Araby

“The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed.”

The children playing in the street on the winter nights carry an air of defiance about them. They play relentlessly, regardless of the weather. Even though the cold air stings them, they play on until they are told to stop. As such, their glowing bodies bind them together in a demonstration of their defiant urge to socialize with one another. They may not have much, but their red, glowing skin is a reminder of the friendships which they do have.

“Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.”

The narrator’s descriptions of Mangan’s sister hint at the ways in which she has ensnared his attention. The use of the word “rope” (250) to describe her hair suggests that the narrator has been caught and tied up by the girl’s feminine appearance. Her long hair distinguishes her from his male friends and, with his formative ideas of romance not yet fully-fledged, he focuses on the physical qualities that separate her from his male companions. He knows nothing of her character, but her long rope-like hair and her dress are distinctly feminine enough to tie up his attention.

“I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.”

The narrator is so young and so inexperienced that even the slightest hint of femininity is enough to make him think that he is in love. His naïve and vain attitude mistakes “a few casual words” (250) for a deep and profound affection. He cannot speak to her because he lacks the understanding and the knowledge to express the complicated and new emotions he is experiencing. The more the narrator describes his affection, the more naïve he appears to be.

“These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes.”

In the narrator’s daydreams, he frames himself as a conquering hero who is carrying Mangan’s sister to safety from the chaotic crowd. The people of the market are turned into a “throng of foes” (250) in his imagination, illustrating the absurdly dramatic ways in which a young boy’s affection for a girl is turned into a heroic fairy tale romance in his mind. He is so inexperienced that all he has to contextualize his feelings are stories from the books left behind by a dead priest. Naturally, the narrator frames his love in fairy tale terms because he is too young and naïve to know anything else.

“Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand.”

For the narrator, love is a religious experience. He may lack experience of romance but growing up in a Catholic society means that the boy presents his deep and profound emotions through the only framework he knows: religion. Even then, the narrator does not truly understand what is happening to him. The “strange prayers and praises” (250) turn a boyhood crush into a near-fanatical devotion to a girl he hardly knows. The more the narrator falls in love, the more he tries (and fails) to express himself, the more naïve he appears to be.

“I thought little of the future.”

The immediacy of the narrator’s emotions cloud everything. He lacks a self-awareness about his naïve approach to romance because he cannot even imagine how his future will play out. He does not imagine dating or marrying Mangan’s sister; he can barely conceive of talking to her. Instead, he is overwhelmed by his intense and immediate love for the girl he barely knows.

“I was thankful that I could see so little.”

The narrator’s devotion to Mangan’s sister is a confusing moment for him. Lacking the framework needed to understand the complexity of his emotions, he takes a religious approach. By framing his affection for Mangan’s sister in religious terms, he feels the need to make sacrifices to show his dedication to her. He is almost thankful that his other senses are beginning to fail him because it allows him to focus all of his attention on her. Like a religious person fasting to show their devotion to God, the narrator forgoes other sensory experiences to center his affection for Mangan’s sister.

“At last she spoke to me.”

After a period of intense but unrequited affection, the narrator is shocked when Mangan’s sister breaks the silence between them. For him, this is a pivotal moment in his life. For her, this is a random aside which she may never think about again. Even though the intensity of emotions in the conversation is imbalanced, the narrator cannot bring himself to take control of the situation. Mangan’s sister talks to him, rather than him to her. She is in control of the conversation, and she maintains her agency. The narrator is reduced to a passive participant in a conversation with the girl he loves.

“I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school.”

The narrator’s religious framing of his passion intensifies once he has something tangible to move his relationship forward. The idea of Araby’s Bazaar gives him an opportunity to demonstrate his love for Mangan’s sister. As such, everything else in his life seems inconsequential. He wishes everything else—such as his schoolwork—would simply vanish so that he could more quickly show Mangan’s sister how much he loves her. The narrator is so committed to his plan that he wants to abandon everything else in his life.

“From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street.”

Love has changed the narrator. The boy who once played with his friends in the cold streets until his skin was glowing is now watching others from behind a window. He has become a detached observer rather than an active participant, and he no longer regards himself as being anything like the other boys. They lack the understanding of love, which he believes he has gained. He physically separates himself from them to subtly imply his maturity and his growth, even though he remains a naïve youngster.

“I could interpret these signs.”

The narrator’s uncle’s return from the pub is framed as a religious moment. Again, the narrator elevates himself to an important position. He becomes the prophet compelled to interpret the divine messages from God. The solemnity of his religious interpretation of his uncle’s drunken stumbles is as comically absurd as his monastic take on a childhood crush. His uncle is drunk, and the narrator stands by, watching as though the stumbling man is a serious and significant stumbling block to the realization of true love.

“I recognised a silence like that which pervades a church after a service.”

The reality of the bazaar hints at the narrator’s imminent realization. The silent market represents the past; the chaos and the energy of the market have evaporated. The narrator is left behind to pick through the scraps and—as he again frames his experiences in a religious context—he feels as though he has missed the real religious experience. The silence is damning to the narrator. The silence reminds him of the hollowness of his devotion and that he is still dependent on adults to realize his absurd plan to win the love of a girl who hardly knows that he exists. The energy drains from the narrator as it has already drained from the bazaar, as it has drained from the church after the service.

“I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket.”

The coins clink together in the narrator’s pocket, and he tries to claim responsibility for the way they fall. Realizing that he has acted in a foolish and immature manner, realizing that he has given himself up completely to his childish affection, the narrator wants to reassert control over his life. The money was given to him by his uncle as part of a far-fetched plan to win the affections of Mangan’s sister. Now, as the narrator begins to understand the foolishness of his plan, he wants to demonstrate his agency. He allows the coins to fall against one another, as though his permission has any influence on the clinking of the coins in his pocket.