How_Much_Is_That_Paralysis_in_the_Window_

Gregory Raiewski English 45C Prof. Blanton / Coldren 2 April 2010 How Much is that Paralysis in The Window' As Gabriel is introduced into the annual dinner party in “The Dead,” so is paralysis, in a rather subtle but nonetheless effective manner in which to associate paralysis directly with Gabriel. The narrator points out that “[o]n his hairless face there scintillated restlessly the polished lenses and the bright gilt rims of the glasses which screen his delicate and restless eyes” (178). Next, Gabriel’s eyes are described as “admiring and happy eyes [that] had been wandering from [Gretta’s] dress to her face and hair” (180). While eye movement in a normal, healthy adult may seem insignificant, a paralyzed individual’s movement may be restricted literally to his or her eyes alone; Gabriel’s eyes being “restless” is an early hint to his paralysis, introduced even before his struggle with wanting to leave Dublin, as he does not act but simply observes only by the use of his eyes. Within this party are the instrumental figures that Joyce uses to convey the grasp paralysis has on Gabriel. When Gabriel is debating with Miss Ivors, she is attempting to persuade his traveling to be within Ireland, or in other words, remaining an insider. Feeling defensive yet desirous to remain civil, Gabriel is left in a paralytic state, as in his response to Miss Ivors’ harangues, he “continued blinking his eyes and trying to smile” (188). Through this uncomfortable situation, both with the tone of the conversation as well as the topic of traveling inside or outside of Ireland, he is left not actually smiling, but trying to smile; reappearing also is the movement of Gabriel’s eyes, rather than a more noticeable physical movement or utterance of speech. This conversation, however, finally brings out Gabriel’s desire to leave, as he expresses to Miss Ivors, “I’m sick of my own country, sick of it! (190). As Gabriel’s partial paralysis is actualized in this point of the story for the reader as well as for Gabriel, Joyce’s mechanism through which he drives the notion of paralysis is introduced in the form of windows, which show both the reader as well as Gabriel what is offered inside, and what one can see but does not actually have, on the outside. Gabriel’s warm trembling fingers tapped the cold pane of the window. How cool it must be outside! How pleasant it would be to walk out alone, first along by the river and then through the park! The snow would be lying on the branches of trees and forming a bright cap on the top of the Wellington Monument. How much more pleasant it would be there than at the supper table! (192). As the reappearing reference to the Wellington Monument surfaces, so does the notion of going westward, both of which are realized through the frame of the window. The tension building up Gabriel’s desire for the outside world is emphasized, both on the way home from the party as well as once Gabriel and Gretta are settling into the closing of the novel. In one moment of emphasized tension by means of realization of paralysis in a window, the narrator points out, “He was standing with her in the cold, looking in through a grated window at a man making bottles in a roaring furnace. It was very cold” (214). The experience of this seemingly minor eye-witness account of a man working with a roaring furnace from the perspective of somebody freezing in the cold, with nothing but a window to separate the two extremities of experience, reifies the tension between being inside and outside through the opposition of hot and cold. Once in the final room of the novel, a new set of opposites are introduced and separated by the pane of a window, which relate more to Gabriel’s desire to leave than do hot and cold. Although he is temporarily happy with Gretta, Gabriel “crossed the room towards the window. He looked down into the street in order that his emotion might calm a little” (218). Instead of opposite temperatures on either side of a window, there are opposite emotions. As Gabriel’s tension and anxiety is high from his desire to rekindle his past love with Gretta, he purposely uses the window, or rather, the contents on the outside of the window, to calm him, to feel the opposite of what he is feeling. Finally, as the Wellington Monument’s second appearance in the text includes its snow-capped head gleaming westward, the lure of westward travel again appears via the opposite side of the window in relation to Gabriel: “A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window […] The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward” (225). A crucial aspect of this moment, aside from the actualization of the possibility for Gabriel to rid himself of the paralysis he often experiences, is the connection and realization between both sides of the window; Gabriel finally connects his ability to go with what he sees on the outside, rather than pair his paralysis with the outside, resulting in a lack of action, and an inhibited desire. So how much is paralysis in the window' Joyce embeds paralytic features in the different characters, allowing a realization of these features for the reader and eventually Gabriel through the tension of being inside or outside. The conundrum of inside and outside is made apparent by the way the windows work throughout the story, emphasizing what one has or where one is, and just as much emphasizing the opposite. Still, Gabriel’s possibility for mobility is realized through the final window, which creates a new form of tension all together: Do the windows maintain the paralysis, or show possibilities of movement' Instead of dwelling in the dichotomy of window operation, the importance lies in the fact that both operations work independently. As Gabriel’s interactions with the workings of the windows include both inhibitory and mobility-actualizing experiences, the window works therefore in both ways at separate times, holding him back in the state of paralysis, as well as freeing him from the clutches of his immobility in Dublin. All of this is made possible through the paralysis, in its grasp and through the realization it affords to Gabriel, in the windows. Works Cited Joyce, James. Dubliners. New York: Penguin, 1993.