Fantasy, Reality, and Escapism Theme Analysis

In “Counterparts,” Joyce depicts Farrington, the story’s protagonist, as an escapist and a fantasist. From the story’s start, Farrington longs to go the pub instead of working in his office. His mind keeps wandering away from his desk (at one point he even physically leaves the office to have a quick pint), and he fantasizes about how happy alcohol, the pub, and gossiping with his friends will make him. And when he makes a witty but professionally ruinous retort to his boss, Mr. Alleyne, he imagines himself much braver and funnier than he actually is, escaping reality through his daydreams. The rest of the story consists of a series of disappointments from losing an arm-wrestling match, to being ignored by a well-dressed lady, to wasting his money on drink after drink, all of which highlight how bleak and depressing Farrington’s existence is and how desperately he longs to escape it. Through Farrington, Joyce emphasizes how escapism—be it through drinking, storytelling, or fantasizing—is only a temporary balm for pain and is ultimately unproductive or even outright harmful. And it’s not just Farrington who has this penchant for escapism—Joyce also subtly hints that Farrington is the embodiment of stereotypical Irish traits, such as “blarney” (flattery), fantasizing, and gossip, all of which are ways Irishmen avoid the reality of their colonial situation.

At the beginning of the story, Farrington spins his argument with Alleyne into a fantasy wherein Farrington appears far more clever and bold than he actually is. And while this fantasy certainly bolsters Farrington’s self-esteem in the moment, it does nothing to alleviate the tensions between the two men or make Farrington better at his job, thus highlighting how escapism doesn’t actually get at the root problem. Right off the bat, there is an obvious irony between what actually happens to Farrington and how he describes it to his friends. Joyce describes how, as “[Farrington] walked along he preconsidered the terms in which he would narrate the incident to his friends: ‘so I just looked at him—coolly, yer know—and looked at her.’” The fact that Farrington rehearses the story and changes the facts demonstrates that his conception of himself is much higher than it actually is, and that he wants other people to think highly of him too. Farrington’s actual retort and the way he narrates how he retorted to Alleyne are very similar, but the difference lies in their tone, emphasis, and embellishment. To his friends, Farrington relates how he responded “very coolly,” with a marked theatricality (“taking my time, as you know”), which contrasts with how Joyce relates the scene: before Farrington could even think, he had uttered the witticism, which duly “astounded” him because it unconsciously came out. It seems clear that Farrington wants to think that he has gotten the upper hand in the situation, but actually all that’s happened is that he’s uttered an unpremeditated quip which likely costs him his livelihood. In other words, Farrington’s embellished retelling does nothing to smooth things over with his boss, making it ultimately unproductive.

Joyce shows how alcohol can be used a way to escape reality, too, and how drinking can impart an inflated sense of achievement and self-confidence. This is especially important in the context of the story, since heavy drinking is stereotypically associated with the Irish. One method Joyce uses to emphasize the distance between Farrington’s rather expansive conception of himself (a sense inflated by alcohol) and the sad reality is to dwell on how physically repulsive he is. Just after receiving a roar of laughter from his friends, who applaud his supposed wit in the face of Alleyne’s accusations, Farrington “look[s] at the crowd with heavy dirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing forth stray drops of liquor from his moustache with the aid of his lower lip.” By drawing out attention immediately to such physical detail Joyce is drawing readers away from what Farrington is saying about himself towards how he looks—those looks being reminders of just how distant his proud self-conception is from the reality.

Joyce combines three quintessential Irish stereotypes in Farrington: the fantasist, the storyteller, and the drinker. By depicting Farrington as stereotypically Irish in his love of gossip, fantasy, and drinking, Joyce is critiquing his nation’s inability to face up to its reality as a belittled colony of the British Empire. “Counterparts” is filled with subtle references to colonial subjugation, revealing Joyce’s deeper purpose in penning the story. Farrington’s long, slow humiliation by Alleyne began when he was overheard mocking Alleyne’s “North of Ireland” accent—which is significant, because the Irish ruling class all come from the North and are largely British by descent. It is thus Farrington’s theatricality that sets Alleyne initially against him. The ability to tell a story, relate a joke, and to mimic and gossip are all proverbial Irish traits, and Farrington’s gift of “blarney” would have been quite recognizably Irish, especially to the first readers of Dubliners. Indeed, “blarney,” the “gift of the gab” as it is sometimes called, was something that many Irish people took great pride in and thought it gave them intellectual superiority over their dull-witted English masters. Joyce is here exposing that as an illusion.

Perhaps Farrington’s most amiable features are his love of comradeship and his delight in storytelling. Likewise, his love of drinking might not necessarily be regarded as the most appalling of vices, and there are certainly comic elements of the story which complicate its status as a warning against the dangers of escapism, drink, and self-delusion. However, the shocking and sudden shift in tone during the latter part of the story—when Farrington’s misery and fury come to the fore and he beats his son Tom—suggests that reality is not something that can be avoided or escaped from, no matter how innocent the intention of doing so. In the context of Joyce’s critique of Ireland and “Irishness” throughout Dubliners, Farrington’s plight suggests that Ireland must look at itself as it really is and stop escaping into the romance of fantasy.