The Dead in Never too Late to Read Classics

Sep 29, 2023 Sara rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: aging, short-stories-novellas, kindle-purchase, death, marriage, ireland

This is a short story that leaves you almost paralyzed by the time you come to its end. It is like a symphony, changing mood and direction unexpectedly but with a seamless flow, which is appropriate because so much of it is wrapped in music and it is a musical interlude that pushes it to its climax and revelation.

The story takes place at a New Year’s Eve party thrown by two aging women. I was mesmerized by the descriptions of both the people at the party and the intimacy Joyce is able to convey This is a short story that leaves you almost paralyzed by the time you come to its end. It is like a symphony, changing mood and direction unexpectedly but with a seamless flow, which is appropriate because so much of it is wrapped in music and it is a musical interlude that pushes it to its climax and revelation.

The story takes place at a New Year’s Eve party thrown by two aging women. I was mesmerized by the descriptions of both the people at the party and the intimacy Joyce is able to convey in such a short piece. Gabriel and Greta are a married couple who are part of the group, and as the story begins to focus on them we are swept into Gabriel’s idea of who they are and what they mean to one another. As is so often true in life, the idea and the reality are not always the same.

He longed to recall to her those moments, to make her forget the years of their dull existence together and remember only their moments of ecstasy.

There seems to be little difference between the dead and the living in the story. In some ways, the dead who are mentioned in stories and memories seem more alive, more vibrant and engaged than the party members, who seem so often to be simply biding time and fighting change.

...there are always in gatherings such as this sadder thoughts that will recur to our minds: thoughts of the past, of youth, of changes, of absent faces that we miss here tonight.

Perhaps it is inevitable that those who continue in life look back and see their youths as brighter, bold and somehow better. Does that happen primarily because the intensity of feeling has faded with the loss of those who shared the memories with us? Or is it because we see ourselves, and those of our age, slowly disappearing as well?

One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.

It is difficult to answer these questions or to know how we can hold on to the ardor when we have lost the innocence.

This might be one of the most poignant expressions of what it is to love, to yearn, and to come upon a full-view of self awareness, that has ever been written. It is beautiful; it is sad; and yet it is hopeful. It may be perfection.
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