1. Notes on Stephen Dedalus Poets are, after all, ordinary people. Rimbaud ended his life as a merchant and "bourgeois trafficker"; one suspects that Keats and Shelley, had they not died young, would have ended up much the same. Art is always being intruded upon by gross, indecent life. The need to pay the bills, to eat and expel, to gratify our base sexual urges, inevitably crowds out whatever momentary epiphanies we have had; in the long run it threatens to swallow them up whole. This does not have to result in a spiritual (or literal) suicide, though often enough and tragically it does. What it does manifest as is perpetual despair. When we first meet Stephen, he is in the throes of this: guilt-ridden, destitute, locked out of his home. His mind teems with philosophic and poetic ideas, but these invariably run into dead-ends. He is frustrated for a variety of reasons, but perhaps most prominently the immaturity of his abilities. It is not yet the moment for his success; h...
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