I mapped the pathway that the boy takes to get to the Araby bazaar. Using details from the text as well as my own research to find more specific locations, I mapped out the trip that the protagonist makes going to the bazaar. Each segment of his journey is colored differently to represent the walking, tram ride, train ride and final walk to the bazaar. Mapping the route of this story was a really fun experience, getting to play around with google maps with multiple trial-and-error moments to learn how to use the map best.
I mapped North Washington Street and contrasted its current state with its depiction in Araby. The houses and Christian Brothers School are still there, but the lanes where the boy describes playing have been turned into parking lots and a paved street. Two street lamps are present on the street, as they're described in the story, and one stands almost directly across from a row house. This could be the boy's house, as the narrator describes "the light from the lamp opposite our door."
Instead of just looking at Dublin, I tried to map the foreign references in Araby. I ended up with 3 places- Arabia from the reference to The Arab's Farewell to His Steed, France because of the french name of the Cafe Chantant, and England because of the English accents of the stall merchants. I noticed that in regards of the order they are presented in the story, the references go from the furthest away and get progresssively closer to Dublin. I think this parallels the boy's collapse of his naivete. When we're young, it seems like the world is so close and reachable, but I think that as the boy became more aware of 'reality' at least in the 'seeing through the mirages that make things seem magical' sense, the more he sees how small his world actually is. He said, "the syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me." (2) The boy saw Araby as this magical place, but when it turned out to be quite the opposite, it changed how he saw the world and himself.
Even if that wasn't Joyce's purpose with the foreign references, they do give the sense of how far away from home the boy is. When the poem is mentioned, we're reminded that it's not his father he's waiting for, it's his uncle, which seems out of place and furthermore, he's drunk and forgot about him, which isn't very 'home-y' at all. And then at Araby, it's definitely not what he's used to, which is the little square that he's used to calling home, but it's also a let down because although they are different places, they aren't magical places at all.
Megan Grier and Katie Boul
We decided to look at the words yellow and green (our two favorite colors), in The Crisis and The Egoist.
We were surprised to find that in The Crisis, yellow was actually a frequently used word. Then, when we looked at the KWIC panel, it became apparent that yellow was actually referring to the Japanese race. Taking into account the fact that The Crisis was a magazine aimed towards the advancement of African Americans and therefore talked mainly about the issues of racism and prejudice, it actually made sense that yellow would be so frequently used. The word green was surprisingly used more frequently than yellow, but upon further investigation, it became clear that most of the usages were for last names, which skewed the data pretty significantly.
The use of the words yellow and green follow a similar trend in the Egoist as they do in the Crisis. Green occurs the most (12 times) in the February 1914 issue, and the primary user of the word is James Joyce in his first installment of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. In this volume, at least, green is never used as a last name, a distinction that does set it apart from the Crisis. Yellow is used a bit less, maxing out at 8 times in the December 1919 issue. Interestingly, James Joyce is, again, the author that employs the word yellow the majority of the times it appears in the magazine. The Joyce piece in this issue is Episode X of Ulysses.
One other note on the word yellow in the December 1919 issue: Voyant claims that the word yellow is used 8 times. However, when you search for the word in a PDF version of the document, it comes up 9 times. This must be an instance of the “dirty” data that Dr. Drouin referenced.
In regards to the entire corpus, green was still a pretty frequently used term, but again due to being a last name, so it’s not really a true representation of the term in the whole corpus. Yellow was used pretty frequently as well (though not as often as green). This probably has something to do with the fact that The Crisis, in which yellow was a frequently used term, accounts for a huge chunk of the corpus.
A question that came from this is if there would possibly be some way to filter out certain uses of a word. If we could’ve filtered out all uses of green as a last name, we would have gotten a better representation of the definition of the term that we were using. We’re not sure if that is already possible within Voyant, but it would be really neat to be able to filter out certain uses of words and I think it would help give a true representation of a term if you’re looking for a really specific term.
Mina Loy’s “Brancusi’s Golden Bird” and Valery Larbaud’s “The ‘Ulysses’ of James Joyce” from the November 1922 issue of The Dial and the October 1922 issue of The Criterion – respectively – embody a similar discourse to Eliot’s The Waste Land in their focus on generic experimentation and emphasis on interaction. Eliot’s work, by including footnotes written by the poet, embodies generic experimentation as The Waste Land is thus composed of the interaction between poem and prose descriptions. Loy’s poem, by focusing on “The immaculate / conception / of the inaudible bird” (508), alludes to generic experimentation through the simultaneous descriptive and expository depictions of the sculpture. This experimentation inherent in these dual approaches to the sculpture is further compounded by the picture of the sculpture that immediately follows the poem, which undermines the autonomy of the poem as the reader/viewer is forced with the juxtaposition of two works of different genres that mutually inform each other. Larbaud’s essay from The Criterion praises Joyce’s inclusion of theological, philosophic, and scientific discourse within his narrative that challenges notions of the novel. In spite of this experimentation, Larbaud asserts that “[t]hese pieces, which we might treat as digressions, or rather as appendices, essays composed outside of the book and artificially interpolated into all of the ‘tales,’ … [form] none the less an organism, a book” (97). Much like The Waste Land and Loy’s “Brancusi’s Golden Bird,” Larbaud’s appraisal of Joyce’s work finds its locus in his ability to challenge conceived notions of the genre, what Loy refers to as the “the Alpha and Omega / of Form” (507).
Along with this emphasis on experimentation, the pieces of Loy and Larbaud also contribute to a discourse surrounding the necessity of interaction. In the simultaneous presence of dichotomous entities (past/present, life/death, poetry/prose, East/West, etc.), The Waste Land calls direct attention to the manner through which these are not binaries, but rather in a state of interaction as a means through which to conceive of a post-WWI world. Loy focuses the readers attention on this interaction in her explication that “This gong / of polished hyperaesthesia / shrills with brass / as the aggressive light / strikes / its significance” (507-8). For Loy, meaning arises from Brancusi’s sculpture in its interaction with its physical environment, which is embodied in the light in this depiction. This emphasis on interaction is also present in the bibliographic coding of the poem, which – as previously mentioned – juxtaposes the poem with a photograph of its subject. Larbaud also contributes to the discourse regarding interaction when she asserts that “The reader who approaches [Ulysses] without the Odyssey clearly in mind will be thrown into dismay. I refer, of course, to the cultivated reader” (93). As with Loy, Larbaud makes note of two interactions – that of Joyce’s text with Homer’s Odyssey and an ideal reader with the text – that are essential in the comprehension of the text.
A significant distinction in the simultaneous publications of The Waste Land is the volume number of the respective magazines, which creates a variance in the positioning of Eliot’s text. Created by the American Transcendentalists, The Dial is oriented as actively engaging with the discourse surrounding the foundation of the American literary tradition. Published in The Dial’s seventy-third volume, The Waste Land emerges as a continuation of this American literary tradition. Unlike this connection to a broader arch of national literary tradition, the simultaneous publication of The Waste Land in the first issue of The Criterion denotes a connection of the work with an emerging literary tradition. This play between established and emerging literary traditions is particularly interesting when though of in regards to notions of modernism as Transatlantic.
One difference that I noticed between some early content in The Little Review and transition is their contrasting takes on intelligence and "cerebral irradiations." Jane Heap defends Joyce's Ulysses in the The Little Review and argues that only a few people "become aware of cerebral irradiations" and "cerebration." She argues that Joyce conceives and records without regard for his audience. This ties into the The LIttle Review's refusal to compromise taste for the public interest. (This is the very end of the article.)
Jean George Auriol's article, "The Occident," seems to counter this disregard for public interests and esoteric knowledge. Criticising European cutlure in general, Auriol specifically attacks "French literature [that] is becoming anaemic by reason of an excess of cerebrality" (157). I think that this sample exemplifies transition's and possibly later generations skepticism for science and esotericism. Rainer Maria Rilke's "Against the Age" picks up on this idea as well. This poem ends with "More has happened than we all could learn" (138).
With the Yifan Hu algorithm, I further narrowed the graph by utilizing the Ego filter of “mediocrity.” This graphing of the data provides some fairly straight forward connections, such as the connection of mediocrity to Yeats’s “In Memory of Robert Gregory” and the “Hades” episode of Ulysses. However, there is also a less overt connection between mediocrity and World War I in the graph. Given the general sentiment – I’m basing this both on our discussion of WWI in class and prior encounters with in other courses – of the epic scale of World War I and its wide felt reverberations throughout much of the world, a connection to mediocrity seems an interesting avenue for further investigation. Because these two concepts – mediocrity and WWI – are connected by their shared relation to Yeats and Joyce, the graph created through the Yifan Hu algorithm gives an interesting means through which to (re)examine the discourse on death in the aftermath of WWI in the September 1918 issue of The Little Review.
Using the Fruchterman Reigold algorithm and again narrowing the graph’s spectrum to the Ego filter for “mediocrity,” the primary effect on my interpretation of the graph is less of a focus on the more prevalent topics, such as death or poetry. With the centralization of the mediocrity node and the equivalent node and network web sizes, there is an opportunity to approach and interpret these various foci on a level playing field. Because the graph that I created is more focused, this doesn’t seem to necessarily be the most productive algorithm to use, but I could see it being more significant for a graph of either a single issue or a few issues.
The network visualizations created by Gephi do seem to be a fairly useful tool in periodical studies, as they allow for interesting connections both within a single issue and (conceivably) among a series of issues. The collaborative nature of this enterprise seems to be both the greatest advantage and disadvantage of this sort of analysis. In joining the input of a multitude of scholars, network visualization graphs provide an exciting avenue for future scholarship, not only in sheer breadth of material that can be covered but also in the creation of new connections through the polyvocality of such a collaboration. However, there do seem to be some drawbacks in the logistics of such a project. The clear example from the graph constructed in this lab is the non-uniform tags, which create redundancies in the graph – the best example is “Poem” and “Poetry.” While this is a seemingly minor issue with such a small sample size, one issue, it would seem to exponentially compound itself as the scope of such a project grew. Erin further discusses issues with tagging in her blog post this week.
Unsurprisingly, a search for "Egoism" brings up four pieces from The Egoist. The most interesting piece of these was "'The Egoist's' Employment of Words," a letter to the editor of The Egoist taking Dora Marsden to task over her earlier condemnation ( "I Am," in the January 1, 1915 issue) of the way in which other feminists attempt to fight for their rights. Moreover, clicking through to this piece gave me access to many other critical pieces on the same page, other letters to the editor questioning Dora Marsden's writings and her commitment to egoism, feminism, and logic. These writings would be intriguing to tie together with Marsden's pieces in the August 1914 issue that I examined for today, comparing the 1915 criticisms of these readers with Marsden's earlier writings and examining the common themes between them.