What a pity - a Portrait

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
by James Joyce

- Pity is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the human suffer. Terror is the feeling which arrests the mind in the presence of whatsoever is grave and constant in human sufferings and unites it with the secret cause. - 207

I find it interesting although I am not sure that I understand these definitions clearly. More an artist's way to connect emotions, I would say.

Reading Joyce with Joy - Dubliners

by James Joyce

Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Fury lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. - from the Dead

I am not particularly fond of short stories but find Dubliners a pleasant read. Joyce's language did the trick, the eloquency of the narrative and the natural flow of tender sentiments. It's seemly simple and absolutely beautiful.

I know this even more clearly by comparison. Just finished reading Annie Proulx's Close Range: Wyoming Stories. They are, I suppose, also fairly well written; yet I could feel the intense manipulation of the style and the laborous choice of words, and I could also discern the earnest intention of the author, which made her work much less elegant or touching.

Makes me wonder about Ulysses, which I abandoned after a few chapters and disliked it since because I felt so lost reading it. Is it just me?

from Hester Prynne to Goodman Brown

by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804–1864)

the "scarelet letter" was about redemption. hester prynne was cast into public humiliation and social exclusion because of an adultery relationship. instead of succumbing to this extreme adverse situation - with justifiable sel- pity or bitterness towards an exceedingly indifferent and increasingly evil husband and the overly consevative and religious society - she developed as a person, drawing strength from her inner intellectual reflection, her fierce love for her daughter and her natural sympathy for others less fortunate in her eyes. consequently, not only was she able to transform from "an adulteress to an angel" (quoted Dr. Liaokang), she also helped her lover to redeem himself and her daughter to grow up a healthy and happy lady.

in contrary, goodman brown's life was ruined after his encounter with the devil in the forest, although he attempted to resist and was somewhat successful. i was for a while puzzled by his downward spiral to misery. by comparing these two characters, though, i've found the answer (so i believe). brown's faith was built upon others and hester was grown within. brown lost his faith while observing or perceving imperfections or evil doings of others, or one can even say that brown never had faith to being with, while hester was true to herself, both for her personal failings and virtures, and her faith only grew stronger, eventually influencing others positively.

the moral lesson? one does not believe because others do or don't. true faith or personal belief is an inner strength.

the elements of (reading) styles

(just a playful piece. to acheive the effects, i've attempted and spent quite some time to search for the desired words.)

so there are two ways of reading. if not more.

"read simple, feel ample" is a naturalist's way of exploring the written world. she may not be prepared; but she is ready to be entertained and enlightened, in a casual way - she has her feel, humility, common sense and intuition, which are nothing short of complexity, to be satisfied. how leisurely she turns the pages often makes even the most gifted writer panic and desperate. such is the elegance of style: complex in a simple way.

"read diligently and think intelligently" is a scholar's way of poring over reading materials. equipped with dictionaries, maps, atlases and (literary) travel guides, he reads within the lines, between the lines and without the lines. he feels, too. specially in the most unsightly sites, being it spine, skull, or scalp. how he offers his own knowledge, interpretation and comprehension moves even the least gifted writer to tears. rumors say such a reader is a writer's best friend. he might as well be the writer. the style? lots of elements.

do i still need to ask the question? which camp are you in?

it's all too human

Amadeus (movie, '84)

not sure what impression the movie was intended to achieve, surprisingly, i really liked Salieri, the insufferable musician, whose wonderful life was cast into shadow and ruined by Mozart, the genius.

i can easily relate to him and share his pain, not under the context of music, but in general. when each individual looks into himself, he simply sees wonder - how much he can do and what potential he really possesses! it is therefore only natural to be inspired that there must be a purpose instilled within. and, needless to say, the more talented, the stronger such sense of destiny. so Salieri, being so gifted and passionate about music, started on a high note.

yet, all gifts are relative - there is always someone better. far better. and any “other-worldly” achievements do not come by matter-of-factly. thus, for the majority of highly ambitious people, instead of feeling achievement, life lends a sense of failure, wasted dreams and bundles of disappointments. to me, Salieri just exemplified such an "all too human" human emotion.

on the bright side, at least, Salieri obviously had enjoyed the beauty of the heavenly music by Mozart, albeit through enormous pain (actually, some are convinced that pain is the ultimate appreciation of beauty, contrasting the latter with its intensity and futility?). A less gifted might be so blindly mad that he couldn't even tell good from bad.

Salieri’s questioning to god, like a whining baby, was cute, too - human beings are entitled to do that, often having to suffer so endlessly and senselessly. his jealousy did lead him to do a few foolish things, which, to be generous, were within the tolerable human weakness.

all in all, i was overwhelmed and enchanted by Mozart’s music but my sympathy went to Salieri, sort of seeing a more comical and tragic self. actually, i felt so much like helping that i wanted him to read my own piece on dealing with failure.;-)