The End of the Dead

The Ending of the Dead:

It feels, perhaps, like we have been talking about this forever-, which is at once frustrating and fascinating. A large part of Joyce’s beauty, true beauty is in the universality of that message and in the way in which he renders it. It is so universal, say, that at alternate times in ones’ life, the language, the ending, the story, holds a different meaning. A choose your own adventure for the heavy-duty literary types, or as Foucault said, Headed toward death, language turns back upon itself; it encounters something like a mirror; and to stop this death which would stop it, it possesses but a single power: that of giving birth to its own image in a play of mirrors that has no limits, "Language to Infinity But as we Millburnites are a group wholly uncomfortable with ambiguity and lack of control, I can only offer these two interpretations as in reference to the commonly asked What does it mean?
It could stand as a negative reading- meaning that in this moment of self-actualization, Gabriel chooses to sacrifice his sense of self- to be more like Michael Furey, leading to his ultimate paralysis. Some readers are skeptical of the sincerity of the moment, wondering exactly how “generous” his tears actually are, critiquing his bitterness at Gretta’s appearance. They further this reading by stating that “swoon” here relates to the unconsciousness of death, and mark the ending as depressing.
But then there are readers like me, who read The Dead and get tears in their eyes, who staunchly defend the final paragraphs as some of the most beautiful in all of literature, who feel the ending with every last fiber of their beings. Because, to us, the end of The Dead is transcendent. Because in that moment of realization and self-actualization, of heightened awareness and simply being, Gabriel puts the world into perfectly placed perspective. We are all part of this human condition. We will all experience love and loss and failure. We will all know disappointment and joy. We will all be uncertain and sometimes frightened, or even plainly scared. And in knowing this, in channeling this feeling of connection, there is, even in the bleakest of hours, hope.
And hope inspires. It inspires actions and ideas, gestures and feelings. Life is a remarkable reckless wonder. And that’s enough to make this reader swoon.

So let’s say goodbye to James Joyce and hello to Holiday break. I’ll miss you but I hope you each have a wonderful time! Relax and enjoy!
And get excited for axe murderers and Siberian prisons, prostitutes with hearts of gold and gritty hot St. Petersburg! Crime and Punishment is next!