I was impressed before the Winter Break with the amount of students reading Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol of their own accord. A few noted that reading this story is a Christmas tradition in their homes, which I applauded and felt was a due honor to one of the best writers in English literature. As my own family enjoyed a stage production of A Christmas Carol this week, my wife and I agreed that there's something for everyone at every age in this story, which was attested by our toddler sitting enraptured and still during the entire performance.
My own Christmas literary tradition is cut from a slightly different cloth: James Joyce's novella The Dead. Just as A Christmas Carol offers something new and profound with each revisit, Joyce's story became my Christmas staple when a vibrant Irish literature professor introduced it to me years ago in college. Like any Joyce story, the rich symbolism and profound depth of the narrative engrossed me, and I find when I reread it each year I walk away with an appreciation of a new detail or aspect of the piece.
On the surface, The Dead is a rather simple read--far more accessible than the stream of consciousness in Ulysses or the bizarre wordplay in Finnegans Wake. In the story, a man and wife go to a yearly Christmas party. He worries about and eventually delivers a solid toast at the dining table, the company sings and dances, and the wife gets nostalgic for her early years in Galway. They retire back to their hotel room, and the man contemplates something as he looks out on the snowy Dublin scene. However, the plot is not what drives the story: it's the embedded beliefs and desires within the characters' thoughts and interactions that make this scenario a potential philosophical playground for those willing to dig deeper. What Joyce placed in between the printed lines rewards his readers, especially with repeat explorations.
Similar to Dickens, Joyce uses the unique ambiance of the Christmas season to set the stage for serious life introspection. Although his main character, Gabriel, appears on the surface to be far removed from the crotchety Ebenezer Scrooge, the two share perspective-changing encounters through their one-night brushes with the spirits of the dead (Scrooge literally; Gabriel figuratively). These otherworldly encounters invited both men to reconsider the shackles of stubborn belief and misguided perception that had entangled them, giving themselves (and readers) a transcendent moment of understanding that went beyond this mortal experience.
My own Christmas literary tradition is cut from a slightly different cloth: James Joyce's novella The Dead. Just as A Christmas Carol offers something new and profound with each revisit, Joyce's story became my Christmas staple when a vibrant Irish literature professor introduced it to me years ago in college. Like any Joyce story, the rich symbolism and profound depth of the narrative engrossed me, and I find when I reread it each year I walk away with an appreciation of a new detail or aspect of the piece.
On the surface, The Dead is a rather simple read--far more accessible than the stream of consciousness in Ulysses or the bizarre wordplay in Finnegans Wake. In the story, a man and wife go to a yearly Christmas party. He worries about and eventually delivers a solid toast at the dining table, the company sings and dances, and the wife gets nostalgic for her early years in Galway. They retire back to their hotel room, and the man contemplates something as he looks out on the snowy Dublin scene. However, the plot is not what drives the story: it's the embedded beliefs and desires within the characters' thoughts and interactions that make this scenario a potential philosophical playground for those willing to dig deeper. What Joyce placed in between the printed lines rewards his readers, especially with repeat explorations.
Similar to Dickens, Joyce uses the unique ambiance of the Christmas season to set the stage for serious life introspection. Although his main character, Gabriel, appears on the surface to be far removed from the crotchety Ebenezer Scrooge, the two share perspective-changing encounters through their one-night brushes with the spirits of the dead (Scrooge literally; Gabriel figuratively). These otherworldly encounters invited both men to reconsider the shackles of stubborn belief and misguided perception that had entangled them, giving themselves (and readers) a transcendent moment of understanding that went beyond this mortal experience.
Isn't this why we scour literature--to not only enjoy a well crafted tale, but to enjoy these moments of epiphany? Even as I write this, fresh from a new read of The Dead, I already anticipate coming back to the story next winter to see how it will change me once again.