I think one reason that Mitchell painted Jason's schoolteachers as extremely nasty is so they would later act as a contrast to the person who turns out to be a much more better teacher than any of the school teachers: Madame Commelynck. Her advice in regards to poetry, literature, and language have immediate impact on Stephen (translating that French book for example). Furthermore, like Hugo, she acts as a character that shows Stephen that its OK to write poems. Hugo does it by liking poetry *and* being cool. Madame Commelynck simple says screw everyone else, if they think you're gay for writing poems they're bafoons.
She's an interesting character because, while she seems very cultured and knowledgeable, when she started talking about living next to Charlie Chaplin and all those other famous people I felt a hint that she might not really be everything she makes herself out to be. I don't really have any concrete evidence... the whole situation just seems really weird. And then, to make things weirder, she gets extradited. Are you kidding me? Mitchell is totally playing with us.
"Hey, here's this cool character who's helping Jason with his poetry and overcome his inhibitions aaaaand she's extradited"
All in all, Solarium is kind of a weird chapter. We'll have to see how Jason responds to his short experience with a great teacher and how this effects his membership with the Spooks
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Friday, April 10, 2015
What did you bring me to keep me from the gallows pole?
Jason's personification of his stammer, Hangman, is another element of his colorful imagination (Millennium Falcon, ghost boy on the lake, etc.).
The personification is sort of haunting. The Hangman makes cruel decisions on his own, has his own commandments, and comes and goes as he pleases. He's almost biblical... When he's temporarily defeated by Ms. de Roo, she beats it using her "white magic". He seems to come at the worst times, and recedes when Jason's with Ms. de Roo. It's like... he knows. All of this is almost comical from our perspective, but from Jason's perspective this really is a haunting figure due to both how dangerous the Hangman can be socially and also probably just how annoying it is to have to change words so often.
We talked in class about how it was hinted at that Jason can't full suppress the hangman. When he is excused by the teacher from doing his vocal presentation, a classmate disappointingly asks if Jason will be doing a presentation the next week. The guys are just waiting for him to slip up and really screw up (rather than a short pause) in public. Later we see the hangman strike again in math class, where Jason has to look stupid in order to not stammer (this again shows how important social status is and how damaging stammering would be). All of this contributes to a sort of looming impending doom that this social situation presents.
The hangman presents a problem that must be solved. What will Jason bring to keep him from the gallows pole?
Also, an interesting fact... The Hangman comes from author David Mitchell's person experiences. "I try to cultivate a conviction which states this: "I may stammer on this word, yes, and I may look like I'm being strangled by an invisible man, but if that makes you uncomfortable, then that's 100% your problem and 0% mine."
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Sylvie...
The character of Sylvie is unique among any of the characters we've encountered so far in the sense that she doesn't explore philosophical or coming of age concepts (like Holden, Esther, etc.) but rather embodies some of those concepts herself.
Chapter 8, when Ruth is put in the position to experience Sylvie's world, and the subsequent fallout of that night, forces us to address how we feel about Sylvie--a detached transient-- raising two children. In doing so, Housekeeping forces you to think about your views on the nature of transience in the context of a rather rigidly formed society.
The question of where these transients fit into society, especially into the role of raising kids, is more difficult the more you attack it. On one hand, if children are raised under a strict "Home Ec Teacher" discipline, could this way of life be damaging to those children who are naturally "transient"? And if children are raised under a Sylvie discipline, could this way of life be damaging to those children who will find greatest happiness in order and stability?
Housekeeping might make the case that such questions are irrelevant. Sylvie did, after all, grow to live a transient lifestyle after spending her whole childhood. And Lucille did, after all, escape from Sylvie to find a more stable life. In fact, the grandfather could be another example, running from his childhood stability Iowan homeland. Perhaps, if the nature of transience (or lack of transience) is a natural part of a person (as the novel seems to imply), it doesn't really matter who raises you.
However, someone pointed out in class (I think Coleman) that it's easy to have transient people in a heavily structured world (a world where most people are "stable" or whatever), but it's harder (or impossible) to have structure in a world where most people are transient, because society relies on a vast network of people subscribing to the same set of ideals and such, but transience doesn't. Maybe that's part of where most of our inner uncomfort comes from the idea of Sylvie raising children. But mostly, I think it's because wasps and leaves in the corner and moldy, dripping couches is just kind of gross.
"It's about the immensely resourceful sadness of a certain kind of American, someone who has fallen out of history and is trying to invent a life without assistance of any kind, without even recognizing that there are precedents. It is about a woman who is so far from everyone else that it would be presumptuous to put a name to her frame of mind." -New York Times article on Housekeeping
Does Housekeeping really portray Sylvie (or Sylvie's type of person--a transient) as a sad concept? I suppose the whole letting the soggy couch dry on its own and sweeping leaves into the corner of the house might be there simply to make us go "ARG look at this sad was of living!", but classroom discussion on these subjects was generally much more forgiving and I certainly didn't feel that Housekeeping tried to completely paint transience in a negative light.
Chapter 8, when Ruth is put in the position to experience Sylvie's world, and the subsequent fallout of that night, forces us to address how we feel about Sylvie--a detached transient-- raising two children. In doing so, Housekeeping forces you to think about your views on the nature of transience in the context of a rather rigidly formed society.
The question of where these transients fit into society, especially into the role of raising kids, is more difficult the more you attack it. On one hand, if children are raised under a strict "Home Ec Teacher" discipline, could this way of life be damaging to those children who are naturally "transient"? And if children are raised under a Sylvie discipline, could this way of life be damaging to those children who will find greatest happiness in order and stability?
Housekeeping might make the case that such questions are irrelevant. Sylvie did, after all, grow to live a transient lifestyle after spending her whole childhood. And Lucille did, after all, escape from Sylvie to find a more stable life. In fact, the grandfather could be another example, running from his childhood stability Iowan homeland. Perhaps, if the nature of transience (or lack of transience) is a natural part of a person (as the novel seems to imply), it doesn't really matter who raises you.
However, someone pointed out in class (I think Coleman) that it's easy to have transient people in a heavily structured world (a world where most people are "stable" or whatever), but it's harder (or impossible) to have structure in a world where most people are transient, because society relies on a vast network of people subscribing to the same set of ideals and such, but transience doesn't. Maybe that's part of where most of our inner uncomfort comes from the idea of Sylvie raising children. But mostly, I think it's because wasps and leaves in the corner and moldy, dripping couches is just kind of gross.
"It's about the immensely resourceful sadness of a certain kind of American, someone who has fallen out of history and is trying to invent a life without assistance of any kind, without even recognizing that there are precedents. It is about a woman who is so far from everyone else that it would be presumptuous to put a name to her frame of mind." -New York Times article on Housekeeping
Does Housekeeping really portray Sylvie (or Sylvie's type of person--a transient) as a sad concept? I suppose the whole letting the soggy couch dry on its own and sweeping leaves into the corner of the house might be there simply to make us go "ARG look at this sad was of living!", but classroom discussion on these subjects was generally much more forgiving and I certainly didn't feel that Housekeeping tried to completely paint transience in a negative light.
Friday, March 6, 2015
Writing Styles and Other Stuff ("Another ramble")
The more I read Catcher in the Rye, the more I understood why it is seen as one of the great novels of the 20th century, specifically in American culture. It deserves all the credit it is given. I found Holden to be the most relatable character I've ever read. I also "understand" Holden better than just about any other character I've ever read (the only character I feel I understand more is Bob Slocum from Joseph Heller's "Something Happened", and that's probably because its 600 pages of stream of conscious instead of 250 pages of personal narration).The prose of Catcher is what makes it such a genius work. The story/plot itself isn't top-tier, and it shouldn't be. However, I think critics of Catcher may dismiss the plot too quickly. It's not like Holden is going to school for 200 pages. He's doing some pretty crazy things for a teenager. Going to bars, walking the streets alone, paying a prostitute, etc. If we had a book with a page turning, mechanically calculated, precise and stunning plot (Great Gatsby comes to mind as well as several Stephen King novels and some Fantasy novels), we would lose what makes Catcher Catcher.
I think if most authors tried to write the plot of Catcher, it wouldn't be that great. However, one of my favorite quotes by my second favorite Fantasy author Brandon Sanderson is something like "a terrible writer can take a genius plot and make it suck. A great writer can take a terrible plot and make it great". (Warning: slight tangent!) For an example, he used the fact that his friend got into an argument about what makes a great author. His friend's basic argument is that writing is mostly about mechanical skill, not crazy epiphanies and seemingly divine inspiration (sort of contrary to Stephen Daedelus, eh?). His friend then said something similar to the above quote, that great writers could turn a crappy idea into a great novel. The person he was arguing gave him a challenge: write a decent novel who's plot was based on two things: (1) Pokemon (2) The Roman Empire. Sanderson's friend took the bet and tried to write a novel. And he got published. I'll try to find the novel (I've found it before but have never got around to reading it).
I think JD Salinger is a perfect example of a great writer. This guy could literally narrate a baseball game in Holden's voice and I would love it (and so would millions of other people). He achieved a state of both commercial success and academic legitimacy, which I think is the hallmark of a great book (something that's not pulp fiction or purely academic jargon).
Plath's and Joyce's writing styles are also very good, but I don't think they're as universal as Salinger's. Well, maybe Joyce's was in his day. Ulysses, for example, still has some amazing lines.
Check out these two, for example, and see if they resonate with you.
The first is when Leopold is riding along in a carriage to a funeral, and there's this really awkward moment where another guy is talking about how bad suicide is (very bad for catholics) and he doesn't know that Leopold's dad killed himself. Anyways, during the ride Joyce drops this on us (it's a memory of Leopold's):
"That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blinds. The coroner's ears, big and hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep at first. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The Letter. For my son Leopold. No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns."
Jesus christ that's almost as emotionally heavy as Plath!
And an example of how he makes a newspaper machine interesting (and somewhat deep):
"Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost human the way it sllt to call attention. Doings its best to speak. That door too sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way Sllt."
Plath also has amazing prose for her heavy hitting, grey style. But I'm not sure if she's as universal of an author. I definitely wouldn't want to watch a baseball game narrated by Esther. It would probably just depress the hell out of me (GO AWAY HOLDEN!). The thing I like about Plath's prose it that it really does feel poetic. There's lots of imagery, colors, etc. I find it somewhat similar to White Boy Shuffle in that sense (although the tones are very different, I find the prose to be very poetic in both). Bell Jar definitely has a more complete plot than something like Catcher though.
So I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say with all this. Just that JD's prose is amazingly universal and that I think that the ability to write good prose and turn anything (such as pokemon in ancient rome) into good fiction is the defining trait of a good author.
I think if most authors tried to write the plot of Catcher, it wouldn't be that great. However, one of my favorite quotes by my second favorite Fantasy author Brandon Sanderson is something like "a terrible writer can take a genius plot and make it suck. A great writer can take a terrible plot and make it great". (Warning: slight tangent!) For an example, he used the fact that his friend got into an argument about what makes a great author. His friend's basic argument is that writing is mostly about mechanical skill, not crazy epiphanies and seemingly divine inspiration (sort of contrary to Stephen Daedelus, eh?). His friend then said something similar to the above quote, that great writers could turn a crappy idea into a great novel. The person he was arguing gave him a challenge: write a decent novel who's plot was based on two things: (1) Pokemon (2) The Roman Empire. Sanderson's friend took the bet and tried to write a novel. And he got published. I'll try to find the novel (I've found it before but have never got around to reading it).
I think JD Salinger is a perfect example of a great writer. This guy could literally narrate a baseball game in Holden's voice and I would love it (and so would millions of other people). He achieved a state of both commercial success and academic legitimacy, which I think is the hallmark of a great book (something that's not pulp fiction or purely academic jargon).
Plath's and Joyce's writing styles are also very good, but I don't think they're as universal as Salinger's. Well, maybe Joyce's was in his day. Ulysses, for example, still has some amazing lines.
Check out these two, for example, and see if they resonate with you.
The first is when Leopold is riding along in a carriage to a funeral, and there's this really awkward moment where another guy is talking about how bad suicide is (very bad for catholics) and he doesn't know that Leopold's dad killed himself. Anyways, during the ride Joyce drops this on us (it's a memory of Leopold's):
"That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blinds. The coroner's ears, big and hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep at first. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The Letter. For my son Leopold. No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns."
Jesus christ that's almost as emotionally heavy as Plath!
And an example of how he makes a newspaper machine interesting (and somewhat deep):
"Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost human the way it sllt to call attention. Doings its best to speak. That door too sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way Sllt."
Plath also has amazing prose for her heavy hitting, grey style. But I'm not sure if she's as universal of an author. I definitely wouldn't want to watch a baseball game narrated by Esther. It would probably just depress the hell out of me (GO AWAY HOLDEN!). The thing I like about Plath's prose it that it really does feel poetic. There's lots of imagery, colors, etc. I find it somewhat similar to White Boy Shuffle in that sense (although the tones are very different, I find the prose to be very poetic in both). Bell Jar definitely has a more complete plot than something like Catcher though.
So I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say with all this. Just that JD's prose is amazingly universal and that I think that the ability to write good prose and turn anything (such as pokemon in ancient rome) into good fiction is the defining trait of a good author.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Lady Lazarus Analysis
This is not a strict analysis but just some dotted thoughts. Feel free to comment your own thoughts or disagreements on any points I make.
Lady Lazarus feels like it belongs with Daddy. I don't mean that they cover the same subject, but that they feel like chapters in the same book. While Daddy illuminates facts about the narrator's life through the lens of talking about another person (her father), Lady Lazarus takes a much more direct approach.
It's mostly about suicide.
At the beginning:
"I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--"
What has she done again? A suicide attempt.
And then we have a few stanzas which show how... uneasy she is about herself? About life?
Lines such as: "A sort of walking miracle, my skin / Bright as a Nazi lampshade" Are certainly not positive feeling images. Sour breath, peeling skin, it all has a quality of death and uneasiness. Then she says "soon, soon the flesh / the grave cave at will be / at home on me", basically saying she's close to attempting suicide again. The "peanut crunching crowd" feels like it's Mr Gordon, "unwrapping" the narrator.
There's some dark humor halfway through: "Dying / is an art, like everything else / I do it exceptionally well". Of course we know she doesn't do it exceptionally well.
Crudely, in the second half of the poem the narrator talks about how she dreams(?) of committing suicide: burning herself alive ("Melts to a shriek / I turn and burn") and letting others find nothing left of her but ash and the jewelry she was wearing.
The last stanza also seems very important:
"Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air"
This sort of resembles the discomfort Esther has for men in a more extreme way. It feels like the whole red hair rising out of ash could be a allusion, or maybe she just used red hair because it relates to fire.
/ramblings
Lady Lazarus feels like it belongs with Daddy. I don't mean that they cover the same subject, but that they feel like chapters in the same book. While Daddy illuminates facts about the narrator's life through the lens of talking about another person (her father), Lady Lazarus takes a much more direct approach.
It's mostly about suicide.
At the beginning:
"I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it--"
What has she done again? A suicide attempt.
And then we have a few stanzas which show how... uneasy she is about herself? About life?
Lines such as: "A sort of walking miracle, my skin / Bright as a Nazi lampshade" Are certainly not positive feeling images. Sour breath, peeling skin, it all has a quality of death and uneasiness. Then she says "soon, soon the flesh / the grave cave at will be / at home on me", basically saying she's close to attempting suicide again. The "peanut crunching crowd" feels like it's Mr Gordon, "unwrapping" the narrator.
There's some dark humor halfway through: "Dying / is an art, like everything else / I do it exceptionally well". Of course we know she doesn't do it exceptionally well.
Crudely, in the second half of the poem the narrator talks about how she dreams(?) of committing suicide: burning herself alive ("Melts to a shriek / I turn and burn") and letting others find nothing left of her but ash and the jewelry she was wearing.
The last stanza also seems very important:
"Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air"
This sort of resembles the discomfort Esther has for men in a more extreme way. It feels like the whole red hair rising out of ash could be a allusion, or maybe she just used red hair because it relates to fire.
/ramblings
rambling thoughts about Esther's father's place in The Bell Jar
One of the main causes that triggered Esther's depression in the Bell Jar. Earlier in the novel she said the last happy moment of her life was when she was running along the beach with her father. She was about 9 years old at the time.
In chapter 13 when Esther visits her fathers grave she states that neither she nor her mother cried over her father's death. Her mother didn't even allow her children to attend her father's funeral. This sort of... repression of emotion is certainly a huge cause of Esther's depression later in the novel. It's almost as if her mother tried burying this sad emotion by pushing it down in water, and now it's bobbing back up to the surface in the form of depression. As Plath writes in her poem Daddy: "Daddy, I have tried to kill you."
Esther says her father came from "some manic-depressive hamlet in the black heart of Prussia" and we also saw her view the German language as a dark and barbed language. Her mother describes her father as being a "bitter atheist" towards the end of his life. In her poem Daddy, Plath writes:
"I have always been scared of you
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--"
Which supports the dark picture of an authoritarian father.
Oddly, this might not seem to line up with the fact that Esther was clearly happier when her father was alive. Obviously I'm comparing Plath's poem and her novel and assuming the father is the same in both, thought that doesn't necessarily have to be the case.
Part of me wonders if he himself was depressed. It would certainly fit the dark picture of a bitter man, and the "manic-depressive hamlet in the black heart of Prussia" is impossible to ignore. Furthermore, serious depression can be genetic, so Esther's own depression is further evidence that her father may have been depressed. I'd be willing to bet a lot that he was depressed.
Do we ever get the exact reason he died? All I remember and all I can find by re-reading certain chapters is that he was admitted to the hospital and died there. However, there is a very interesting line that gives us some clues. In chapter 13 Esther is thinking about her mother's handling of the situation (her father's death):
"She had just smiled and said what a merciful thing it was for him he had died, because if he had lived he would have been crippled and an invalid for life, and he couldn't have stood that, he would rather have died than had that happen."
My theory is that he shot himself and then died later at the hospital. Or maybe he was never admitted to the hospital (I can't remember if Esther visited him there or not. If not it's possible he succeeded in killing himself instantly). Think about it. Just a little while ago we were on the beach and Esther was talking with that other dude about suicide. What was the "man's way" to kill yourself? Gunshot. What was Esther specifically worried about in regards to shotgun suicide? Not shooting the right place (blowing your face off, something not necessarily fatal) and having surgeons save you. What if her father--who we have strong evidence was depressed--had tried to kill himself ("crippled and invalid") and had later died at the hospital? Her mother didn't want her kids at the funeral. Why? She didn't want them to find out their father tried to kill himself. Further evidence for this theory or evidence against it would be greatly appreciated.
So this blog wasn't very well organized or anything, but I have a lot of things to think about and possibly a basis for a critical analysis paper, so I'll call it a success!
In chapter 13 when Esther visits her fathers grave she states that neither she nor her mother cried over her father's death. Her mother didn't even allow her children to attend her father's funeral. This sort of... repression of emotion is certainly a huge cause of Esther's depression later in the novel. It's almost as if her mother tried burying this sad emotion by pushing it down in water, and now it's bobbing back up to the surface in the form of depression. As Plath writes in her poem Daddy: "Daddy, I have tried to kill you."
Esther says her father came from "some manic-depressive hamlet in the black heart of Prussia" and we also saw her view the German language as a dark and barbed language. Her mother describes her father as being a "bitter atheist" towards the end of his life. In her poem Daddy, Plath writes:
"I have always been scared of you
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--"
Which supports the dark picture of an authoritarian father.
Oddly, this might not seem to line up with the fact that Esther was clearly happier when her father was alive. Obviously I'm comparing Plath's poem and her novel and assuming the father is the same in both, thought that doesn't necessarily have to be the case.
One interesting way I think the poem and the novel line up is that the last line of the poem: "Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through." echoes Esther's mental state after visiting her father's gravestone because the very next scene is her pill ingestion suicide.
Do we ever get the exact reason he died? All I remember and all I can find by re-reading certain chapters is that he was admitted to the hospital and died there. However, there is a very interesting line that gives us some clues. In chapter 13 Esther is thinking about her mother's handling of the situation (her father's death):
"She had just smiled and said what a merciful thing it was for him he had died, because if he had lived he would have been crippled and an invalid for life, and he couldn't have stood that, he would rather have died than had that happen."
My theory is that he shot himself and then died later at the hospital. Or maybe he was never admitted to the hospital (I can't remember if Esther visited him there or not. If not it's possible he succeeded in killing himself instantly). Think about it. Just a little while ago we were on the beach and Esther was talking with that other dude about suicide. What was the "man's way" to kill yourself? Gunshot. What was Esther specifically worried about in regards to shotgun suicide? Not shooting the right place (blowing your face off, something not necessarily fatal) and having surgeons save you. What if her father--who we have strong evidence was depressed--had tried to kill himself ("crippled and invalid") and had later died at the hospital? Her mother didn't want her kids at the funeral. Why? She didn't want them to find out their father tried to kill himself. Further evidence for this theory or evidence against it would be greatly appreciated.
So this blog wasn't very well organized or anything, but I have a lot of things to think about and possibly a basis for a critical analysis paper, so I'll call it a success!
Friday, January 30, 2015
Cranly
Of all the characters that Stephen interacts with in Portrait, Cranly is the most interesting. He also ends up having an importance influence on Stephen towards the end of the novel.
The first time we meet Cranly (other than the roll-call in the classroom), he is almost ironically acting the comic character, questioning and answering Stephen in Latin. Cranly never seemed to be the bubbling, bouncy, smiling character even when he had his funny moments (and is described as "brooding", "sour", "bitter", "watchful", etc. to give us this impression). Later we see that Cranly acts the complete opposite--when he overemphasizes his annoyance by shouting/screaming/shoving (Temple on multiple occasions and then the portly kid who farts on the steps). I don't think Cranly is actually that angry (his "victims" always seem to be in good humor, maybe he acts like that a lot and they know he isn't really all that angry). Which again, makes him an almost comical character.
The main impression I got from Cranly is that he was the most mature student at the college. He sort of has this attitude like "Cmon guys, seriously?" over a lot of things that he finds petty. For example when Maccan and Stephen are sparring over the Tsar's peace petition paper, Cranly is sort of like "Are you guys serious? Can't get go play handball? etc.". Later when Cranly and Stephen are talking, Cranly acts as the voice of maturity and reason when he calls Stephen out on his babyish behavior regarding Stephen serving in church service. Stephen doesn't want to out of principle or whatever, and Cranly again has that "C'mon, seriously?" vibe going on. "Just do it dude, it's a small act... it wont kill you, it will make your mom happy" etc.
In class it was briefly mentioned that Cranly served the purpose of trying to bring out a little humanity in Stephen, and I think that adding this element to his character really gives him a lot more depth.
"Have you ever loved anyone?"
"I ask if you even felt love towards anyone or anything".
"Your mother must have gone through a good deal of suffering. Would you not try to save her from suffering more even if... or would you?"
"Do as she wishes you to do. What is it for you?"
Cranley asks Stephen.
These sort of questions only act to reaffirm Cranly's maturity.
The first time we meet Cranly (other than the roll-call in the classroom), he is almost ironically acting the comic character, questioning and answering Stephen in Latin. Cranly never seemed to be the bubbling, bouncy, smiling character even when he had his funny moments (and is described as "brooding", "sour", "bitter", "watchful", etc. to give us this impression). Later we see that Cranly acts the complete opposite--when he overemphasizes his annoyance by shouting/screaming/shoving (Temple on multiple occasions and then the portly kid who farts on the steps). I don't think Cranly is actually that angry (his "victims" always seem to be in good humor, maybe he acts like that a lot and they know he isn't really all that angry). Which again, makes him an almost comical character.
The main impression I got from Cranly is that he was the most mature student at the college. He sort of has this attitude like "Cmon guys, seriously?" over a lot of things that he finds petty. For example when Maccan and Stephen are sparring over the Tsar's peace petition paper, Cranly is sort of like "Are you guys serious? Can't get go play handball? etc.". Later when Cranly and Stephen are talking, Cranly acts as the voice of maturity and reason when he calls Stephen out on his babyish behavior regarding Stephen serving in church service. Stephen doesn't want to out of principle or whatever, and Cranly again has that "C'mon, seriously?" vibe going on. "Just do it dude, it's a small act... it wont kill you, it will make your mom happy" etc.
In class it was briefly mentioned that Cranly served the purpose of trying to bring out a little humanity in Stephen, and I think that adding this element to his character really gives him a lot more depth.
"Have you ever loved anyone?"
"I ask if you even felt love towards anyone or anything".
"Your mother must have gone through a good deal of suffering. Would you not try to save her from suffering more even if... or would you?"
"Do as she wishes you to do. What is it for you?"
Cranley asks Stephen.
These sort of questions only act to reaffirm Cranly's maturity.
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