Dorothy Richardson began working on what became Pointed Roofs -- the first of what would eventually be the thirteen volumes of her Pilgrimage -- in 1911. James Joyce was still struggling to find a publisher for Dubliners, and was at work on revising his early novel Stephen Hero into Portrait of the Artist as A Young Man, which would not appear until 1914; his Ulysses -- which many assume to have been the first novel to make use of "stream of consciousness" -- came out in 1922, by which time Richardson was on her sixth volume. The very term was coined by May Sinclair, in her review of Richardson's novels, which appeared in The Egoist in 1918. And yet today, when it comes up, it's nearly always associated with Joyce.
Two other writers, of course, inevitably come to mind when we consider these streams -- Joyce's Ulysses and Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse. Ulysses still looms largest, in part because Joyce had, by the time it appeared, been a sort of one-man-band of its forthcoming. It first appeared in parts in The Little Review in its March 1918 issue, with the full novel following on Joyce's birthday in 1922. There were all sorts of issues with the text, not the least of which was Joyce's habit of penning in many corrections per page on the proofs, and the fact that the French printers charged with its publication spoke almost no English! All that said, its impact has been profound and lasting; have a look at part I ("Telemachus) and the final part, "Penelope," narrated in the most fluid version of consciousness's stream by Leopold Bloom's wife.
Woolf's To the Lighthouse (1927) is no less a monument to the power of language to find unexpected ways to frame time and space; like the arrival of Godot some years later, the trip to the lighthouse is almost indefinitely postponed; one of the novel's key challenges is the second "Time Passes" section, which must set its gossamers across the chasm of a decade, one in which the entire First World War begins and ends. Have a look at the beginning, and feel free to dip in here and there; you'll see that Woolf's version of stream-of-consciousness is its own very distinct thing, neither Richardson's nor Joyce's.
From my understanding of my first read of James Joyce’s introduction to “Ulysses,” Milligan and Stephen are Irish medical students abroad in England. While they are colleagues the way I view Milligan is he is Stephen’s upper classmate though their relationship suggests they have known each other before in the past. As Milligan had mentioned to Stephen that: “the aunt thinks you killed your mother … That’s why she won’t let me have anything to do with you” (5). Though Stephen’s mother was sick and the way he “killed” her was because he didn’t fulfill her wish:
ReplyDeleteYou could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked you … But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you.... (5)
What Mulligan said shows they may have known each other before the story begins, it also provides a subtle divide. How Mulligan does not approve of Stephen's actions of ignoring his mother’s wishes on her deathbed, yet Mulligan’s response during that time caused Stephen to hold a grudge. Stephen reminds Mulligan about the time when he visited his house after his mother’s death and about the rude comment he had made about it. “‘You said’, Stephen answered, ‘O, it’s only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead’” (8). While Mulligan meant no offense, he fails to see how his response was abrupt because of how often he is used to witnessing people die or being around the deceased as a medical student during the time the book was written in 1918.
You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tribes in the dissecting room. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else. It simply doesn’t matter. (8)
Overall, I found this part of the chapter to be most interesting, as there are two responses to death: that of a loved one and a view from the “outside.” While Mulligan doesn’t know Stephen’s mother, he poorly reacts to the situation with an inappropriate response because he is used to death constantly around him, becoming desensitized due to his studies. Stephen takes offense to Mulligan as he had just lost his mother, and that someone he is acquainted with responds in such a way. It causes him to hold on to this grudge and remember it well while Mulligan can’t even remember what happened. I think with the conversation of the loss of Stephen’s mother gives the reader a good introduction to both characters and to see what kind of people they are set up to be within the story.
Agustin Custer
A great comment, Gus. And yes, from what one can tell from that first chapter, these are reasonably good inferences. The thing with Ulysses, though, is that its readers are meant to "know" certain things outside the narrative, such as that Stephen Dedalus is Joyce's alter ego, that Buck Mulligan is based on Oliver St. John Gogarty, and that the scene takes place in a "Martello Tower" not far from Dublin (now of course a place of Joycean pilgrimage). There's an online guide that may be of some help -- I'll add a link on the sidebar.
DeleteIn “To the Lighthouse” by Virginia Woolf, immediately we can see that subjective experience and perspective are key elements of Woolf’s novel. Mr. Ramsay sees the world very differently from his wife. However, the two are not so different as they may first appear. For instance, Mr. Ramsay seems to embody the male, patriarchal, linear, and teleological view of the world which nineteenth-century novels had often adopted (where we find out who the murderer was, the man and woman get together, and all loose ends are satisfactorily tied up by the final page): he sees ‘thought’ as something to be understood in a linear fashion, like working through the alphabet from A to Z. He also spends part of the early section of the novel reciting Tennyson’s ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’, which is revealing because this is a Victorian poem by the pre-eminent Victorian poet, but also because it is a poem about the action of charging, moving forward, attacking, progressing. However, it is also ironic, because the ‘charge’ memorialized in Tennyson’s poem was a futile and self-destructive military action which resulted in the deaths of hundreds of men: the light brigade charged to their deaths. But the linear, progressive, masculine quality of Mr. Ramsay’s reference to this poem is also undermined by the fact that he is constantly repeating the same phrase (tellingly, ‘Someone had blundered’), and is thus caught in a cyclical world of repetition and return which is at odds with the linearity he ostensibly embodies. Mr. Ramsay’s best work also appears to be behind him, and he seems doomed to repeat the same ideas in his later work. He is caught in an ideology of teleological development but cannot develop to any precise ‘end’. Similarly, Mrs. Ramsay’s narrative may embody more ‘feminine’ qualities, with its emphasis on cycles, return, nurturing, and selflessness, but these same qualities also point up her complicity in the Victorian patriarchy embraced by her husband: she is a traditionalist who believes women should be married, wives should serve their husbands, and unmarried men and women should not stay out too late together. In other words, those looking for a clear distinction where Mr. Ramsay = linearity and progress and Mrs. Ramsay = cycles and returning are sure to be disappointed.
ReplyDeleteI love stream of consciousness writing and what it has become in the modern day-- it is often how I write. I really enjoy how it allows the reader to get a feel for the narrator and their surroundings through their eyes. In "Telemachus," there is a moment where Stephen is looking in a mirror and notices that this is "as he and others see me." This moment is that cognizant point where Stephen is realizing how the world sees him, and we are able to see it from his point of view.
ReplyDeleteLike Agustin mentioned, the portrayal of death in this introduction is also seen from different perspectives. Later on in the story, when talking about an Irish funeral, we also get to hear thoughts on death in regards to the afterlife.
"The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last day! Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the rest of his traps."
This is a 'harsher' look on death than most, but it also stems from the lack of belief in the religion that the others are talking about. They are obviously knowledgeable in the faith (knowing about Lazarus rising from the dead), but see the body as a body. As medical students, they see the body for what it is-- pieces of a whole that can not go on forever. Eventually the heart gives out, the organs rot away, and nothing is left but the skeleton of the person. Even when talking about the coffin, "When you think of them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through." Being a stream of consciousness piece allows us to view these thoughts and hear the statements without much (if any) editing and to hear the thoughts and opinions of others as well.
I agree with May Sinclair in the beginning of her review of Dorothy Richardson’s novels. Criticism needs to grow and adapt along with the literature it is critiquing. For one of my other English courses this semester, I had written an essay on the Formalist movement, both Russian Formalism and American New Criticism. While most of each movement could be interwoven into one coherent way of analyzing literature, both had different main focuses. Of course, neither are perfect, even when combined, but the important part was people having new discussions on how best to critique a piece. While the old binaries “between idealism and realism, [and] between subjective and objective” had been useful and essential in critiquing previous works, the new writers of the day were cooking up fresh hybrids(Sinclair 57). It would only be natural for the critics to adapt with a hybrid of their own.
ReplyDelete- Spock Nardone
I can say I piggyback this comment as well. As new publishers come up with different styles of writing and how they portray the characters in their writing, it's almost not even fair for their work to be critized based on guidelines from the past. Not that all values must be left behind; I don't want to paint this as my point either. But rather than looking at things with eyes from the world we live in today, maybe?! and how as a society we hold different writing styles and interest from lets say even 15 years back.
DeleteNone of the readings were really what I was expecting. Ulysses has such an infamous reputation that I was expecting it to be borderline unreadable, and for the whole book to be similar in style to the Penelope section but with even more intrusively digressive thoughts. The fact that there was punctuation at all was a great surprise to me.
ReplyDeletePointed Roofs was interesting because it does not really resemble anything the contemporary reader, or at least myself, would call stream of consciousness. If I did not know better I might have called it simply a “focused narrative” or a very limited third-person narration. This was especially subversive because before reading the text I had read the original introduction by Mr. J. D. Beresford, and he spoke as though it was incredibly experimental and perhaps even difficult to reconcile with existing notions of literature. While I am sure this is anachronistically true, and I certainly don’t mean to question the extremity of Beresford’s struggle, I was not expecting time to have dulled its cutting edge quite as much as it has.
To the Lighthouse was definitely the most enjoyable read in terms of surface level engagement. It read easier than Ulysses, but seems more deliberate than Pointed Roofs, though I might very well change my mind if I ever finished them. I just found myself not really learning or thinking much of the first section—she has friends who are almost distinctive enough for me to remember their names, the prose is fine enough, but I just didn’t really get much out of it, nor do it leave me with terribly much to say. I think I have to get to know Miriam and her situation a little better to say anything of value about it.
“To the Lighthouse '' by Virginia Woolf is a compelling story that demonstrates the modality of stream of consciousness writing that makes the reader feel as though they are in the character’s thoughts themselves. Most writing is very descriptive in nature, yes, but is often lacking the personal connection between character and reader. Woolf has the ability to make the reader feel what the character is feeling. An example that was particularly gut-wrenching in the very beginning of the story was when James, the son, wanted to go to the lighthouse the following morning. His mother - Mrs. Ramsey - says okay, but his father - Mr. Ramsey puts the brakes on it, and seemingly says no for no apparent reason. James is filled with rage and a stream of consciousness begins: “[H]ad there been an axe handy, a poker, or any weapon that would have gashed a hole in his father's breast and killed him, there and then, James would
ReplyDeletehave seized it. Such were the extremes of emotion that Mr. Ramsay excited in his children's breasts by his mere presence; standing, as now, lean asa knife, narrow as the blade of one, grinning sarcastically, not only with the pleasure of disillusioning his son and casting ridicule upon his wife, who was ten thousand times better in every way than he was
(James thought), but also with some secret conceit at his own accuracy of judgment” (Woolf). This is quite extreme, and one would think maybe far too intense for someone’s actual thoughts, but that’s because we are not conditioned to truth. A lot of the stories we read are so fantastical, so theatric, and full of virtue-signaling, that we forget people are imperfect creatures. Disney is a great example of the unreasonable decorum of women and men and making it seem like no one ever has a bad or judgy thought. Stream of consciousness stories are such a breath of fresh air and make the reading experience one that is more thoughtful, surprising, and meaningful.
Jess Panichas
I found myself drawn to the initial post on the blog pointing out that stream of consciousness literature is an idea that is more widely supported in men than women. Women are shunned and shut down for having ideas that they wish to discuss, potentially at length. The very notion of a “stream of consciousness” or an “internal monologue” is to take into consideration that something is always going on in the mind. Naturally, this is something that occurs regardless of gender. What does it say that they untampered thoughts of men are more widely received than those of women?
ReplyDeleteI have multiple people—men, specifically—who have mentioned that they do not enjoy female writers, typically because they do not feel they can connect with the author. However, women are expected to yield to the untampered thoughts of men on the daily. Male authors are constantly favored in academic settings. As a woman, I do not necessarily find these authors to be relatable and yet I read and work to understand them every time. This post is a little rambled, but I do find the idea of sexism in stream of consciousness to be of interest.