Reading Journal _ "Araby"

From a distance, James Joyce’s “Araby” might appear to be a tender yet unsuccessful account of a young boy’s first love. His utter blurting of “If I go, I will bring you something.” portrays him as a Prince Charming willing to do anything to win his Cinderella. After all, when the nameless narrator suggests that Mangan’s sister is surrounded by light, he deifies her as an angel. To the young boy, going to “Araby” is the last gate he must pass in order to conquer his love. However, on the other hand, the journey might as well be the narrator’s attempt to prove that the world of his dreams exists. He perceives “Araby” as the direct opposite of the blind and drab neighborhood he lives in, being the one chance he can count on to substantiate the existence of the ideal life that he dreams of, perhaps the life that was possible when the priest was alive, genuinely preaching sermons from books that are now “curled and damp,” and the now “rusty bicycle-pump” was properly functioning. Therefore, it is perhaps more accurate to assume that “Araby” is not a romantic destination for potential lovebirds, but rather a dull and bland domain built for commercial purposes like any other marketplace. Here, the innocent young narrator, who had quite a hard time obtaining enough money to go to “Araby,” develops a new insight into the world. That it is indeed not a place where pure love and faith can exist struck the boy hard; the “innumerable follies” that had tortured him and the gossip of Mrs. Mercer that he had to endure were all for nothing. In this sense, “Araby” awakens the boy to the reality of people “counting money on a salver” and choosing flirting over selling, when they could be pursuing true values such as love. The descending images – closed stalls, the greater part of the hall that was dark, fall of coins – signal the boy gradually realizing the brutal truth: the “white” and “twinkling” love that he had so enthusiastically sought after was no more than an ideal fantasy that his imagination had created, only to be turned off as easy as a switch, once the hall became “completely dark.”