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Crisis in james joyce the dead
The imagery of James Joyce
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"Mr Duffy abhorred anything which betokened physical or mental disorder." This is notion is quite evident when examining Mr. Duffy's living arrangements, occupation, and daily routine.
It is quickly evident that Mr. Duffy is a very independent sort, he seems the type that requires order and structure in everything aspect of his life. When examining Mr. Duffy's room we learn that his furniture is minimal, ranging from a bed, washstand, chairs, clothes rack, and a table with a desk on top of it. His room is not colorful or cluttered; rather it is made of white bedding, a white lamp shade, white book case, and lofty walls with no pictures. The only splash of color is a scarlet and black rug on the foot of his bed. We see more evidence of his attention to order when we learn the arrangement of books on his book shelf are "arranged from below upwards according to bulk." (p. 103) Even his desk is orderly with writing materials, a manuscript, stage directions, written specifically in purple ink, and a sheaf of papers organized by a brass pin.
Learning about Mr. Duffy's occupation, we discover that he has been in the same position for many years, thus providing consistency as a form of order. He works as a cashier in a private bank, a very predictable, day-in-day-out position to support his need for regulation. As we read further into the story, Mr. Duffy stays in this position for four more years, continuing his same occupational routine.
There is no question Mr. Duffy is routine in nature. Nothing seems to vary from day to day. Each morning he travels to the bank by tram, eats lunch at Dan Burke's consisting of a lager beer and arrowroot biscuits, upon the end of his workday, which ends promptly at four o'clock, he dines at George Street. His evenings too were predictable; they "were spent either at his landlady's piano or roaming about the outskirts of the city.
For the reader, it is odd to be immediately presented with this catalog of belongings, but O'Brien has a clear purpose in introducing his characters in this manner. In the midst of these laundry lists of articles we also get the revelation of key plot points, such as when
Overall I feel that this patient-practitioner role reversal which Kesey strategically inserted into this plot holds a great value in terms of social commentary. The disorders of many of the patients were displayed accurately as well as Bromden’s Paranoid Schizophrenia, or Nurse Ratched’s Psychopathy, and added to the authenticity of the environment which Kesey created to develop his critique on social conformity. The only disorder which I feel was wrongly displayed would be Mcmurphy’s “psychopathy” as he does not seem to meet any of the criteria of one with antisocial personality disorder. In conclusion, this book has a great literary value in the context of genuine empathetic care and patient treatment in the 20th century. I would highly recommend this book to anyone looking to ponder the subject further.
...The house he recreates, to put everything in order as the drawing of how neat the couch and lights are arranged, means that he tries to rebuild himself and forget who he was. Even that is still not really perfect to him when he says “Slightly perfect,” he never feel content with it. He is good at making people think that his family is normal, but it is not really because we see the unsmiling face of the two neglected children in the background. The narration informs the reader of her feeling towards her father, comparing him with “an alchemist of appearance, a savant of surface, a Daedalus of décor.” Allison uses the metaphor of Daedalus (a Greek mythology whose son is Icarus who flows into the sun and the father does not concern) to compare to the complex relationship between him and her. She resents his love of decoration and art and feels more distanced from him.
King, in introducing the little convent girl to the reader, goes to great lengths to present her as a dreary and uninteresting creature. She wore dark clothing, sat rigidly upright, secluded herself in her room, and displayed little zest for life. Therefor, when King uses the work "blac...
In the comparison of the college student's two expressions of his first impression of his dorm, Hall disregards the first passage as 'sloppy – slangy and fragmentary.'; He praises the second passage as suspenseful and detailed and suggests that the author has 'made great strides'; and has 'put some thought into creating a scene.'; I, however, find the second passage to be dull and watered-down, over-edited, and false sounding. Although the first passage could be improved by explaining where he was, what the disaster entailed, and who the funny-looking guy was, its honesty far outweighs the literary correctness of the second passage.
‘An Inspector Calls’ was written by J. B. Priestley in 1946 (after the Second World War), set in 1912 at the Birling family home, an affluent family in Brumley. Conflict is immediately introduced as a key theme and I will be exploring the conflict of: Socialism versus Capitalism (responsibility).
Her father states early on, “If Lori were really sick, my training told me, then I was to blame. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. So I refused to believe that Lori was really sick (Schiller 45). For Marvin Schiller, his disbelief stemmed from past perceptions of the cause of mental illness—that a disability of mental health is a result of upbringing. This perception, though negative and extremely problematic, is quite different from perceptions from ancient culture, which attributed it to being a punishment (Adair). Additionally, Schiller’s friends showed frustration. Her friend recalls, “Some of our friends weren’t sympathetic at all. In fact, a lot of the guys thought she was just bullshitting us” (30). Also, her brother expresses an unfortunately all too common concern when it comes to invisible disabilities: that Lori was faking it for attention. He says, “I was actually angry that she was so smart that she could make up an illness that no one could disprove” (179). The tendency of the people in Schiller’s life to head straight to suspicion speaks to the issue of mental illness being discarded as nonexistent, which only exacerbates the stigma when it is “proven” in some way, through a diagnosis, a witness to a hallucination, or even a suicide attempt. Short of instances such as these, mental illness tends be contested. In her article “My Body, My Closet,”
It is a serious and quiet event. She sees the boys as "short men" gathering in the living room, not as children having fun. The children seem subdued to us, with "hands in pockets". It is almost as if they are waiting, as the readers are, for something of importance to take place.... ... middle of paper ...
Mental illness was a main human rights issue in the novel Of Mice and Men. “Now, look—I'll give him the work tickets, but you ain't gonna say a word. You jus' stand there and don't say nothing. If he finds out what a crazy bastard you are, we won't get no job, but if he sees ya work before
By way of example, This Boy’s Life reads like the work of a writer who understands that he’s in fact “surrounded by stories” (Wolff 271). Additionally, its novelistic style and details have been altered in order to give Wolff’s memoir a fiction shape. Furthermore, much of the book was written in scenes, and dialogue which Jack felt it was due to his “good memory” (15). Not to mention that, “most of the people” Jack “lived with repeated themselves a lot” which allowed him to remember how certain characters spoke, and behaved while writing the memoir (26). Wolff’s book is entirely different from his brother’s Geoffrey’s book, which takes on a completely different view.
The sheer number of portrayals of mental illness in fictional films, television programs and, in this case, literature is substantial and has been primarily responsible for perpetuating certain myths and stereotypes about mental illness. In most cases, people who are portrayed with mental illnesses are commonly exhibited as being violent and/or aggressive, but are also frequently depicted as eccentrics, seductresses (in the case of women), self-obsessives, objects for scientific observation, simpletons and/or failures. One or more of these such labels can be applied to the characters examined in both The Beauty Queen of Leenane and The Holy
'I hate writing', William thought as he slouched at his desk, his finger tracing the well worn letters, H...E...L...P carved into his desk; a desperate plea by a past pupil who may have actually died of boredom. William was your typical boy, brown hair tousled hair, brown eyes, average height, average weight, average in every way except for his, above average distaste for being bored. "Everybody hates writing," he muttered under his breath.
Richard must stick up for himself in more ways than one, as my brother does dealing with mental illness. Just as Richard faced racial prejudices, my brother faces stigma for things he can’t control. As Richard is born African American and is shamed for it and put into stereotypes, my brother was born with skizo-affective disorder with similar reactions from friends, family, and even strangers.
When he reaches the Company station, he obtains his first astonishment. Everything seems worthless. Marlow finds no evidence of any devotion to efficiency, but finds what he considers a miracle among the disorder. This “miracle” is the chief accountant. The reason Marlow finds this man so phenomenal is because he shows restraint.
Standing a mere three feet tall at most, it guards the door of my bedroom as a silent sentry. Its dual levels have been incessantly reordered to house each item in an aesthetic and efficient manner. The faded brown of the wood highlights the array of bright covers that lay at the front, patiently waiting to be withdrawn and analyzed once more. This humble bookcase is the crowning jewel of my personal space. The walls are lined with a diverse selection of truly enthralling books, all penned by arguably the most astute minds of all time. The knowledge of centuries lies at my finger tips, breathlessly hungering for me to turn the pages and absorb its riches.