual for a book. Reading schedule's been knocked off with ap tests and lack of a schedule, but I seem to arrived at the same place as the rest of the class at least.

   Benji's expressed want to completely change over the summer is about as familiar as it gets. I remember thinking exactly such thoughts as soon as I had a summer break to change over. Inevitably my hopes would be unfulfilled, and that led me to believe similar results with Benji. I've also seen hundreds of other kids from spring to fall, and while I'd guess at least some of them having similar ideas, I've seen little difference. It's gotten to the point where I believe three months of school changes more than three months without. Or maybe because I enjoy staying home too much during the June, July, and August.

    Sag becomes almost completely foreign from there. Elite prep school background? No. Separate Summer home? I wish. Black with parents that lived through the Civil Rights Movement? Definitely not. I've also never had a summer job, and yet Benji's experiences don't feel entirely unfamiliar. It's as if I'm reading through some weird alternative paths I could've followed if I made a few different choices and a few different settings. It makes for very interesting reading, delving through what could've been.

   The book also provides a look and details into things I have, and may never do. A UTFO concert? For Benji, despite some the concert itself being somewhat mundane, it seems to provide an amazing release (seeing others dancing, coolly passing the bouncer) that lets him have an amazing time anyways. Benji also seems very uncomfortable with his misfit uncle (I don't see much of mine, misfit or not) Nelson. He's provides many somewhat neutral to negative descriptions of what he did in the past ("moving to California", and in the end, sees him as more of cautionary tale. Perhaps its because Benji has more trouble understanding him; he misjudges what Nelson would say to a beer request, and seems to have trouble thinking what to make of him in general. For me, it would've been more interesting to see what could be done with an uncle willing to buy the minors beer for just a ride.

Black Swan Green Conclusion

  Black Swan Green is my favorite book of the semester. And it's not close. It's the first book that's made me read beyond the reading assignments, and actively enjoy doing so. And with most of Sag Harbor read, it looks like it'll keep that title.

   I think the most important factor for me was how relatively modern the book was. Portrait and Catcher were stuck years back in stuffy prep schools, Bell Jar was out of the realm of anything I'd experienced, and Housekeeping starred drifting protagonists in the middle of nowhere. In contrast, Jason lived in a classic four person family (one which I also have), going to a 1980s public school. He doesn't have ridiculous artistic fantasies and visions by the beach, he doesn't rail against society, he doesn't struggle with depression or staying with a transient aunt; it all contributes to much more relatable character for a person who's spent all his years in calm and normal.

   I also can't miss how satisfying most of the second to last chapter was. For my happy ending loving self, I would've much preferred the book be cut off before Michael Taylor pulls back the curtains. As is however, Jason is able to bury many of his demons; he crushes Neal Brose and his cohorts, spends quality time with the sister, and gets a first kiss to boot, each further bringing up my rating hugely. I'd love to see a possible sequel, which could cover for a rather melancholy final chapter.

   For my previous prediction that Jason would change less than other comers-of-agers, I actually can't judge. What makes Jason's transformation any more or less objectively than any other? There's no easy scale, so I'll leave it as an unanswered.

Black Swan Green Beginnings

   Jason's one of the more fun protagonists I've come across this semester. To start, the setting of a seemingly normal village and household instantly is more recognizable than the 50's middle of nowhere beginnings we've had lately. He's also the youngest in the family four with an older sister, both things I can also say for myself. I'm also relatively close to his age at just two years off.

   Perhaps his most compelling trait is how truly young he is. He has a imaginative mindset more reminiscent of middle school, rather than the reality-interlocked psyches of Holden, Esther, Ruth, and Stephen. Beyond being a simple change of pace, the book brings back memories of a more relaxed portion of life.

   With that younger mentality, I find it likely we'll also find a different coming-of-age compared to previous novels. Jason's only thirteen, and with only thirteen months to go he's certainly not going to end the book with much different of a place in society. A lifestyle or living condition change seems to be the most likely options now.

   None of the other books were able to quite put it all together for me, but with that once again breathable-style, and new and improved characters and setting, Black Swan Green looks to take the cake.

Housekeeping

    It was asked in class whether Ruth truly came of age. With a definition of coming of age as "finding one's place in society", it would seem that she didn't; living on the outskirts, ostensibly out of mainstream society, clearly doesn't fit. I would argue however, not that Ruth really did find a place within society, but rather for a different definition of coming of age that does have Ruth fulfilling its requirements.

   This definition simply entails the adolescent becoming more or less what they will be like an adult. It's a very basic definition that says that anyone who lives to adulthood, comes of age. And that's what I think coming of age is, really. Nothing to do with maturity, or place in society, or even a certain age. When the person has a mindset or lifestyle relatively close to the adult versions, they've come of age to me. Those who become immature, unemployed, assholes have reached adulthood just as much as cultured, successful, well-rounded people.

  Ruth has adopted a transience, that she will presumably maintain for the rest of her life. That being the case, she did come of age, taking up that lifestyle at the end of the novel. Her younger sister (supposedly), Holden, Esther, and Stephen all took up more traditional societal roles at the end of their respective stories, but again, how normal the ending is has no bearing in my definition.

  It's a refreshing change of pace with such a different ending. I doubt I would be able to happily live such a final life (as many would probably agree), but I feel those who do are just as crucial to society. They provide the interesting edges, the characteristics to prevent people from seemingly all blending into one.

 

Phoebe

Throughout the novel, Holden builds up three individuals, lavishing them with praise and high characterizations. We meet only one of them however, with Jane never appearing and Allie out of the question, in the later book's interaction with Phoebe.

      

With liberal use of his basically trademark “kills me”, Holden absolutely plays Phoebe up to the highest extent before we can even meet her, complimenting her intelligence, looks, and perceptiveness. An especially Holden-esque kudos is to her ability to call a spade a spade: " If you take her to a lousy movie, for instance, she knows it’s a lousy movie. If you take her to a pretty good movie, she knows it’s a pretty good movie". I think such awe of Phoebe could partially be attributed to simply sibling appreciation however. Holden thought only the highest of D.B. and Allie as well, and although that admiration for the former fell as D.B. headed to Hollywood, the other two siblings were never old enough to pull something like that to drop in Holden's eyes.

     

Looking into the interaction in chapters twenty one through twenty three, I can't say I enjoyed Phoebe as much. Her expression was very much like Holden's, only instead of machine-gunning thoughts, she was a torrent of speech. And while I mostly enjoyed Holden as a narrator, as a person (which I described in another post), I wasn't quite as moved. Phoebe's generosity with Christmas money was touching and pretty ridiculous to read, but something turns me off about kids that are simply "too-good" for their age (possibly because of my mother pointing them out too often).

     

Altogether, it's clear that those enjoyed Holden would enjoy Phoebe, not just because how highly Holden regards her, but because of their similarities in person (which I think contributes to the first part). It's too bad that combination also helped turn me off of each of them as well.

Voice

     The narrative voice of Catcher is probably one of the most covered topics on blogs, and I'll continue that, with an extra bit on my thoughts on Holden as a person.
 
     It's something I've said over and over: I can't stand most assigned english books. They're slow with way too many minor details. They're loaded with minor events and insignificant observations. And they're stuffed top to bottom with obscure allusions and vague implications. Altogether it makes for an awful experience, even beyond the tedious plots they usually have.
   
     And surprise surprise, Catcher was different. Holden greets you immediately with a personable tone that reads extremely easily. He provides a constant stream of dialogue and his thoughts, but all expressed without excessively complicated vocabulary and sentence structure. He does provide plenty of minor details, but again, the text is readable so I get through it faster. Even with plenty of failures (specific to me), simply by virtue of having this style, this book takes major points in my book.

    But of course, there are failures, and they lie with Holden himself. Holden just reeks of incredible teenage issues throughout the book, often times with a "world is against me" feeling. He seems to be overly affected by surrounding events, being depressed the hell out of seemingly every other sentence. There's a clear split between those Holden interacts with, with those he respects almost incapable of doing wrong (even Phoebe annoying him by being too snotty was turned into a positive), while others are blown off. At risk of sounding like some cliche movie producers I hate, that's simply too black and a white of a view.

   Despite it's uneven performance on my scale, I expect Catcher to be my favorite reading of this semester. It's style is so rare that it's unlikely to be seen again, which is for me an almost irreparable blow.

General

   The Bell Jar followed the Catcher tradition of being a mixed bag. It had the same much appreciated readable style and a somewhat pleasing conclusion, but dropped off heavily in terms of likeability of the protagonist and general plot.

   The ending, like the novel, had it's merits and failures. I hate ambiguous finishes (writers should tell me exactly what happens and why), which this absolutely was. I'm a sucker for happy endings however, and while it was certainly vague how well Esther lived after the conclusion, it had a somewhat positive tone.

   Esther simply wasn't the most pleasant main character, an opinion I think is probably shared by many. It's incredibly difficult to relate to a depressed person if one is among those never experienced the condition, and I'm lucky enough to be one of them. It's not so fortunate when I try to interpret her behavior, and a lot of her actions seem just inexplicably mean (the birthday flowers being the most prominent. I'm sure it could resonate with a different reader; it just wasn't for me.

    My final strike against the book was its plot. From an outside perspective, not much really happened. "A college student went to a psychiatric ward and recovered" would be an apt, albeit barebones description of what happened. And the characters, who would generally fill in the gaps, simply weren't compelling enough to accomplish that this time.

   Although Bell Jar is never going to be my choice to freely read, I can certainly see its niche, a category that could easily expand to even those who have never been depressed with other positive aspects. The never-made sequel, with its supposedly brighter view, would've probably been a much better fit.

Coming of Age to me

I can't say I fully agree with many of my classmates opinions on coming of age. It's true I can't point out specific events where I was like "Wow, I got a lot older there", but I also haven't reached many of the traditional milestones yet (driver's license, voting or drinking ages). Perhaps more importantly, I actually do feel appreciably older, even compared to just months ago. It's an all too common occurrence where I realize my current self would've handled a previous situation so much better, and my future self even more so. On a larger scale of time, the differences in how I think everyday create even older views of myself.

When I was eight years old, all I cared for were new Nerf Guns, LeBron James, and various novels. While my love of sports hasn't died, the other two have been squarely replaced by common teenage boy concerns of college and girls. My younger concerns about getting new darts are laughable compared to present difficulties, and it's not hard to imagine an older me doing the same. And for the first point on specific times, I can pretty much pinpoint where some of these changes took place. Middle school began girls. High school sadly pretty much cut out much of the reading for fun. Junior year was college.

As I hit the traditional milestones I can see similar changes taking place. Instead of worrying about when I get picked up, I wonder where my car is. Soda purchases change to beer buys, although my stance on worth of voting will probably remain intact for at least three years. All progressing to an older life.    

How Portrait's Style Develops as Stephen Ages

Portrait opens with a rather basic style, forgoing the dense and complex prose seemingly ever-present in books for english class, in favor of bits like "moocow". It also includes many basic observations without further thought, such as noting the relative ages of Stephen's relatives, all apparently included to demonstrate his youthfulness. As a result, not much of value is actually learned about Stephen's early years. The plot progresses to an older Stephen at school. The language is more developed with fuller descriptions of those that he interacts with, but still has a very young schoolboyish-feel, as Stephen acts almost awed at his rugby-playing classmates. The next few sections continue this style, including an absolutely bewildered Stephen at Christmas dinner.  

The next major change in style coincides with Stephen’s first escapades with prostitutes. After his first encounter, which he describes with a very innocent, removed style and makes the event seem like almost an accident, Stephen becomes extremely comfortable with his outings and other sins. He daydreams of stuffing himself with stew, and is straightforward describing his plans for the night. No more are the euphemisms for prostitutes and events and in their place is blunt language (actual use of whore) and an almost pride at what is occurring.

Finally comes Father Arnall’s sermon. Extremely graphic and specific language is used, probably to emphasize the event and why Stephen was so affected. The terrifying wording causes him to have a major turning point, and for a period turns Stephen to a basically priestly lifestyle.

Also worth noting is the similar shifts in style between the end of chapters and the beginning of the next. Almost always chapters end with a somewhat successful feel, caused by such events as Stephen’s triumph and celebration at the end of chapter one. They include more airy and nature-y language, often describing the environment with delicate adjectives. On the other hand, the beginnings are very down-to-earth, for example, following the celebration was a very direct description of Uncle Charles’ tobacco habits.

Separating Old Posts from Coming of Age Ones