Great stuff, both of you. I don't know why, but it floors me to know about 'gnomon.' I thought it wasn't worth looking it up, but the fact that the sundial shadow has a name like that seems to have a significance even if I can't directly relate it to the story. On the boy's ambivalence about Father Flynn, I noted that after the priest's death, the boy says he felt a sense of freedom, but it was a sense that "annoyed" him, in keeping with an overall ambivalence.Saffron wrote:. The darkness I feel from the words "paralysis" and "gnomon" come from the association to death and the fear of death. I assumed Father Flynn was paralyzed by the stroke (his 3rd), so it is descriptive of his actual condition as well a building block of the story. When I looked up the word "gnomon" (it is the little triangle or shape that the light of the sun falls on to create the shadow on a sundial to point at the time) I immediately thought of a ghost pointing the way - a foreshadowing of the death and maybe the role of Father Flynn in the boys life. Let me just say, I am aware that I may have over thought this.
I found it strange that neither I nor the day seemed in a mourning mood and I felt even annoyed at discovering in myself a sensation of freedom as if I had been freed from something by his death. I wondered at this for, as my uncle had said the night before, he had taught me a great deal. He had studied in the Irish college in Rome and he had taught me to pronounce Latin properly. He had told me stories about the catacombs and about Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained to me the meaning of the different ceremonies of the Mass...
About the attitudes of Cotter and the uncle toward the priest, it might be that some men, especially, held an unfavorable view of the priesthood as a being too caught up in meaningless doctrine or speculation. Just because the Church was powerful in Ireland doesn't mean that it was beloved.
That's what I like, a person demanding to know something! Can I deliver? Uh, sorry. Not on 1 and 2, at least. The simplest explanation is that the boy dreams because the adults implied that Flynn had done something wrong, and the dream represents the boy's unsuccessful attempt to know what paralyzed priest had done. It's incongruous that the paralyzed priest can smile (and why would he be smiling?), but dreams don't make sense (contra Freud). And the boy smiles back at him, actually has a smile on his face, wanting to absolve the priest of his sin of simony. Who knows, maybe the theory Old cotter had does relate to why Flynn committed some specific impropriety, but the scene at the end with the sisters doesn't seem to support that. Damn this Joyce, why couldn't he make it easier for us? Did he know that there would be book clubs like this and he'd have to give them what they paid for? That brings me to the title. The only answer I have (weak) is that the sisters' lives were devoted to the care and maintenance of their brother, who unlike them had been able to attain a position of some prestige, whereas they remained poor and uneducated. So the story is not theirs, but the effect of the Irish social system fell most heavily on them. That's all I got.Now here is what I want to know:
1. I with Geo: What the heck does the dream mean?
2. What is the supposed simoniac sin that Father Flynn committed? Are there clues in the story?
3. Why did Joyce name the story "The Sisters", why, why, why? (The sisters express only pity and kindness toward their brother and imply that he has been wronged).
But I am pleased to have picked up on some humor I'd missed. Imagine this story as a film, and there wouldn't be a way to avoid chuckling at such parts as:
and"Father O'Rourke was in with him a Tuesday and anointed him and prepared him and all."
"He knew then?"
"He was quite resigned."
"He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.
"That's what the woman we had in to wash him said. She said he just looked as if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and resigned. No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse."
"Yes, indeed," said my aunt.
and"Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You wouldn't hear him in the house any more than now.
The word I'm coming back to that describes the story is "haunting." The old priest in the confessional, softly laughing to himself, juxtaposed with the scene in the sisters' sitting room, the coffin upstairs containing the "truculent"-looking priest, is kinda spooky, is definitely that way for the boy.If we could only get one of them new-fangled carriages that makes no noise that Father O'Rourke told him about, them with the rheumatic wheels, for the day cheap--he said,
One comment I read on this story said that in the latter part of it, the boy withdraws. We had been prepared in the early going for his reflections on all of the action, but at the sister's house he is mostly silent. I don't agree with that view. In the presence of adults, and on such an occasion as the first death experienced, the boy says about as much as is natural. And he has the important observation at the very end:
I agree with geo that the creepy/weird quality of the story makes it fascinating and helps it be a very good one indeed.She stopped suddenly as if to listen. I too listened; but there was no sound in the house: and I knew that the old priest was lying still in his coffin as we had seen him, solemn and truculent in death, an idle chalice on his breast.