Author: Swati

  • A Painful Case by James Joyce: Summary and Review

    A Painful Case by James Joyce: Summary and Review

    Friendship between man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse.

    If you thought this was straight from the Meg Ryan-movie When Harry met Sally, you are as wrong as I was. This is a quote from a short story A Painful Case by famed Irish author James Joyce. 

    This was featured in his short story collection called Dubliners, first published in 1914.

    A Painful Case: Summary and Plot Analysis

    The story revolves around a middle-aged man, Mr.Duffy, who lives a basic but organized life in Chapelizod. He is a man who worships routine – goes to the same restaurants, does the same daily commute, and occasional visits to opera or concerts.

    He doesn’t have friends and only visits relatives occasionally, mainly at Christmas or funerals.

    On one of his visits to the opera, he strikes up a conversation with a Mrs. Sinico, another audience member, whom her daughter accompanied.

    After several such engagements, Mr. Duffy sets a time and place to meet Mrs. Sinico.

    It turns out Mrs. Sinico’s husband is a Merchant navy captain and is away from home for long periods. Her being married makes Mr. Duffy uncomfortable carrying on their engagements, but he does so regardless, at her home.

    Mr. Sinico assumes his visits to be merely an attempt to court their daughter and doesn’t have the slightest clue that it’s his wife who is of interest to Mr.Duffy.

    Mr Duffy and Mrs Sinico continue to meet until one day, when Mrs. Sinico betrays her emotions by holding his hand to her cheek. Mr Duffy,not used to display of affection such as this, retracts, feeling that Mrs. SInico misinterpreted their companionship. He cuts off the relationship, by stopping his visits, and meeting Mrs. Sinico one final time – in a neutral territory, a cake shop. He breaks it off and Mrs Sinico’s emotional response to such a news makes him uncomfortable and he leaves quickly.

    Mr. Duffy and Mrs. Sinico continue to meet until one day when Mrs. Sinico betrays her emotions by holding his hand to her cheek. 

    Mr. Duffy, not used to the display of affection such as this, retracts, feeling that Mrs. Sinico misinterpreted their companionship. 

    He cuts off the relationship by stopping his visits and meeting Mrs. Sinico one final time – in neutral territory, a cake shop. He breaks it off, and Mrs. Sinico’s emotional response to such news makes him uncomfortable. He leaves quickly.

    He goes back to living his organized, monotonous life. 

    Four years later, one evening, while having dinner, he reads a newspaper article. Surprised, he stops eating and hurries home. 

    The article mentions a painful case. The case of a woman, a Mrs. Sinico, who was hit by a train at a Dublin railway station. 

    The coroner’s investigation and witness accounts corroborate that her death would have been more because of mental pains than physical. 

    Over the last two years, she had grown increasingly distant from her husband and turned to alcohol. 

    Noone was deemed responsible for her death.

    A Painful Case: Review, Quotes and My Thoughts

    My knee-jerk reaction to reading this was to brand Mr. Duffy – a lunatic, if not an as**ole.

    Why would you let go of something so special to you? 

    Why would you deny yourself shade in the desert? 

    And why would you shy away from the company that makes you feel alive and engaged?

    At first glance, he did seem like someone with a severe commitment phobia. But not surprisingly, the guy has a layered personality. How could he be cozy with someone else if he looks at himself from a distance?

    He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts, with doubtful side glances.

    He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time, a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a predicate in the past tense.

    The more I re-read, the more I felt sorry for him.

    He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without communion with others, visiting his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when they died.

    Now, I tried to seek solace in that he liked to do that; he liked to be alone. Human company to him was like the plague. He would rather be by himself and live an adventureless, strictly by the book life. 

    But there are clues throughout the story that it wasn’t the case.

    While they talked, he tried to fix her permanently into his memory.

    Little by little he entangled his thoughts with hers. He lent her books, provided her with ideas, and shared his intellectual life with her.

    Would you do or think all that if you were trying to avoid someone? 

    He seemed shaken reading about her death in the papers. A painful case, they call it.

    Mrs. Sinico’s pain ended at the train station. 

    As for Mr. Duffy, I would never know.

  • Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome: Summary and Review

    Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome: Summary and Review

    Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) is a humorous account by the renowned British author Jerome K Jerome, detailing a boating holiday spanning a couple of weeks. 

    Funnily enough, the book was initially meant to be written as a serious travel guide, but the comic element in the presentation ended up overpowering everything else. The book was first published in 1889, had widespread success, and never went out of print since its first publication.

    Three Men in a Boat: Summary

    The story begins with an account of three friends- George, Harris, and Jerome (always called J) and J’s dog called Montmorency. The friends happen to be discussing the variety of ailments that plague them and unanimously come to the same conclusion – overwork was to blame. 

    Naturally, the best antidote in that situation turns out to be a holiday, an impromptu one. Options for a holiday are floated around, and the decision of a boating trip on the Thames is finalized.

    They set off the following weekend, reaching the starting point of their journey – George got there first while J and Harris came later after a series of haphazard incidents also involving their bribing a train driver. 

    The rest of the story describes their journey, peppered with a description of the landmarks they passed along the way, ruminating over the historical association of these places. Most of the time, it slips into a series of humorous anecdotes- on a wide variety of topics – weather, the (un)reliability of thermometers, towlines, boats, artificial trout, Irish stew – you name it. 

    Their journey ends the same way it started- eventful.

    Three Men in a Boat: Review and Quotes

    Back to my rant on Three Men in a Boat. 

    I wish I could rave more about it than I do. The story has always had a significant influence on me. There are too many things I relate with J on. Just too many. 

    I am a fan of his stupefying laziness and hilarious condensation of life’s profound philosophical truths. Oh no, never, I don’t think I can ever bring myself to review this – because I relate to the book personally, on so many levels. 

    There is neither a start nor an end to the love that I have for this sacred piece of writing.

    There is much to feel lighthearted about.

    Beware of J’s uncle Podger for example:

    Oh, you leave that to me. Don’t you, any of you, worry yourselves about that. I’ll do all of that.

    Because he’s gonna follow up with this not long after :

    Oh, you can give it up! I have found that myself now. Might just as well ask the cat to find anything, as expect you people to find it

    I’d be surprised if you don’t know at least one such character from your own life. I have more than I need of this Podger supply.

    Their familial woes are not even the tip of the iceberg; their culinary skills are simply out of the world. 

    Consider their community-based preparation of the Irish stew. Even Montmorency was fully invested in the preparation of this exotic meal:

    I forget the other ingredients, but I know nothing was wasted; and I remember that, towards the end, Montmorency, who had evinced great interest in the proceedings throughout, strolled away with an earnest and thoughtful air, reappearing, a few minutes afterwards, with a dead water-rat in his mouth, which he evidently wished to present as his contribution to the dinner; whether in a sarcastic spirit, or with a genuine desire to assist, I cannot say.

    If you thought that was enough, the gentlemen even deliberated putting the rat into the stew.

    Wait till you hear his rant about weather predictions; it’s funny that this is as relevant now as it was a century and a half ago:

    I do think that of all the silly, irritating tomfoolishness that we are plagued with, this weather forecast is about the most aggravating. It forecasts precisely what happened yesterday, or the day before, and precisely the opposite of what is going to happen today.

    And then there are priceless hacks on tenets on preservation:

    I take a great pride in my work, I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.

    The book was first published in the late nineteenth century and never went out of print. Fans of the book recreate the trip to this day, replete with visits to some of the joints mentioned in the book that survives to this day. 

    One of Mr.Jerome’s publishers famously mentioned this to a friend:

     “I pay Jerome so much in royalties”, “I cannot imagine what becomes of all the copies of that book I issue. I often think the public must eat them.”

    That says something, doesn’t it?

    The book has much to offer if you are looking for a light-hearted read. At the very least, it offers a respite from the mad rush of life-jumping from one goalpost to another. Running from one mindfulness lesson to another implementing none. 

    If nothing else, the bare minimum takeaway from this book is a mantra as simple as this: 

    Sit back. Relax.

    If the three men with extraordinary intelligence could survive a Thames trip, it would be a miracle if you don’t.

  • It’s not personal, it’s just business… but is it, really?

    It’s not personal, it’s just business… but is it, really?

    There is a good chance you know what I am talking about. Great chance if you are a movie buff or an avid reader. 

    The Godfather.

    Now I must admit, I never read the book myself, but the movies were so good that I thought the book wouldn’t be able to beat the charm – especially the magic that Marlon Brando and Al Pacino created in The Godfather. 

    The movies are practically loaded with worldly wisdom.

    When negotiating: make them an offer they can’t refuse

    When confused about the choice to make: leave the gun, take the cannoli.

    When faced with an all-out war: go to the mattresses.

    When pestered to reveal something you don’t want to: Don’t ask me about my business, Kaye.

    It has priceless advice for almost every major imaginable life scenario, but the one that I have heard most out of a cinematic setting is:

    It’s not personal; it’s just business.

    The funny thing is I have heard this in informal settings as much as in formal ones. I have seen it used at work and at parties. And almost always, it describes a scenario where someone seemed to have been stabbed in the back. 

    Not to say that the victim didn’t deserve it, but the perpetrator, the stabber in the case, could easily justify doing what they did because it wasn’t personal hatred; it was something that just needed to be handled for them to be able to afford a smooth “sailing” experience.

    Now it may not be personal, it really may be purely business, but I always have trouble digesting that. 

    How is it possible? 

    Maybe in a day and age where machines have risen, and humans are already a relic. 

    But human beings are emotional creatures. With this flawed design in our making, can there be a clear distinction? Doesn’t our personality influence everything we do, work or otherwise?

    Corporate literature is ripe with examples of founders chucked out of their own companies; maybe the company board went with ” it’s not personal, it’s business.” 

    But I bet the fired founder didn’t feel the same way. 

    Kevin Spacey’s character in Horrible Bosses didn’t feel like promoting Jason Bateman’s, despite him proving time and again that he was deserving. 

    a scene from HORRIBLE BOSSES which shows kevin spacey and jason bateman facing each other
    Kevin Spacey (L) and Jason Bateman in Horrible Bosses.

    For a minute, forget about the movie and look around your workplace, I am sure you know of one or two occasions where someone you know, if not you, was told by their boss that the reason for no promotion was strictly business. 

    Our work is a reflection of the people we are. Our experiences – personal and business – shape our personalities. One to exist in isolation, without the other, is impossible unless you are a robot. 

    OR THE GODFATHER.

  • Sorry, what did Betty buy again?

    Sorry, what did Betty buy again?

    For some reason, someone decided that the best way for a person to perfect English pronunciation was to hone their skill in tongue twisters. 

    After all, what other way to royally mark your rite of passage to the world of fluent native speakers than:

    1. Being able to give a perfect account of a lady selling seashells on the seashore.
    2. Being scared of the neighborhood Betty, who loves to buy better butter.

    Seashell lady and I haven’t had much trouble. She has always been very kind to my tongue and tiny brain. She is also not intimidating. She is some mysterious creature somewhere, and I have very high hopes, if not absolute certainty, of never running into her.

    Betty isn’t the same, though. There is something supremely familiar about her personality. She means business. She is here to solve problems. She is also there to haunt your second language lessons for all eternity i.e., if you let her.

    Don’t know Betty? Oh how I envy you! Once the dust settles, Let me explain. With a convenient rhyme, hoping you have come across at least some version of it.

    Betty bought a bit of butter
    But she found the butter bitter
    So she bought some better butter
    To make the bitter butter better.

    Betty is the epitome of creativity, an innate problem solver. 

    As you can see, Betty accidentally bought bitter butter. She could have stopped right there. But she is a curious soul, a butter connoisseur, so naturally, she tastes it.

    She finds it bitter. 

    She does have the option to discard it, But where’s the fun in that? She devises a very well-thought-out plan to solve the problem- throw good butter after bad – to make the bad mildly better than bitter. 

    You can see that she is human because she gives in to the same fallacy as the rest of rational humans. She surely doesn’t abide by the golden rules of gambling – never throw good money after bad. Or maybe the rules of money don’t apply to butter.

    Betty and butter get along very well.

    Butter and I get along very well.

    So per syllogism, do Betty and I get along well?

    You know the answer.

  • How in the world do movie-people kick doors open so easily?!

    How in the world do movie-people kick doors open so easily?!

    I have been watching a lot of crime/investigation shows lately, and it has been messing with me. 

    No, it’s not the rampant gore that gets to me, thanks to my palms-to-eye coordination. Those babies are always on standby, deployed efficiently, at the slightest cue from the suspenseful background score.

    It’s the doors. 

    Yes, you read it right. I did mean doors.

    So, here is how it rolls, someone gets some actionable intelligence, and they head to bust somebody- at their temporary residence or some rendezvous point. Now, this temporary meeting point could be a dingy apartment, a fancy house, a dilapidated house in the country, a stellar spacious condo in a high rise… you get the point.

    What almost inevitably happens is that someone breaks through the door – mostly without so much effort as a kick. One kick, and bam! – the door comes off!

    It does not matter if the person kicking it was a teenager, an average young man, or a mature adult, so long as they are the hero in the scene. 

    The debris from that kick is quite a sight to behold, it makes me question all the science I thought I knew growing up. All those memorization nights with “force equals mass into acceleration” come to taunt me. They laugh at me. 

    One kick, that’s all it takes. Really?

    But then I switch back to my art lessons. What fun would it be if you are armed, with a bunch of officers following you, you wait for the ‘dangerous and armed’ criminal to answer the door for you?

    That would probably switch the scene from intense suspense and thrill to comedy-esque. Maybe?

    I look deeper and realize it’s just plain old jealousy. Just because I can’t smash a door by kicking it hard once doesn’t mean everyone else can’t. Maybe an average person does have it in them to bring a door down with a simple power of a kick. After being driven up the wall with all this door business, I have an epiphany. 

    When life gives you lemons, just kick the door. The closest door you can find.

    And preferably at midnight when everyone is fast asleep, for sweet vengeance.