Book Summary

"Dubliners" is a book by James Joyce, an Irish author, which is considered one of the greatest novels of the 20th century and a masterpiece of world literature. The first edition of this work was published in 1914, and the novel consists of fifteen short stories. In his admirable writing, the author depicts the lives of the middle class in Ireland and skillfully illustrates their conditions in Dublin and its surroundings.

The 20th century, during which the author attempts to narrate events, is a time when nationalism in Ireland was reaching its peak and striving to establish a national identity. However, there were also concerns about stagnation and falling behind existing goals, which were reflected in the characters of children in the early stories and later through older individuals, with more attention paid to their details.

Joyce divides his novel into three sections: childhood, adolescence, and maturity, and he develops and concludes the stories in such a way that after finishing the reading, the reader will still ponder that there are more things to be said.

About the Author

James Augustine Aloysius Joyce was born on February 2, 1882, in Dublin. He was a talented student and spent some time in Paris and Zurich, spending a significant portion of his adulthood outside of Ireland and completing his university education at University College Dublin. Joyce was very religious in his youth but distanced himself from religion after the age of twenty to pursue his literary ambitions. Joyce passed away on January 13, 1941, in Zurich, leaving behind numerous influential works, some of which include "Ulysses," "Chamber Music," "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," "Finnegans Wake," and "Eveline."

Who Should Read the Book?

"Dubliners" is recommended for those interested in stories related to the history of countries and nationalist themes to read as soon as possible.

Book Quotes

I wanted to go to the room and look at him, but I didn’t have the courage to knock. I slowly walked down the sunny side of the street, reading all the display advertisements behind the shop windows as I went. It seemed strange to me that I felt no sorrow, nor was it a sad day, and I was even disturbed by the discovery of a sense of freedom within myself, as if with his death I had been freed from something.

In the evening, my aunt took me to the house of mourning. It was after sunset, but the glass windows of the house facing west reflected a yellow hue from the large clouds. Nani came to greet us in the hall, and since speaking loudly was not appropriate, my aunt only shook hands with her.

We crossed ourselves and went outside. In the small room downstairs, we saw Eliza sitting ceremoniously in my father’s armchair. I stumbled toward my usual chair in the corner of the room, while Nani went to the cupboard and brought a bottle of wine and a few wine glasses.

Eliza looked at Nani and said: “This poor Nani has worn herself out. With all the work piled on us—from bringing in the washerwoman and the coffin and laying him in it, to arranging for the communion service in church. If it weren’t for Father O’Rourke, I don’t know what we would have done. He was the one who brought all these flowers and these two candlesticks from the church and printed the obituary in the 'Freeman' newspaper, and he also took care of the cemetery documents and poor James's insurance.”

She placed her finger on her nose and frowned, then continued: “Despite this, he kept saying that before summer was over, on a nice day, he would take us to see our old house in Irish Town where we were all born. He said that if we could rent one of those new silent rheumatic carriages we’ve heard about from Father O’Rourke for a day from Johnny Rush, we would go there together one Sunday afternoon.”