A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce: a review

Okay, fine, I’ll read James Joyce.

Look, I’ll be honest, I did read this for class (and I did start to read it once before, but I barely remember reading it, and didn’t even get that far past the Christmas dinner). The thing with Joyce is that, when you’re a literature student, he’s one of those authors. You can’t avoid him, and you will encounter his work at some point. Before now, I’ve encountered his work twice; the first time was when I previously tried reading this book, and the second was when I attempted Ulysses. At the time, I just couldn’t get on with his style, and really couldn’t get very far with either. When A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man came up on my reading this year, it came time to give Joyce a second chance. Oh, and that doesn’t mean I’m reading Ulysses any time soon. I don’t have time for that, and I don’t think I could deal with Joyce’s style for that long.

            A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce follows Stephen Dedalus throughout his young life, starting when he’s little more than a toddler, and ending when he’s around the age of sixteen. Joyce reflects on his own life looking at his connection to family, Catholicism, and his relationship to what it means to be a blossoming artist.

            I think I enjoyed the story itself more than how it was written, for the most part at least. There are plenty of individual lines that I’d quote here if my kindle didn’t decide to throw away my highlights. However, I just didn’t find myself gelling too well with Joyce’s stream of consciousness style. It’s the same reason I didn’t really get on with Virginia Woolf when I tried reading her work. That’s entirely on me, though. If you enjoy that style, then of course you’ll enjoy reading this book.

            One of my favourite things about this book is that there are a couple of scenes where you’re seeing the world around Stephen, and it’s harsh and rough, then suddenly Stephen is slapped back in your face and all the implications of what that scene means for him hits you like a bus. There are two where this is particularly clear. Firstly, there’s the famous (or perhaps infamous) Christmas dinner scene where Stephen is confronted with the world of politics, and how that can force divides between families and loved ones. Secondly, there’s the sermon scene. This is the one that really stuck with me. Stephen has been sinning a lot, mostly through sleeping with as many sex workers as he can find, and then for the better part of the third chapter, we see a sermon play out. I almost began to forget about Stephen, mostly because I started feeling Catholic guilt despite having never been Catholic. Then, it cuts to Stephen running to his room feeling nauseous, and barely able to stand. Joyce slaps you with a big old “your protagonist is having a crisis”, and I love it. Despite my issues with Joyce’s style, I do think these moments come from that style. So, there’s pros and cons, I suppose.

            If you’re going to try to read Joyce, maybe start here. I think it’s a great way to try to get to grips with his style, and it’s an incredibly enjoyable story. Also, to anyone who has tried to get me to read Joyce before (you know who you are) I hope you’re happy now, but know that I have no plans to read any more from him in the near future. I’ll probably read Dubliners one day, but Ulysses and Finnegans Wake are certainly not on my horizons.

Stay tuned this week. I have another review coming on Thursday!