Essay on Convergence in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man :: Portrait Artist Young Man

Convergence in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man    As far as portraits go, James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is pretty dynamic.   Stephen is constantly in motion, hurtling through life. He sees, smells, and touches everything around him.   But I'd like to focus on one of the quieter moments - a moment of convergence.   The narrative encloses Stephen in a cloud of his own past, present, and future as he stands in a Dublin courtyard:    He began to beat the frayed end of his ashplant against the base of the pillar.   Had Cranly not heard him?   Yet he could wait.   The talk about him ceased for a moment: and a soft hiss fell again from a window above.   But no other sound was in the air and the swallows whose flight had followed with idle eyes were sleeping. [1]    Stephen's impatience melts as his quiet thoughts replace whatever he was about to say to Cranly.   He closes his senses off to his companions, to the roosting sounds of the birds in the courtyard and the jangle of the streets.   He hears only "a soft hiss".   This is the point of intersection for Stephen, and for the narrative itself.   Stephen remembers a quiet moment of prayer "in a wood near Malahide" - the past.   He thinks of Emma walking through the streets of Dublin leaving a trail of reverent silence.   She is the now.   Stephen beats an ashplant - a convenient prop for a poet - against a pillar and decides that he can wait.   Darkness is falling - it's almost tomorrow, almost the future.   This moment of quiet convergence for Stephen is a point of intersection for the reader: past, present, and future meet in a dusky Dublin courtyard.   Joyce incorporates several layers of his own creation into the scene - draws on his own "Epiphanies" and gives Stephen a prop to carry into Ulysses.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   In chapter five of the novel, Joyce sets up this meditative moment for Stephen, has him remember a quiet moment of prayer from his past:    . . . he had dismounted from a borrowed creaking bicycle to pray to God in a wood near Malahide. He had lifted up his arms and spoken in ecstasy to the sombre nave of the trees, knowing that he stood on holy ground and in a holy hour. Essay on Convergence in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man :: Portrait Artist Young Man Convergence in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man    As far as portraits go, James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is pretty dynamic.   Stephen is constantly in motion, hurtling through life. He sees, smells, and touches everything around him.   But I'd like to focus on one of the quieter moments - a moment of convergence.   The narrative encloses Stephen in a cloud of his own past, present, and future as he stands in a Dublin courtyard:    He began to beat the frayed end of his ashplant against the base of the pillar.   Had Cranly not heard him?   Yet he could wait.   The talk about him ceased for a moment: and a soft hiss fell again from a window above.   But no other sound was in the air and the swallows whose flight had followed with idle eyes were sleeping. [1]    Stephen's impatience melts as his quiet thoughts replace whatever he was about to say to Cranly.   He closes his senses off to his companions, to the roosting sounds of the birds in the courtyard and the jangle of the streets.   He hears only "a soft hiss".   This is the point of intersection for Stephen, and for the narrative itself.   Stephen remembers a quiet moment of prayer "in a wood near Malahide" - the past.   He thinks of Emma walking through the streets of Dublin leaving a trail of reverent silence.   She is the now.   Stephen beats an ashplant - a convenient prop for a poet - against a pillar and decides that he can wait.   Darkness is falling - it's almost tomorrow, almost the future.   This moment of quiet convergence for Stephen is a point of intersection for the reader: past, present, and future meet in a dusky Dublin courtyard.   Joyce incorporates several layers of his own creation into the scene - draws on his own "Epiphanies" and gives Stephen a prop to carry into Ulysses.      Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   In chapter five of the novel, Joyce sets up this meditative moment for Stephen, has him remember a quiet moment of prayer from his past:    . . . he had dismounted from a borrowed creaking bicycle to pray to God in a wood near Malahide. He had lifted up his arms and spoken in ecstasy to the sombre nave of the trees, knowing that he stood on holy ground and in a holy hour.