Do I like Stephen Dedalus?

So a common idea asked in class is whether I, the reader, like the character of Stephen Dedalus. This is a hard question to answer, probably mostly because it involves associating myself with Stephen who others may potentially see as a unlikable character. He certainly does a good job alienating readers with his self absorbed thoughts and very removed nature from his peers. Perhaps I find it difficult to dislike Stephen too much since I see some of myself in Stephen (although it may also be part of why I dislike some of his characteristics). I must say when I was in my early teens I certainly felt that it really made me the cool kid to seem as though I were somehow detached from everyone. Maybe I still have that delusion and just don't realize it. As far as I know I've shaken that particularly ailment. Back to Stephen, however, I must say I can sympathize with a lot of his issues, and I actually like him as a character, but there are certainly some qualities about him I find objectionable.

Chief among my dislikes for Stephen would be his indifference to his family, especially after everything his father has done for him school wise. The more interesting point, however, might be that I feel a certain resentment for Stephen due to his facade of maturity. The reason I say that this might be more interesting is because I feel that it's the point that makes me out as more hypocritical. When I was a younger teenager I certainly wanted desperately to believe that I was the most mature kid on the block. The idea that I might not actually be quite so mature as I thought I was never even occurred to me. As far as I was concerned the best way to be cool was to appear as though I were apart from others. Honestly I don't think I even considered the idea that people might see me as someone who thought they were better them. All this considered I still can't help but feel a good deal of scorn and contempt for Stephen. Interestingly enough I think perhaps the reason I feel such contempt for him is the same reason Joyce writes about him ironically. In the illusion of maturity that Stephen Dedalus puts on I see a good deal of my (hopefully) past self, and as a result I feel a certain need to scorn Stephen.

The irony in me

After reading Mr. Mitchell's most recent blog post I was struck by a general questioning of the Coming Of Age novel as a genre. Clearly there is a notable degree of irony in James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and this is important as we learn ourselves to understand that Joyce is in part making fun of who he use to be. I can certainly sympathize here, I'm not fan of who I was four years ago, and quite honestly I probably will be ashamed of who I am today in another four years. Quite frankly it makes me remarkably uncomfortable to talk about my past self in any manner that doesn't shed some kind of ironic light on me. If I want to describe who I was at the age of thirteen, it's certainly not going to focus on the kid who got good grades, and was a fairly good musician. The focus of any story I tell about myself is certainly going to involve a good deal of making fun of who I used to be. What I would be telling you would be more along the lines of "that one kid who didn't shower often enough, thought it was so cool to appear depressed, and listened to Disturbed because it made him feel so in touch with his anger". I don't approve of who I used to be and I have to add in irony to any story I tell about myself simply to make myself comfortable with telling the story.

What I wonder is whether the introduction of irony into a Coming Of Age Novel is something that is simply vital to the genre or whether this is something that everyone feels like they have to put into any story about themselves in order to distance themselves from that person they used to be. The general consensus seems to be that no body wants to identify as their old selves in fact. Everyone--myself included--wants to get as far away from who they used to be as possible. It's simply not seen as socially acceptable for someone to seem as though they like who they were in their adolescence. If I were to tell you, the reader, that last year I was a much more mature and stable individual than I am now, and I achieved some pretty impressive things you'd scoff at me. I'd scoff at me to. But is this sense of distancing one's self from their adolescence simply part of who any supposedly matured individual is? It seems strange to think of a supposed genius like James Joyce introducing irony as a method simply to distance himself from his teenager James Joyce. That said if I were he and telling a story of my life I would certainly feel obliged to make fun of my past self. I suppose my end question is this: Is irony and self-mocking in stories we tell about ourselves something that is simply part of who we are, or is it something that every writer puts into his story in order to convince readers (themselves included) that they don't still think they're so great?

Stephen the Lover

The love life of Stephen Dedalus throughout the novel is an uncharacteristic one, certainly by our modern day expectations of love and sexual relationships. Stephen from a very early age develops certain parts of his more intimate emotions much more quickly than others -- that is to say some of his emotions develop to levels considered possibly more advanced, whereas others seem to advance at a much more slower rate. For instance Stephen's sexual desire and experience throughout the novel manifests itself very early on, and immediately is at a much higher level than is expected for a boy of Stephen's age. To put it bluntly Stephen engages in his first sexual act somewhere around the age of thirteen and it isn't a one time thing. Apart from Stephen's physical lust we see much less of a quickened maturing concerning his actual development of emotional relationships as part of love. Stephen certainly doesn't seem as matured throughout the novel concerning how he develops his love interests as he does concerning how much he acts upon his sexual desires. In regards to this relating back to Stephen as a character in the novel it seems to me that this fits into the idea that Stephen is much more comfortable living in the fantasy of an idea as opposed to dealing with the difficulty of the reality.

For Stephen the idea of sexual activity becomes very much an embodiment with his obsession with sin as part of his fantasy. Stephen likes to imagine himself as being part of these dark  brooding fantasies where we the reader, someone who is inside Stephen's head at all times, can simultaneously see how Stephen pictures himself, but we can also see the reality of what is actually going on. Perhaps it's not at all surprising to see the main character in this novel doing this though -- a way to view art would be to see it is as taking something very mundane and blowing it up into something very dramatic. The way this manifests itself with his sexual activity is related to how it ties in to his obsession with sin. Stephen loves to think of himself as one bad dude.

For instance at the beginning of chapter three visits to the brothels have become a very regular thing for Stephen. He doesn't picture it as the serene magical event that he originally pictured it as -- another instance in which he turns mundane reality into art-- but instead he seems to have developed a certain regularity to his visits. He has a method and a routine; "He would pass by them calmly waiting for a sudden movement of his own will or a sudden call to his sinloving soul from their soft perfumed flesh" (109). Stephen does not think of it as "I'm gonna go to the brothel and pay someone to have sex with me". He has to think of himself as much more dark than that -- as he puts it he's "sinloving" and they have "soft-perfumed skin". As far as Stephen is concerned he's a bad ass sinner and he's going off to have intimate experiences with these seemingly magical women. He doesn't want to see himself as having sex with someone he pays for it, he's much safer in his fantasy of him as the experienced and darkened sinner.

Later in the novel this same sort of thing manifests itself with the performance he puts on for his one true love, Emma. Even late in the novel when he's attending university Stephen still doesn't seem to be able to form a healthy relationship with this girl he's been in love with for almost a decade. From very early on Stephen proves that he doesn't want to have a functioning relationship with her, at least not one that she knows about.  In his very first reaction with her Stephen feels anxiety about whether or not he should make a move on her. That early in the book I'm certainly sympathetic to him, many 13 year old males have this same kind of apprehension. At that point instead of actually trying to make something happen with her, he goes home and writes a poem about what he dreams it would have been like to kiss and be united with her. What we see, however, is that this continues throughout the duration of the novel. Stephen, bluntly put, would rather live in a fantasy world where he writes poetry about he and she kissing than actually make any effort to see it come in to reality. This is an idea we see recurring throughout the novel, not just in Stephen's love life. Stephen wants to make his life art in the form of fantasy, rather than actually live in his reality.