As actors or members in an ensemble drama, women are omnipresent in Joyce's literary corpus. Among the Dubliners, for example, women are painted and developed in a variety of character settings. The reader is exposed to the woman as a sister (like the Moran sisters in "The Dead"), as a young girl (Eveline), as an ethereal object of a boy's first affection (like Mangan's sister in "Araby") , as such an innocent non-temptress (like Polly in "The Boarding House"), and as a character devastated by grief (Mrs. Sinico in "A Painful Case", perhaps driven to suicide by unrequited love). Because he follows what appears to be a taxonomy or veritable checklist of female archetypes, Joyce's depictions of women have led feminist critics, such as Suzette Henke and Elaine Unkeless in their work Women in Joyce, to criticize him his “tendency to interpret female characters symbolically. Although abundant, these feminized “hats”, these different characters, are the product of an interpretation through a masculine lens. These are roles assigned by the dominant male "other" or character profiles culturally demanded by the larger patriarchal framework at play. As universal images, these women are defined by how they act with or impress the men in their lives, sacrificed to their function as an archetypal character to serve a masculine figure. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay For example, Gretta Conroy has a profound emotional experience in "The Dead" when she recalls a painful memory, a lost love, a cruelly fleeting window for a happiness that has not not been carried out. Because it is so intensely charged with the searing flames of raw emotion, this moment elicits in the reader an immediate indirect reaction that parallels Gretta's deep despondency. However, this intimate glimpse into Gretta's past, a chapter in the story of her development, is usurped by her husband, Gabriel. No longer an extension or defining event of her personality, Gretta's memory is purged of its sentimental significance as it relates to her. Rather, her surprising revelation, co-opted by her male counterpart, is reworked into a tool for his benefit, a revelation that launches her epiphany. The focus of the story and the reader's primary attention shifts from Gretta to Gabriel, to concerns about the possibility of his new personal growth or the tragic continuation of his emotional paralysis. As a result of this process, Gretta's identity is erased; removed from the context provided by her husband, she is a non-entity. However, I argue that not all of Joyce's female characters are victims of this symbolic representation. In the works of James Joyce, the woman makes her greatest impression, where the reader is more touched by her unique and authentic interiority, once he connects and fully embraces his sexuality. If we trace the trajectory of Joyce's character from an early figure like Eveline, a young girl frozen in a state of stunted personal, sexual, and emotional growth, to her epic novel Ulysses and her final voice in Molly Bloom, we begin to see a correlation between the expression and appropriation of one's sexual nature, and the development of a distinct and powerful feminine personality. In her eponymous episode in Dubliners, Eveline suffers from a sense of identity compromised by the suppression of a budding sexuality. Eveline is a sort of mini-tragedy of the individualfully realized. Solidity and stability do not yet exist with the nerve of Eveline's interiority. She has not yet had the chance to be touched by the powerful balm of life's experiences, both the good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet. Like healing waters, the exciting rewards and painful disappointments inherent in risk-taking would wash over Eveline if she ever took a leap into the unknown to repair her fractured interior and add substance to her being. An empty host, she has internalized the expectations imposed on her by the patriarchal social context of her time and place. She was forced to take on the role of matriarch of the household when her mother died, tending to the needs of her demanding younger siblings. She has been relegated to a typical job, an essential part of Dublin society, and her position as a shop assistant offers her little gratification or stimulation: "she wouldn't cry many tears when she left the shops." Now ready to challenge the limits of this cookie-cutter life, of this paralyzing existence, she dares to explore “another life with Frank”, her lover. Eveline is a girl on the verge of femininity, on the threshold of definition and entry into life. his adult personality. In Frank and the life he would surely offer, in these symbols of new possibilities, rebirth and liberation, lie the keys that will allow Eveline to discover her authentic self. She was initially drawn to Frank because he presented a welcome break from the all-consuming dilapidation of her home life. She saw something mysterious in him, something seductive and exciting in being so foreign: at first it had been a turn-on for her to have a man, then she had begun to to like. He told her stories about faraway lands... He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt delighted as she sat with him in an unusual part of the theater. Perhaps Eveline aspired to become Frank's 'Bohemian Girl', to discover other 'Unusual Girls' parts' of the larger, cosmopolitan world just beyond the River Liffey. However, at the crucial moment of action, of forward movement, Eveline steps back, seized by her paralysis. She does not board the boat from Dublin, heading to Buenos Aires, the city of “good air” symbolizing hope and optimism. She does not honor the true desires that Frank aroused in her. Ironically, she reverses his image: once considering him as her savior, Eveline begins to describe him as an agent of death and destruction: “All the seas of the world have collapsed around his heart. He attracted her: he would drown her. She contradicts herself verbally in other ways, betraying her anxious state of indecision and uncertainty. For example, the current life of mundane domesticity and hard work that she had so ridiculed earlier begins to seem comforting in its familiarity: "It was a hard life...but now that she was on the point of leaving her, she did not find her totally undesirable. » This difference in attitude is explained by a toxic mix of panic, ambivalence, nervousness and guilt, fueled by the tacit expectations of his socio-political environment. This cocktail of fears – fear of change, fear of the unknown, fear of sexual independence – poisons Eveline's nascent development from within. The new emotions and impulses unleashed by Frank, the way Eveline found herself “pleasantly confused” in his presence, are both exciting and threatening, thrilling and unsettling. Because the opportunity to become a more secure and fully developed person presents itself at this crossroads of sexual maturity, it is suppressionor the very denial of her sexuality which gives Eveline a fractured identity, preventing her from achieving freedom and fullness in her life. personality. For Eveline to seriously consider herself as a sexual being, as a woman, she would have to define herself as an entity distinct from her family unit. She would finally detach herself from the obligations linked to the haunting memory of her dying mother, from an archaic and obsolete promise to maintain the home in its place. Eveline will finally defy the strict authority of her father, who “had discovered our affair [with Frank] and had forbidden her from having anything to say to him”. Therefore, because she cannot honor her sexual feelings for Frank, recognize them, and use them as motivation to change, she has no basis on which to build her true self. Eveline's insecurity, the socially constructed gender role that she hates and preserves, obscures her ability to accept the "specialization" of her identity marked by her growing sexual nature. Tragic consequence: she finds herself locked in, paralyzed, in a “symbolic” mode of identification. Because she does not express or connect with her sexuality, she will never free herself from a representative existence. However, for a woman to fully embrace her true sexuality, she must do more than just behave in a sexual manner. As Odysseus' prostitutes illustrate, the overt and pointed display of his sexual "disposition," although in opposition to Eveline's restraint, still fails to contribute to the cultivation of a fulfilled self. In his epic Ulysses, more particularly the “Circe” In this chapter, James Joyce explores another dimension of the profile of the female character. If Eveline is the symbolic virgin in her representation as a perpetual saleswoman, the prostitutes of Nighttown are the misguided saleswomen. Another element of the taxonomy of the feminine archetype, these women operate at the other end of the sexual spectrum. Characters such as Zoe Higgins, Florry Talbot and Kitty Ricketts are ostensibly in control of their own bodies, aware and accepting of themselves as sexual creatures. They are well versed in the explicit language of vulgar and obscene sex associated with the brothel. Zoé speaks thus to Léopold Bloom, asking him "How are you", or telling him when he decides to abstain from the carnal pleasure she offers him: Honest? See you next time. Suppose you get up on the wrong side of the bed or come too quickly with your best friend. O, I can read your mind! She is bold in her sexual conduct with Bloom: she “bites his ear gently,” “slips [her hand] close to his left thigh,” and “links his arm, cuddling him with supple warmth.” “However, brazen sexual behavior does not necessarily lead to the construction of a complete and independent woman. For these girls, their sexuality is always in the possession of the masculine other, defined and structured through a masculine point of view. It is exploited as a tool still external to the woman herself. The whore is not a person. She is, as Bloom puts it, “a necessary evil,” both valorized and ridiculed as a bargaining chip to be used in the transactions and negotiations of the masculine world of sexual commodification. Clearly objectified, paste to be manipulated in the image of the patriarchy, the women of Nighttown do not own their sexuality because they do not choose when to exercise it, nor do they discriminate in a discriminatory manner with whom to share their bodies. They are locked into a job, the “oldest job in the world,” where sex is just a way to earn a living. Sexuality is not an expression of individualism and is not integrated into an identity profile. Here, sexuality is just a survival strategy.For Circe's prostitutes, their identity is lost to their position as pawns (as opposed to designers or bounty-setters) of a lucrative market. Zoe, Florry, Kitty and the stereotypical woman they represent are not figures of sexual liberation. Ironically, the only female character in Circe who enjoys sexual freedom, or the ability to dominate and have her needs met, is Bella Cohen, the brothel manager. Although she participates in a sexualized economy, Bella does not sell her own products in the marketplace. She rather fits into a masculine context as a regulator, as an administrator of this trade. Bella is therefore an unfeminine woman, a point reinforced by the fact that she transforms into a man during one of Leopold Bloom's hallucinatory episodes. As Bello Cohen, Bella has the privilege of being sexually demanding, playing with her sexuality and using it to satisfy her inner desires. He/she is the master, the dominator in the sexual exchange, and as a feminized man, Bloom fulfills the role of "submissive." In this way, Bellan is not gendered as "woman" and is not subject to the same character expectations—she does not need to conform to the same patriarchal norms—as the prostitutes she supervises. It is only through the form of a man, stripped of her feminine trappings and her identity thus compromised, that Bella/o can claim ownership of sexuality. Because Circe's prostitutes do not reconcile their sexuality with their femininity, because they simply play the role of a sexualized object in order to satisfy a social obligation, their chances of forming a fully realized self are fatally limited. The feminine archetypes of the Dubliners and Odysseus, such as Eveline and the ladies of Nighttown, emphasize the importance of perception in the process of identity formation and establishment. As defined by the dominant male critical lens, “woman” is simply a byproduct of ideology. The reader is given very little of her inner monologue, and when her inner thoughts are revealed (as in Eveline's case), they echo patriarchal beliefs so closely that they read like a soundtrack to a rather social context. as a true expression of desire. and emotion. In Ulysses, the settings and situations are rather masculine, with the majority of the "action" of the story taking place in the male arena, in distinctly gendered microcosms such as a bar (the sphere of leisure), a frenetic newspaper office (the sphere of leisure). the workplace), a car filled exclusively with men (the sphere of community) and a nighttime brothel (the spheres of commodification, economics and sex combined). Because the inner thoughts of Circe's daughters remain silent and hidden, the only powerful statements they make, the only character definitions available to the reader, are dictated by the impressions of the other male. There is no opportunity or space provided for the development of the authentic female self as we, as audience members, are offered a character projection rather than a fleshed out portrait. It is only when the reader can see or experience a Joycean woman from the inside out that interiority is established. It is only when we witness thoughts and opinions so far outside the bounds of social acceptability that their very incongruity arouses surprise, that we come to regard an inner monologue as honest and true. As soon as the window of perception is ceded to the feminine, sexuality becomes integrated into the personality. Mistress and sole owner of her sexual nature, this “new virile woman” is so confident in her possession that she shapes and strengthens thestrength of his own identity, as best exemplified by Molly Bloom and the “Penelope” chapter of Ulysses. “realm of the masculine” that functions as a textual backdrop for the course of the novel, the reader is initially limited to an understanding of Molly as gender embodied. She is presented to the reader as a figure comfortably slumped in bed, a clear symbol of sexual intercourse. Because Bloom associates sounds that resemble the way "the copper blades of the bed frame jingled", such as the "ringing of the harnesses" (which makes "a warm human roundness settle" on his brain) or the " Clinking of hooves.” » heard on Grafton Street, with Molly, her very character is confused with the imagery of the “bed”. Because the figure of "Molly in bed" is so omnipresent in Bloom's thoughts, and because it is at least the co-dominant perspective through which the novel is filtered, this sexually charged presentation becomes the defining pattern of Molly. the various characters, a truly motley crew of men, work in tandem to reinforce this skewed and sexualized image of Molly Bloom. In volume 10, Lenehan remembers a memorable moment with Molly. Driving with her and Leopold after a dinner, Lenehan was only too excited to be in close contact with the voluptuous Molly. Lenehan's dialogue and gestures make it clear that he views Molly as an object and that her value lies in the arousal potential of her corporeal possessions: every jerk the damn car gave, I made her bump into me. The delights of hell! She has a beautiful pair, God bless her. Like that. He held his cavernous hands a cubit away from Him, frowning: I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time. Do you see what I mean? His hands drew ample curves of air. He closed his eyes in joy, his body shrank and breathed a soft warble from his lips. She's a gamey mare and that's no mistake. Lenehan is one of many men who are "lost" or delighted by Molly's "Milky Way." The anonymous citizen of the "Cyclops" chapter, for example, also comments on his physicality, cementing his identity as an almost pornographic art object: "The big pile he (Bloom) married is a pretty old phenomenon that turns his head back. like a ball alley. » However, Molly Bloom breaks the glass cage of the feminine archetype to which her male viewers would like to relegate her, to which her literary predecessors were consigned, precisely because she affirms what her counterparts fundamentally lacked. Even though she is spoken of as a toy, as fodder for the benefit and arousal of men, Molly is not an object. She is not an empty vessel intended to perpetuate traditional gender roles, nor a tool in the service of the dominant male. Her self-concept is internally motivated and not conditioned by patriarchal ideals, marked by powerful sexual awareness and freedom of expression. Molly is aware of the effect she has on men and participates consciously, autonomously and equally in the ongoing sexual power play. She has enough experience with men to know the way they think, act and feel when in the throes of sexual desire, and has developed an arsenal of her own tricks to increase their arousal. Her "intelligence, a kind of cunning and intuition that allows one to see through men's pretensions", makes her aware of the games they play, as she engages in similar sexual strategies. For example, as she says to herself during her wonderfully intimate and revealing monologue at the end of the novel:….you want to fumble with a man, they're not all like him (Boylan) Thank God, someof them want you for being so nice about it, I noticed the contrast he makes and doesn't speak, I gave my eyes that seem with my hair a little loose because of the fall and my tongue between my lips up to him the wild brute... Molly is open with herself about the pleasure she gleans from sexual encounters with men, and is unapologetic about her behavior and need of sex, as suggested by the blatantly frank way in which she recalls her experiences: I wish he (Boylan) was here or that someone would let me go with him and come back like that I feel all the fire in me or if I could dream it when he made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind with his finger I came for about 5 minutes with my legs around him I had to hug him after (.) Molly can choose when to assert or exercise her sexuality - she can be fun and playful with this side of herself. She does not need to perform sexual acts out of obligation, locked into a "profession" as Circe's prostitutes are, or to adhere, helplessly and subserviently, to the demands of a particular social paradigm. Rather, sexuality is an extension, a reflection of Molly's complex and multidimensional interiority. It is, however, the outlet through which Molly's distinct identity floods, for it is the one exercise of personality that is most particularly interested in her true interests and desires. Critics have argued that Molly is herself a stereotype of female sexuality, a projection of a male sexuality. fantasy describing the seductive and sexually voracious woman. For example, Bruce Williams, in his article "Molly Bloom: Archetype or Stereotype", writes: Molly Bloom is not the embodiment of what a woman is, but of what a man is, at least in a society sexist, would like it to be. -a warm body lying in bed and moaning “yes”. It represents a kind of wishful thinking that men do when confronted with the disturbing facts of women's humanity to convince themselves that humanity is peripheral and not essentially "feminine." Joyce hasn't so much created a real woman... rather he has the reflection of a thousand stories of smoking cars. Molly is the eternal male fantasy, the insatiable woman - the sexual gold mine just waiting for the lucky prospector to sink her shaft. However, I believe that Molly does indeed demonstrate well-defined humanity and character on many levels. Because she does not embody singular traits, because she does not simply capture the extremes reinforced by feminine stereotypes, Molly is not someone the reader can easily dismiss. The words (or thoughts) she expresses are original and legitimized by sobering wisdom and sincere emotion. A palpable sincerity flows like an undercurrent through the deluge that is his final “sexual monologue,” lending great meaning to his experiences and toning down the hyperbole of his overt sexual expressions. Molly thus avoids the pitfall of caricature, the idiotic and insubstantial image of the vain memories of her male companions. For example, she wonders: (…) why can't you kiss a man without going to marry him first you sometimes love madly when you feel like that so nice all over you you can't help it I wish some man or other would take me sometimes when he is there and kiss me in his arms, there is nothing like a long hot kiss till your soul that almost paralyzes you then (.) Although fully aware of the way men objectify her, Molly is not complacent in playing in this subordinate role when she really cares, when it is more than just her body that is invested in the relationship. She admits she was disappointed.