“His questions showed me how complex and mysterious were certain institutions of the Church which I had always regarded as the simplest acts.”

Through a first-person narrator, Joyce describes a young boy’s early exposure to Catholicism, providing a subtle critique of the overcomplication of basic religious tenets—which he also positions as tenets of humanity—and the efforts of the church to create a sense of authority and mystique. Through this moment, Joyce presents a juxtaposition of value and constraint, which Joyce himself famously grappled with in his own relationship to religion.

“A spirit of unruliness diffused itself among us and, under its influence, differences of culture and constitution were waived.”

“Differences of culture and constitution” was a reality of everyday life in early-20th-century Ireland, and particularly in Dublin, with regard to religion, political leanings, and social class. Here Joyce suggests that these distinctions are less prominent in childhood, when friends and neighbors are bound together by shared humanity instead of social, economic, and political identities, which he positions as artificial constructs and oversimplifications of the human experience.

“I had never spoken to her, except a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.”

Through the first-person narrator of Araby, Joyce represents the intensity of childhood infatuation. The speaker acknowledges that he’s never built a true connection with his crush; instead, his love comes from a constructed ideal of what object of his affection represents. While the story ends on a note of tragedy and stagnation, it highlights a key