V.

DUBLINERS: INSTANCES OF ALIENATION

James Joyce’s “Dubliners” is a collection of fifteen short stories, first published in 1914.
These stories portray the middle class everyday life in and around Dublin, the Dublin of the early
20th Century. This chapter is an examination of three stories, “The Dead”, “Araby”, and “A
Painful Case,” which depict different instances of alienation. They create a triad of alienation and
idealization of individuals with similar desires, reacting to hardships at differing stages of life.
“A Painful Case” and “Araby” exhibit a progression towards isolation and paralysis: “Araby”
presents an isolated, highly introspective boy, who creates an entire idealized mental construct of
his perfect world, stuck in the shackles of his own abstract desires and skewed sense of reality.
His wry perception of the world is highlighted at the end of the story, when is quest for romantic
love fails and shines his impractical idealism. “A Painful Case” however, showcases the life
crisis of Duffy, a hermit, a self-imposed outcast of Irish society, seeking to escape from his
emotional and mental. “The Dead”, in contrast, tries to give the reader a partial solution, marking
a reversal of the trend. This short story displays the same fragile, alienated, idealist type of
character, Gabriel Conroy, but here, the difference lies in the fact that he treads a different path,
although with only limited success, as he takes a sort of satisfaction from his ability to distance
himself from his own internal turmoil and obtain a certain connection to the outside world. By
the end of the story we see a character that renounces his own delusional, idealized mental state
and instead attempts to take into consideration the desires of the others around him, such as the
ones of his wife, Gretta Conroy.

V.1 Araby

“Araby” introduces the protagonist, the boy, a boy whose innocence and naivety creates a
false matrix of the world; Henceforth, I will try to showcase his skewed sense of reality, his
juvenile type of alienation: his innocence is manifested through is unfiltered representation of
reality.
The boy’s sort of receptive purity plays a key factor to the character’s development,
which leads to his self-revelatory epiphany by the end of the story. By failing his self-imposed
quest for Mangan’s sister, the boy becomes self-aware of his shortcomings, he introspects and
realizes his absurd take on the world.
In my opinion, Joyce deftly manages to depict the boy’s state of insulation by making
him a witness of North Richmond Street: “the street is blind and largely quiet apart from when
the school is released” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.20). To add to his isolation, the boy also
enjoys spending his time in a deserted house, a house full of decay, while other houses are made
cheerful and sociable. The house is not only in an abandoned state, but the final tenant died in the
backroom. Still, the boy finds the house to being quite fascinating, almost having a romantic
tinge to it. He is fascinated by the rust and used and torn books he finds within it. The boy seems
to regard these objects with wonder and fascination, those things which would normally be
thought to represent loss and death. At the same time, the boy’s affinity for the house
foreshadows his downfall, his sickening obsessions.
After establishing the boy’s affinity for the deserted house, Joyce describes the boy as
being to some degree sociable, involved in the normal activities a child would undertake with
other children, yet the only friendly name he ever mentions is Mangan and nothing substantial is
revealed about him. Mangan is only worthy of mentioning because he has a sister, Mangan’s
sister, the boy’s infatuation. This highlights his limited and odd childlike perspective.
The boy’s peculiar reference to his beloved as Mangan’s sister unveils his apparent
alienation. The reader is never allowed to know the name, because he is so totally absorbed in his
obsession that it never even occurs that he should present a more complete picture of the girl. Jim
LeBlanc notes “in his quest the boy displays a grimly purposeful attitude towards an event, the
bazaar, that most would consider play rather than work” (Jim LeBlanc, All Work, No Play: The
Refusal of Freedom in Araby, p.229). This compulsive seriousness is a micro representation of
his entire worldview, and like his adult counterparts, the boy is displays a surprising adult
approach, akin to his adult counterparts, reflective, utterly serious-minded and quite humorless.
Although, his actions are still childlike: roaming in the streets, exploring abandoned houses, and
obsessing over his young friend’s sister.
I consider the boy’s infatuation for Mangan’s sister particularly shallow, because he is
desiring her without knowing any of her personality traits or character. The boy instead creates
an illusory, aggrandizing mental image of Mangan’s sister. He particularly focuses on her brown
hair, how it was “tossed from side to side” and repeatedly reduces her to a simple “brown
figure” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.21). Also “the light from the lamp opposite our door caught
the white curve of her neck, lit up the hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the
railing” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.23). For the boy, Mangan’s sister represents the epitome of
the angelic figure, one who does not act in any practical sense, but mystically projects the boy’s
desires outward towards him. He suffices to simply gaze at her perceived radiance. The boy’s
euphoria is eventually interrupted, and he comes into his senses when Mangan’s sister strikes a
short conversation with him. This represents the boy’s first disillusionment: “I did not know
whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused
adoration” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.22). It is she who approaches the boy for a brief chat
regarding the upcoming bazaar that she wishes to attend, but cannot. Despite being a simple,
natural interaction, the boy is still deeply stuck in his altered mental state: “At last she spoke to
me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to
answer” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.22). Even the first moments of bewilderment, the boy
continues to distance himself from reality and still aggrandizes the girl. By means of this short
conversation, the boy’s narrative gives equal emphasis to her angelic appearance as to the actual
content of the dialogue, and he often recounts what Mangan’s sister said second hand, rather than
merely quoting her: “She asked me was I going to Araby . . . She could not go, she said, because
there would be a retreat that week in her convent” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.22). An important
detail is slipped through when the boy quotes the girl’s apparent final remark, “It’s well for
you”, which highlights the fact that the boy is fortunate in having the opportunity to attend the
bazaar, with the boy giving special emphasis to the rare element of the conversation that is more
personal, that is referring to the connection between the boy and Mangan’s sister. The boy ends
the conversation by saying: “If I go . . . I will bring you something” (James Joyce, Dubliners,
p.23).
Although the boy’s initial, aggrandized view of Mangan’s sister has been slightly warped,
as he partly realizes she is only “human”, he also immediately misinterprets the facts and creates
a new quest, a new fantasy which is a perfect fit to his matrix of reality. In my opinion, this
oblivious attitude is highlighting the boy’s impossibility to comprehend or even take part in
social roles. As a telltale element of the chapter’s title which I am aiming to showcase in this
paper, the conversation with Mangan’s sister, a merely small talk affair, serving no more purpose
for the girl than to express her disappointment at not being able to attend the bazaar, acts as the
catalyst for the boy’s delusive alienation: he concludes to calling and transforming the mundane
chit chat into a definitive quest.
The boy’s destination to disillusionment begins to become quite obvious, as the story
early comes to an end. As the bazaar approaches, the boy’s obsessive tendencies begin to take
effect on his daily life even further: “I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had
hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now, that it stood between me and my
desire, seemed to me child’s play, ugly monotonous child’s play” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.23).
The boy’s strange wording suggests a forced maturity, because the boy is still a child. In my
opinion, the boy’s end quest represents his attempt of maturation, a makeshift coming of age
story, albeit a forced one. He comes to resemble Duffy and Gabriel, in his attempts to create a
false depiction of the world, although the boy is unaware of the difficulties that will confront
him.
The boy’s bazaar quest sees him finally getting a grip on reality, demolishing his
delusional reality through the epiphany that the quest was just nonsense, thus Mangan’s sister
herself evidently is no longer the main pawn for the boy’s devastation, as he has seen that he was
just responding to his own desires and obsessions the whole time.
Finally, I think the story highlights the harsh realities of Dublin life, as even its youth is
subjected to hardships which lead to alienation of the young individual.

V.2 A Painful Case

“A Painful Case” represents the tale of an inflexible, middle-aged man, James Duffy.
“Araby” and “A Painful Case” share striking similarities when it comes to the psychological
elements of their main protagonists: the boy realizes the impossibility of the idealized love and
social interaction, while Duffy fails to bend reality to his will, resorting to self-exile. Duffy is not
only antisocial, but extremely self-conscious his final conclusion being that his approach to life
is totally false and cannot be sustained: although in his attempts to think of himself as superior to
and separate from Mrs. Sinico, he cannot deny his attachment, because ultimately, he is a part of
society and only a human.
 Duffy’s life consists of a precise and rigid set of daily routines. Like the boy before him,
Duffy creates a world of his own, projecting his traits out onto the physical world. Duffy’s
apartment mirrors his inner life in much the way that the dead priest’s home reflects the boy’s,
though in Duffy’s case, his self-isolation has been self-imposed. The severely unimaginative
nature of Duffy’s apartment, however, does not suggest that Duffy is any less self-absorbed than
the boy, in fact this kind of refusal to allow any external influence suggests a profound
narcissism.
Joyce highlights Duffy’s distant nature, which by the end proves to be his Achilles heel:
“He lived a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side glances. He
had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time short
sentences about himself in the past tense. He never gave alms to beggars and walked firmly
carrying a stout hazel” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.90). This creates stark opposition between the
boy and Duffy: while the boy’s world was filled of childish romance and fantasy, Duffy’s life is
deliberately and absolutely lacking any form of emotion or imagination. I believe that, this
however, represents a far more deluded and fantasy like reality than that of the boy. While the
boy makes his own meanings regarding the external world, Duffy instead adopts a pure nihilistic
attitude, as he doesn’t give meaning to nothing.
As with his physical appearance, Duffy’s actions pinpoint a total withdrawnness, though
he is occasionally fond of concerts and music. The indifference of Duffy’s actions, however, is
astonishing, and through this routine is Duffy’s single-mindedness revealed. Benjamin Boysen
notes that: “His life is discretely organised around solitude and he has in this manner systemised
his exile from his fellow human beings by giving his existence a static and routine order”
(Benjamin Boysen, The Self and the Other, p.396). This is, in my opinion a trademark
representation of Duffy’s pure intellectualism. His life must always be efficient and orderly.
Joyce highlights his socially avoidant tendencies, also: “He had neither companions, nor
friends, church, nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting
his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when they died. He performed
these two social duties for old dignity’s sake but conceded nothing further to the conventions that
regulate civil life. He allowed himself to think that in certain circumstances he would rob his
bank but as these circumstances never arose his life rolled by evenly—an adventureless tale.”
(James Joyce, Dubliners, p.91)
 Duffy does not, however, rise above society or create his own narrative, but merely hides
from humanity.
As with the boy, Duffy’s life is changed by the arrival of a romantic interest. Duffy’s
relationship with Sinico begins innocuously, with simple conversations at the Rotunda extending
into an acquaintanceship that moves to other meetings in public venues. When he finds out about
Mrs.Sinico’s daughter and husband, he rapidly dismissed those variables to pursue the woman
“Little by little he entangled his thoughts with hers. He lent her books, provided her with ideas,
shared his intellectual life with her. She listened to all” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.92). Sinico’s
response is minimal, suggesting she understands Duffy’s vulnerability: “Sometimes in return for
his theories she gave out some fact of her own life. With almost maternal solicitude she urged
him to let his nature open to the full; she became his confessor” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.92).
Duffy’s view of Sinico is quite impersonal, as he is not so much learning about her inner world
as he is presenting himself to another. Duffy’s isolation is shown to be quite profond, he can
interact with another human, but only with the other functioning as a mirror to Duffy’s psyche.
Despite his initial reticence, Duffy is evidently exhilarated by this relationship, and he
thus he meets Sinico even more. In my opinion, Duffy has come to a crisis point, which
highlights his ongoing wry mental state: his recent personal experiences have suggested that his
view of the world is not accurate, that he can choose to live as a part of human society. At the
same time, however, he cannot deny his ideals. He does not want to be seen as a friend or lover
to Sinico, but instead to be inhuman, to earn the angelical status.
Duffy’s softening is taken to a halt, however, and the relationship ends abruptly one night
when Mrs Sinico “caught up his hand passionately and pressed it to her cheek”. “Mr Duffy was
very much surprised. Her interpretation of his words disillusioned him” (James Joyce,
Dubliners, p.93). Duffy’s response is impressively cold and dull, and he reverts back to his
former self almost immediately. Duffy soon breaks off their relationship, to Sinico’s distress.
Consequently, Duffy’s tries to detach himself: “When they came out of the Park they walked in
silence towards the tram but here she began to tremble so violently that, fearing another collapse
on her part, he bade her goodbye quickly and left” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.93-94). Duffy,
having briefly tried to change his patterns and way of being, quickly returns to his old life, and
delves deep within his own past routines.
 After Sinico’s death, Duffy tries to maintain his aloofness and detachment, but when he
reads about Sinico’s demise in the evening newspaper while eating his solitary dinner alone he
becomes baffled, almost not being able to understand, as he reads the paragraph again and again,
unable to eat until he walks home in distress and attempts to read the story once more. Duffy’s
evident confusion again suggests, in my opinion, his predisposition for creating his own
narrative: the facts of Sinico’s death do not align with his conception of reality, and therefore
cannot be accepted immediately. This unemotional distancing cannot protect Duffy anymore,
and the bleak truth must come through: Sinico has died, her final days spent in shame as a
drunkard, and all of this is rooted in his relationship with her. The finality of this tragedy leaves
Duffy vulnerable and finds himself not being able to disengage again, because he has already
done so, and yet the awful reality of Sinico’s fate remains. His detachment, his refusal to accept
reality cannot avoid the truth of Sirico’s death. He cannot help, but acknowledge the real truth
that they had connected and now she was gone. The first touch exposed him to the truth he could
not accept (that Sinico was not a being of pure intellect), and this second touch reveals the
deeper, more troubling truth: Duffy is not a being of pure intellect, either but now is hopeless to
fulfill any emotional desires. Thus, Duffy, who had been completely self-obsessed and unwilling
to interact with humanity generally, finally comes to better understand his true nature through
considering the fate of another.
With these revelations still in mind, the previously calm, routine-oriented Duffy begins a
physical flight, returning to the pub, reflecting on his past and contemplating the finality of
death. Duffy continues his attempts to rationalize, thinking “what else could he have done.
Duffy’s practical, intellectualized take is shortly countered by a human response: “Now that she
was gone he understood how lonely her life must have been, sitting night after night alone in that
room. His life would be lonely too until, he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory—if
anyone remembered him” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.98). Having realized his own major errors
of judgment, his ends up exactly as the boy, as he now understands that the world he has created
for himself is a lie and was simply a way to avoid the dangers of society. The story ends, as did
“Araby,” with the protagonist out in public at night yet utterly alone. Duffy can see others,
loving couples, but he is not one of them. Soon even his delusions escape him, as he no longer
senses the haunting presence of Sinico and begins to doubt that such perceptions had been real.
Joyce’s final statement: “He could not feel her near him in the darkness, nor her voice touch his
ear. He waited for some minutes, listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent.
He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone” (James Joyce, Dubliners, p.99).

V.3 The Dead

James Joyce’s “The Dead” attempts to present a slice of life of Dublin, the struggles and
hardships of societal alienation, but also the genuine interhuman relationships; thus it is another
story which serves as perfect object to this chapter, with a character as Gabriel Conroy the main
protagonist.
In a letter written for his brother, Joyce declares about Dublin: “Sometimes thinking of
Ireland it seems to me that I have been unnecessarily harsh. I have reproduced (in Dubliners at
least) none of the attraction of the city. I have not reproduced its ingenuous insularity and its
hospitality. The latter “virtue” so far as I can tell does not exist elsewhere in Europe.” (Letters
of James Joyce, Volume II, p.166)
These related senses of insularity and hospitality are overwhelmingly present in “The
Dead”.
In my opinion, Gabriel Conroy type of alienation can be seen as the sum of the “Araby”
boy’s youth naivety and the mature rigidness of Duffy. As such, Gabriel represents the man in
his prime and finds himself in the perfect position to live his life properly. While the boy’s tender
age makes him oblivious to his youthful skewed life perspective and while Duffy is too callous
of a man, too rigid to self-analyze and change his decaying lifestyle, Gabriel is fully aware of his
imperfections and limitations and makes special efforts to interact with society. Nonetheless,
Gabriel Conroy’s secret, intimate desires are allegedly even more powerful than those of the boy
and Duffy, as Gabriel’s idealized vision of his marriage is maintained even after years of
marriage to Gretta.
The catalyst for Gabriel’s growing sense of isolation is Gretta. Gretta inspires fondness
and tenderness in him, but he primarily feels mastery over her. He illustrates the tense
intersection of social isolation and personal confrontation.
Such qualities do not make Gabriel sympathetic, but rather make him an example of a
man whose inner life struggles to keep pace with and adjust to the world around him. His life is
brimming with anxiety as he tries to get closer to Gretta, during the dance party, but also in
everyday life. Seemingly, he fails to do so, as the dance scene reveals a lack of connection
between him and his wife. And yet, by the end of the short story, Gabriel finds himself satisfied.
Although he cannot have the romantic life he wishes, Gretta still being stuck in her enamored
past, in the final scene he finally manages to connect to humanity, as he gazes at the falling
snow. Richard Ellmann affirms: “Under its canopy all human beings, whatever their degrees of
intensity, fall into union. The mutuality is that all men feel and lose feeling, all interact, all
warrant the sympathy that Gabriel now extends to Furey, to Gretta, to himself, even to old Aunt
Julia” (Richard Ellman, James Joyce, p.261). I think that, in contrast to the other two tales,
Gabriel’s final conclusion is positive, evidence to the fact that one can avoid alienation and
loneliness by stepping outside of the self, by being able to put his own needs aside, in favor of
understanding and connecting with other people.
Gabriel, the last protagonist of Dubliners, embodies many of the traits introduced and
explored in characters from earlier stories, including short temper, acute class consciousness,
social awkwardness, and frustrated love, thus he is a prime example of an alienated mixture of
Duffy and Araby’s boy.