I was in an undergraduate creative writing class a number of years ago, and I remember how many of critiques of our writing involved the incongruity of a detailed description of a character appearing in a narrative from that character's point of view. "Maybe I want the cheesecake," thought Brad, a tall blond, brown-eyed Midwesterner with a mole on the left side of his nose wearing a chartreuse fez.
So, the quick fix was a mirror: the character can't describe herself from outside, but he can certainly observe his appearance when looking into a mirror. "Does this chartreuse fez make the mole on the left side of my nose look big?" pondered Brad as he gazed narcissistically into the mirror at his tall, blond, Midwesterny beauty. Nice trick, but... It's so pedestrian, and usually meaningless.
So then we come to the first chapter of Ulysses, in which stately, plump Buck Mulligan produces the cracked looking-glass of a servant from a pocket and hands it to Stephen Dedalus, our point-of-view character for that chapter. And it's the mirror trick, here comes the description of Stephen's face, his teeth, his eyes... But it never comes.
Joyce gives us something else entirely. Stephen isn't going to use the mirror as we expect. This isn't an undergrad short story. First, commanded to look at himself in the mirror, Stephen sees his hair on end... And reflects on the fact that this is the face that others see, with no mention of its appearance. Stephen then observes the mirror, the cracked looking-glass of a servant, as a symbol of Irish art. And Mulligan puts in his oar, giving us a tale of the mirror's provenance. And then, wait for it, Joyce winks at us, denying us a view of Stephen, just as he denies Stephen a view of himself, "the rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror".
So, the quick fix was a mirror: the character can't describe herself from outside, but he can certainly observe his appearance when looking into a mirror. "Does this chartreuse fez make the mole on the left side of my nose look big?" pondered Brad as he gazed narcissistically into the mirror at his tall, blond, Midwesterny beauty. Nice trick, but... It's so pedestrian, and usually meaningless.
So then we come to the first chapter of Ulysses, in which stately, plump Buck Mulligan produces the cracked looking-glass of a servant from a pocket and hands it to Stephen Dedalus, our point-of-view character for that chapter. And it's the mirror trick, here comes the description of Stephen's face, his teeth, his eyes... But it never comes.
Joyce gives us something else entirely. Stephen isn't going to use the mirror as we expect. This isn't an undergrad short story. First, commanded to look at himself in the mirror, Stephen sees his hair on end... And reflects on the fact that this is the face that others see, with no mention of its appearance. Stephen then observes the mirror, the cracked looking-glass of a servant, as a symbol of Irish art. And Mulligan puts in his oar, giving us a tale of the mirror's provenance. And then, wait for it, Joyce winks at us, denying us a view of Stephen, just as he denies Stephen a view of himself, "the rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror".
