The Books: “Dubliners” – ‘Clay’ (James Joyce)

Daily Book Excerpt: Adult fiction:

Dubliners – by James Joyce – excerpt from the tenth story in the collection: “Clay”.

A wee story, 5 pages long – deceptively simple and light. I remember not getting it at all the first time I read it. It’s called “Clay”. Where’s the clay?? Well, the clay is there all right – but in typical Joycean style, he doesn’t name it, and – because he doesn’t name it – it becomes omnipresent. At least it did for me – once I knew what Joyce was up to. It’s not even that opaque – but the story does require work from the reader – in the way that the other stories, up until this part in the collection, do not. It’s like Ulysses. Once you know his structure, once you know what Joyce is DOING … the book is perfectly clear. And not only clear, but fun!

On the surface, ‘Clay’ is the story of a woman who goes to a party on Halloween. She seems like a lovely woman, with a great spirit – although life is difficult for her. She laughs a lot – and Joyce continuously mentions that the tip of her nose almost touches the tip of her chin when she laughs. It’s a bit heartbreaking, that image. She is excited for the party. She has a hard life – she was a nursemaid, and now she works in a laundry in Dublin. Most of the other women who work at the laundry are alcoholics and prostitutes. Maria (our heroine) is very religious – and was at first frightened to work in the laundry because it’s a Protestant-run establishment … but it turns out that the Protestants aren’t so bad after all. Maria has no family. But she has kept in touch with Joe – a man whom she took care of when he was a little boy. Joe invites her out to his house for special occasions – he has kids, a nice wife … and Maria loves to be included in the family circle. It makes her feel sad that Joe is no longer on speaking terms with Alphy – his brother, whom Maria also took care of. But life is not perfect. On this particular Halloween Eve, Maria finishes up her work at the laundry – she got the night off, so she can go spend it with Joe and his family. She is so excited she almost forgets that there is an early mass the next morning. She goes out shopping to buy nuts and plum-cake for the kids. She gets on the tram, and has an interaction with a “colonel-looking gentleman” (again, with the British presence in these stories) – which baffles her so much that she leaves the plum-cake on the train. It’s not that anything weird happens – it’s that he’s so nice to her, gives up his seat, chats with her – that she gets disoriented. She arrives at Joe’s. It’s a nice warm family scene. Maria is included. She is very upset about losing the cake on the train – but Joe assures her it’s all right. They have some wine. They play Irish games with the kids, for Halloween. One of the games involves someone being blindfolded and brought up to a table where she has to choose an object blindly – and each object has significance, in traditional Irish games. There’s water, a ring, a prayer-book … and then a lump of clay (but again: the clay is never named, or even mentioned). I imagine if you choose the ring then that means you will be married soon, if you choose the prayer-book it means you will enter the priesthood/convent within the year … choosing water means long life, and choosing clay means impending death. (I only know all this because I Googled traditional Halloween games in Ireland, mkay? If you DON’T know these things, you could probably guess – but Joyce does, indeed, make you guess. There’s an internal symbolism going on here that does not reach the surface).

Maria, though, does not seem to get it. She doesn’t understand the game. She reaches out, blindfolded, and feels her fingers touch something wet. She doesn’t know what it is – and Joyce doesn’t help us out by saying, “she touched something … it was clay … but Maria didn’t realize it …” or some other such narrative aid. The narration of this story is totally Maria’s – we only know what she knows. It’s not first-person – it’s third-person – but with no omniscence. So if Maria doesn’t know it, we don’t either. Joyce, in showing Maria’s lack of knowledge of things, is criticizing the education system in Ireland – which seemed to have a vested interest in keeping the populace ignorant. He was big on that. Maria is a Catholic, of course – and the church runs her life – another thing that Joyce despised about his home country. Everything is about mass, and Protestants vs. Catholics – and setting the alarm for the Holy Day of Obligation the next day – Joyce doesn’t overtly judge – because, of course, the story is from Maria’s point of view. But that’s part of his strategy. Once you see what he is doing, it’s ALL you can see. Maria, on the tram, is intimidated by the “colonel-looking gentleman” who is kind to her – she is so discombobbled by it that she leaves a package behind on the train. This is what the oppressor does to the oppressed … and the oppressor, in this case, has Maria’s consent! Maria doesn’t even KNOW she is oppressed – and to Joyce, that is the worst thing about it.

Maria chooses clay during the game. She is blindfolded. Nobody says anything when she touches the clay. She wonders what it is. Joe’s wife says something to the young girls – like “get rid of that – put it back in the garden …” She’s “cross”. It’s like Death has just entered. A breath of mortality. The clay (which is never named) is taken away – and Maria is given the prayer-book instead. Maria doesn’t seem to realize what has happened. Death is imminent. She clings to the prayer-book instead.

A vicious story, when you get the symbolism.

Oh yes – and the story ends with Joe asking Maria to sing a song, just like she used to do when he was little. She does. She is so nervous she sings the first verse twice – but nobody seems to mind. The song she sings is an aria from Bohemian Girl – an opera – popular at the time … and back in the story ‘Eveline’ (excerpt here) – it is mentioned that Frank, Eveline’s lover, takes her to see Bohemian Girl on a date. Nothing is accidental with Joyce – there are no coincidences. If you think there is a connection – there probably is. And there are probably way more levels of connection than you can even discern. He’s not a “to the naked eye” kind of writer. The first thing I see is that the very title of the opera – Bohemian Girl – is a comment on the dead-end life Ireland offers its young people. Not just men (although Joyce is primarily concerned with men) but women. You couldn’t be a Bohemian Girl in Ireland. There are no options for freedom, or an unconventional life. It is a church-bound priest-ridden nation, supersititious and small-minded … and in order to escape the ties that bind, you must leave. Joyce makes it seem impossible to even live freely within your OWN mind … People like Little Chandler, in ‘A Little Cloud’ (excerpt here) – tries to escape through poetry … but it’s not good enough. Reality is too stifling. So Eveline, in ‘Eveline’, dreams of Argentina – and being a free and married woman there, away from the ties of family and culture. But at the last minute, she can’t leave. She can’t. It has too great a hold on her. So now – some stories later – we encounter Maria, a woman who works in a laundry, is unmarried, and dependent on kindly friends to open their homes to her on holidays. Is Joyce perhaps saying (by connecting the two stories with “Bohemian Girl”) that Eveline – a young vibrant person at the time of the story – in choosing to stay in Ireland – eventually will become Maria? That that will be her only option? I wouldn’t put it past Joyce to make such a comparison.

Why does Maria sing an aria from “Bohemian Girl” and not a hymn or something religious? Joyce is suggesting something deeper here, something more haunting and terrible.

Here’s an excerpt.

EXCERPT FROM Dubliners – by James Joyce – “Clay”.

She got out of her tram at the Pillar and ferreted her way quickly among the crowds. She went into Downes’s cakeshop but the shop was so full of people that it was a long time before she could get herself attended to. She bought a dozen of mixed penny cakes, and at last came out of the shop laden with a big bag. Then she thought what else she would buy: she wanted to buy something really nice. They would be sure to have plenty of apples and nuts. It was hard to know what to buy and all she could think of was cake. She decided to buy some plumcake but Downes’s plumcake had not enough almond icing on top of it so she went over to a shop in Henry Street. Here she was a long time in suiting herself and the stylish young lady behind the counter, who was evidently a little annoyed by her, asked her was it wedding-cake she wanted to buy. That made Maria blush and smile at the young lady, but the young lady took it all very seriously and finally cut a thick slice of plumcake, parcelled it up and said:

— Two-and-four, please.

She thought she would have to stand in the Drumcondra tram because none of the young men seemed to notice her but an elderly gentleman made room for her. He was a stout gentleman and he wore a brown hard hat; he had a square red face and a greyish moustache. Maria thought he was a colonel-looking gentleman and she reflected how much more polite he was than the young men who simply stared straight before them. The gentleman began to chat with her about Hallow Eve and the rainy weather. He supposed the bag was full of good things for the little ones and said it was only right that the youngsters should enjoy themselves while they were young. Maria agreed with him and favoured him with demure nods and hems. He was very nice with her, and when she was getting out at the Canal Bridge she thanked him and bowed, and he bowed to her and raised his hat and smiled agreeably; and while she was going up along the terrace, bending her tiny head under the rain, she thought how easy it was to know a gentleman even when he has a drop taken.