Matt Moseman
AP Literature



   ‘The Dead’ by James Joyce is a story about the fear of meaninglessness that plagues all human beings in one way or another.  In order to most coherently and most poignantly support this claim, I will employ situationist methodology in my dissection of ‘The Dead’.  But first, in the interest of readability and wider accessibility, I believe a brief introduction to situationist theory is in order.
   My claim is built upon two important situationist concepts.  The first is the concept of psychogeography.  Psychogeography is how we, as individuals, develop unique perceptions of our physical surroundings.  For example, if you walk down the same street every day, every day the physical geography will be the same, however, the differences in your emotional reactivity to those physical elements cause the psychogeography of the street to be in constant flux.
   The second concept upon which my theory relies is the situationist ‘spectacle’.  Admittedly, the situationist conception of the spectacle is a very complex issue, and one which can be hard for laypersons to grasp—but I will do my best to make the material as invaginable as possible.  Larry Law, in Images and Everyday Life, wrote “We live in a spectacular society, that is, our whole life is surrounded by an immense accumulation of spectacles.”  A spectacle, in the situationist sense, is that with which one does not identify; it is alien, entirely external.  To see oneself as a spectacle is to fail to identify with oneself, meaning that one has no identity, that one is no one and nothing but utter nihil. 
   Joyce provides enough information on the first page of ‘The Dead’ to begin rough psychogeographical analysis, the key to which is picking up on that which is likely to have influenced the way people, or in this case, characters, view their surroundings.  The surrounding for the majority of ‘The Dead’ is the house in which the gathering is held, a house the first of which we hear is accompanied with talk of death; the death of Kate and Julia’s brother Pat.  Furthermore, from the death, we are introduced to the image of “[…]the dark, gaunt house on Usher’s Island” (142).  Although these events are depicted as having taken place thirty years ago, it is not unreasonable to suspect that the mordant atmosphere of death and decay is not forgotten by the full time inhabitants of the house.  Indeed, throughout the story glimpses of the intense sadness that lies beneath the surface are manifested in the behavior of Kate and Julia.
   Soon, there is talk of the first spectacle of the evening, “[…]they were dreadfully afraid that Freddy Malins might turn up screwed.”(143)  From the outset, even before his arrival, Freddy is not thought of as a man by the cast of characters or as implied by Joyce’s narration.  Instead, his alcoholism takes center stage in the minds of the guests, rendering the man himself an abstract corrupting influence—a mischievous Loki figure, but certainly not a sympathetic human being.  This is the nature of the spectacle, that which is not identified with, but thought of as separate.  When Freddy’s entrance does come around, he is not introduced as a man like the others, but instead the only words that mark his coming are Julia’s; “Here’s Freddy.” (147)  Is Freddy Malins a human male, or some kind of creature being let loose from his cage to wreak havoc on the good pious folk of the town?  Such a blurred distinction is the hallmark of the spectacle.
   The bestialization of Freddy certainly does not stop there.  He is described thusly; “His face was fleshy and pallid, touched with colour only at the thick hanging lobes of his ears and at the wide wings of his nose.  He had course features, a blunt nose, a convex and receding brow, tumid and protruded lips.”  Summoned is the image of some mean shambler, unfit even to dine among men.  Freddy himself does not fully grasp the fact that he is a mere spectacle, in no small part due to his inebriation, but he does take note of the fact that he has been dehumanized by many at the party—a condition which he on several occasions seeks to remedy.  The first readily identifiable attempt at compensation on the part of Freddy immediately follows Aunt Julia’s vocal performance.  Freddy showers compliments upon the old woman, even after all the other guests have quieted down, apparently trying to bribe his way back into the public’s good graces with flattery.  Apparently not having achieved satisfactory results, Freddy tries another tactic, crying out defense for the black singer in a not-so-subtle comparison to himself.  Perhaps due to the alcohol, or simply because Freddy gives up, he seems to later accept his role as a spectacle; banging silverware in rhythm and such as the party guests sing for the three graces.
   Not all the spectacles that appear in ‘The Dead’ are individuals like Freddy though.  Almost anything can be rendered a spectacle—events past or present, happenings, items—one character in particular seems to be able to manipulate the phenomena of the spectacle to her favor; Mary Jane.  When it seems a quarrel is breaking out among the aunts and Mr. Browne involving religion, Mary Jane knows exactly how to stop it from escalating.  She says, “We really are all hungry and when we are hungry we are all very quarrelsome.”  By blaming the hunger for the quarrel, Mary Jane cuts any personal identification or blame that anybody had been holding on to, effectively isolating the phenomena of the quarrel and rendering it a harmless spectacle.
   Of course, though, these analyses are but appetizers, for the most substantive character and he who is most interesting to focus our situationally critical eye upon is, without a doubt, Gabriel.  Gabriel’s psychogeographical experience is spun out of his own control from the second he steps foot in the house.  The girl Lily, who presents him with a bitter remark, entirely unexpected, totally throws Gabriel out of sync with the rest of the guests.  He is unable to get over the feelings that come over him—he suffers an irreversible (seemingly) psychogeographical paradigm shift, one which leaves him disoriented and causes his thought process to become disorganized.  Because of his change in perception of his surroundings, Gabriel loses confidence, he starts second guessing himself, “He would fail with them as he had failed with the girl in the pantry.  He had taken up a wrong tone.  His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure.”  Obviously Gabriel’s head is spinning.  It seems, as the story goes on, that he simply cannot dig himself out of that initial hole.
   Even as Mary Jane played the piano, Gabriel could not get over the dissonance that he feels with the party setting.  His thinking becomes chaotic and disharmonic, so he cannot appreciate the harmonies of the party.  Even worse, he is repeatedly verbally attacked over the course of the early evening, and never allowed enough time to get his head on straight, causing his psychogeographical reactions to become darker and darker, which is, to an extent, represented in the narration.  First there was the snappy reply from Lily, then Gabriel is tormented by the bubbly, and, I suspect, sociopathic Miss Ivors, who taunts him by calling him a West Briton.  As his mood sours, Gabriel grows more and more detached, even slipping into escapist daydreams, an offshoot of the psychogeographic responses garnered from the house. 
   Gabriel’s encounter with Miss Ivors illustrates how two dissonant psychogeographical states can cause two otherwise well-intentioned individuals to cause each other discomfort.  Because their emotional landscapes differ so radically, Gabriel and Miss Ivors each interpret the actions taken in irreconcilably different ways.  Neither Gabe nor Miss Ivors had malicious intentions, but the overall impact of the episode is injurious to Gabriel’s already disturbed state of mind.
   Gabriel feels slighted by Miss Ivors and sees himself as an undeserving victim.  He sees no reason why he should be obliged to submit to the will of a mob that demands he travel to the west of Ireland.  In order to reinforce the injustice of his state, he seeks his wife’s support, but to his chagrin she also appeals to him to travel to the west of Ireland.  This is a turning point in Gabriel’s place in and perception of the gathering.  Now he sees no one is on his side, he is alone in his rebellion, and he stubbornly holds out, telling his wife “You can go if you like” (155).  Now his psychogeographical profile of the house is not merely confused or dysphoric, but hostile.  He is besieged.
   At this, it is unsurprising that, once again, Gabriel turns to escapism, Joyce writes, “Gabriel’s warm trembling hand tapped against the cold pane of the window.  How cool it must be to be outside!”.  The wording is no coincidence—Gabriel seeks cool relief because for him the party has become the ultimate spectacle: Hell.  Now he can no longer relate to or identify with the others, the spectacle surrounds him, and yet more grave still, Gabriel begins to realize that to the others, he is the spectacle.
   Gabriel’s psychogeography is consistently evidenced in Joyce’s belligerent narrative imagery, ie. “An irregular musketry of applause”(156).  The battlefield analogy encroaches on Gabriel, forcing him to become more and more withdrawn.  He eventually embraces the fight mentality and tries to regain his sense of control as he carves the goose, “He felt quite at ease now for he was an expert carver and liked nothing better[…]”(160).  It is Gabriel’s unconscious hope that with an expertly wielded knife he can cut through the obfuscating haze of the gathering.  But his effort is doomed, as he soon realizes, for the fog is not external; it is a psychogeographical feature, and thusly resistant to primitive defense mechanisms.  After the carving episode, when Gabriel gives his speech, he gives a nod to his chaotic, disorganized conscious state, beginning with “It has fallen to my lot this evening[…]”, a gambling reference which I allege was also quite intentional.
   Below the stairs after the dinner has concluded, Gabriel witnesses a rare occurrence; He sees the spectacle of his wife regain her humanity before his eyes.  Clarity, any smidgeon of clarity, seems profound at this point, even divine.  He is reinvigorated in the course of his subsequent exit from the house that has haunted him so.  Once again, however, Gabriel makes the mistake of assuming that his wife will be swept away in his emotional tides, which to him seem strong enough to stir anything.  She is not, on the contrary, she becomes gradually overwhelmed by grief, sadness, regret, and melancholia.  Gambling with his hard earned clarity Gabriel tries to raise his wife’s spirits but ultimately succeeds only in rousing a great singular despair from her past: Michael Fury.  At this, Joyce writes that “A shameful consciousness of his own person assailed [Gabriel]”.  This is indicative of a great descent, for Gabriel sees himself as a spectacle, and thus an empty shade.  Looking out the window he realizes that the house was never the source of the darkness that so affects him, that it is everywhere, that the world and every being on it is oppressed by such darkness, the world is a spectacle, and Gabriel sees no chance of escape.

Thank you, I was beginning to think nobody would ever read this.  Probably the best paper I'll write for AP Lit all year since it was the last one I did before getting into college...

very nice though i was getting sick of that word psychogeography, haha i never tried this hard in high school or college for that matter, i remember handing in this one essay to my ap lit teacher and she just gave it back to me with 'bullshit' written on the top

invaginable

A mistake...Surely?  Possibly a freudian slip showing?

not a mistake.  look it up.

I havn't gotten him that blunt yet but he did comment that my wide sargasso sea paper was 'mailed in'

This is really good... usually I write my english essays about personal crap and the teachers eat it all up. But this is insane.

Matt,

The Dead is one of my favorites and this essay
captures important aspects of it.

                              Ken

`

Well not said, SL.

milner