October 11th, 2017 by Aliya Nichols

Lily and Gabriel

Lily was impressed with how respectfully she handled Gabriel’s rude gesture of offering her money for doing her job. She prided herself on the way she attempted to refuse the money because it showed how she did not accept handouts. Lily noticed that Gabriel’s agitation from the girl’s bitter and sudden response had overwhelmed him. He looked anxious and tried to distract others from noticing this by playing with his cuffs and tie. Lily watched as he nervously took a little piece of paper out of his waistcoat pocket and grew an expression of debate as he read it. She thought his behavior was odd for someone of his class ranking, he offered her money, was rejected by girls and was discomposed by a piece of paper. His social anxiety and radiating awkwardness surprised Lily. She knew he wanted to be an impressive host but for some reason she was not impressed. She realized that Gabriel was so self-conscious that it gave off an aroma of discomfort for his guests. It was apparent to Lily that Gabriel thought over each action he made before and afterwards. He cared about his ego and how he came across to others but it was unattainable for him to be the man that everyone respected because of his discomfort with himself.

October 6th, 2017 by kailabasile

playing with pov-the dance from miss ivors’ pov

Lancers were arranged. Miss Ivors could barely suppress a laugh when she was partnered with Gabriel, thinking the two of them must have looked odd standing next to each other. Even his clothed screamed west Briton to her, and she could not help but notice his gaze meeting her brooch with some suspicion. She wondered if he touched it, would he feel the burn of the culture he chose to ignore?

“I have a crow to pluck with you,” she half-joked. She admired Gabriel, had known him for awhile, could see the yearning to be Irish in his wife that perhaps he still had in him.

“With me?” He seemed shocked a woman could pluck a crow. She feigned complete seriousness. “What is it?”

“Who is G.C.?” She looked at him squarely, and could feel him squirming and blushing under her female gaze. “O, innocent Amy! I have found out that you write for the Daily Express! Now aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” The two danced, but awkwardly, Gabriel a little heavy-footed.

“Why should I be ashamed of myself?”

“Well, I’m ashamed of you. To say you’d write for a rag like that. I didn’t think you were a West Briton.” Her eyebrows raised. Her look could convict him, if it were a trial.

He seemed shocked that her accusation was an accusation, that she didn’t wax poetic about Robert Browning. His flustered stare seemed to ask why she didn’t want to be part of England. She could feel the panic as he tried to keep his steps, tried to keep a comfortable distance of her that did not come off cold, nor intimate. She enjoyed his panic, though she wouldn’t say it out loud.

“Of course I was only joking. Come, we cross now.” The two crossed, and as her skirts shuffled across the floor she felt victorious. He may not have agreed to go to the isles, but the west Britons were certainly not smarter or quicker on their feet than her. She could almost hear him tripping, still perplexed by the sharpness of her tongue. Next time, she would bring up the University question, and see how he flaunted his English wisdom.


October 5th, 2017 by winslowo

Mrs. Ivors’s Agenda

Mrs. Ivors had been chatting with Lily the caretaker about how splendid the butter tarts were that evening.  She had taken a bite of one and placed it back onto the plate, the crumbs rolling to the edges.  The arpeggios coming from Mary Jane’s finger tips on the piano bounced around in the background.

Mrs. Ivors said, “That Gabriel Conroy’s something is he not? You do know he writes for The Daily Express, right?” Lily shook her head and raised her eyebrows.  “I ought to have a word with that fellow; I’m sure he thinks we are all just oblivious.”

Mr. Conroy stood and stared aimlessly beside Freddy Malins and those boys.  They all swigged back whiskey while he kept his hands in his pockets.  Mrs. Ivors scrunched up her freckled face and squinted in their direction.   As couples began to be arranged for Lancers she pushed pass Lily and nocked a few crumbs onto the floor.  She put her nose down and paced towards Mr. Conroy as he admired the ceiling chandeliers.  Four boys on her left nearly bumped her over as they burst through the doorway clapping and whooping upon the end of Mary Jane’s piece.  She thought she ought to synch up their ties for them and tell them to pipe down.  Mr. Conroy still stood alone though and she quickened her step.  He adjusted his waistcoat as crowds shuffled past him and then Mrs. Ivors’s eyes reached his gaze.  She smiled and gestured for him to join in the dance with her.  A devilish smile formed on her face as they took their places.  She thought about the article of his she had read the week prior and clutched his shoulder.

“I have a crow to pluck with you” she said abruptly.

October 5th, 2017 by glassq

Here’s Freddy!

There’s no way to show up to a party than late, fashionably late! I drunkenly stumbled into the home of Miss. Kate and Miss. Julia- I’m not sure why such elderly women use Miss- and entered into a roaring round of applause. Because i am the life of the party, I expected such reception: a piano ringing in the background, cheering uncontainable by the bannister and couples exiting the ball room by the dozen to note my arrival- what a splendid greeting this was. After standing unrecognized for several seconds, I turned around and set my sights on home, but a young girl called Lily welcomed me to chat with her as I “appeared to be the first guest worthy of paying any attention to.” So we sat in her closet and chatted. She told me of her time in school, the conditions of her work and an interesting interaction she had with Mr. Conroy earlier that evening- I was assumed by his foolish. I told Lily a joke about how Gabriel and I was once great friends, until we went drinking one evening and he soiled his pants and embarrassed us. After that we no longer partook in drinking together and Gabriel began to despise my drunkenness. Lily erupted into laughter and tears of amusement trailed from her sullen eyes. Noticing that soberness was near for me, I snatched a bottle of whiskey from Lily’s shelf and inhaled it. Soon after, Gabriel bursts into the room and snatches me by my collar; I left sad Lily in laughter and was whisked away with Gabriel to have a serious talking to.


October 5th, 2017 by Brian Nickless

The Dead from Miss Ivors

Miss Ivors found herself paired with Mr. Gabriel Conroy, a fortuitous occurrence as she had recently discovered something about him that piqued her interest, and displeasure.

“I have a crow to pluck with you” she let on a little, not enough to fully play her hand as she would like to see the man worry a little first.

“With me?” Gabriel said curiously

Miss Ivors nodded her head, a bit dramatically to add weight to her soon coming revelation

“What is it?” asked the man, smiling a little hoping she was joking with her overly dramatic nod of the head

“Who is G. C?” she said, answering his questions with one of her own. She shifted her gaze to meet his fully to put the intended weight behind her words

The man colored and feigned confusion at her words

“O, innocent Amy! I have found out that you write for the Daily Express. Now aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” She said, her criticism fully laid bare for the man to sweat over

‘Why should I be ashamed of myself?” the man asked with a forced smile on his face

‘Well I’m ashamed of you. To say you’d write for a rag like that. I didn’t think you were a West Briton.” The final two words she made sure to deliver with a sharp undertone.

She watched the man blink and force a smile before muttering something about reviews and lack of politics. Proud with how their little exchange went she took his hand

“Of course I was only joking. Come, we cross now.” She said, how much of the truth she was telling with her last statement even she wasn’t fully certain of.

October 5th, 2017 by Alexis Wiggins

Gretta’s View

When the song had finished, Gretta looked around the room in search of Gabriel. She had seen him dancing with Miss Ivors earlier, and noticed that he had become agitated during the conversation. Gretta had seen Gabriel like this many times before. He straightened his shoulders, held his head a little higher and he puffed out his stomach, rather like a rooster in a barnyard. She knew he got uneasy when he thought he was losing control- control of what she did not know- and she also knew, as per usual, a mood would follow the incident.

Finding Gabriel in a remote corner of the room next to Freddy’s mother, Gretta made her way towards him. She was hoping to discover what had made him become so agitated, and quell his arrogance before he let it distract him all evening. She reminded him that his aunt’s wanted him to carve the goose later for everyone at the dinner.

“All right” he replied curtly then asked if she had been dancing. Irritation flickered in her eyes. Gabriel rarely noticed where she was or what she was doing at social events unless he needed something from her.

“Of course I was.” she replied then casually asked what Miss Ivors had said.

“no” he retorted, “did she say so?”

Knowing she had made a mistake, and that further questioning would only agitate him further, Gretta tried to change the subject. She commented that she wanted Mr. D’Arcy to sing, but Gabriel ignored this and went on grumbling that there were no words with Miss Ivors, only that she wanted them to go on a trip to West Ireland but he said they wouldn’t.

This caught Gretta’s attention. She was born in West Ireland and her family lived there still. She suddenly longed to visit them, and became so excited she clapped her hands and gave a little jump.

“Oh do go, Gabriel” she cried excitedly. She knew he was not found of West Ireland, nor did he like to remember that his wife herself had come from there, but he must give in this time, Gretta thought, if he knew how she longed to go.

She was wrong. “You can go if you like,” he retorted coldly.

Gretta froze and looked at him. She wondered how he could be so unfeeling. She did so much for him, tried so hard to please him. She had left her home and her family to marry him, and had not been back to West Ireland since then. The irritation in her eyes flared into fury at his heartless refusal. But Gretta knew that she could not be rude to her husband directly.

She turned to Mrs. Malins said “There’s a nice husband for you, Mrs. Malins” and left him sitting in the corner of his room, nursing his pride.


October 5th, 2017 by Peter

Miss Ivors’s National Irish Conscienceness

Molly Ivors is a very interesting character in “The Dead” as she acts as a kind of national Irish voice that stands up to Gabriel.  According to her point of view, Gabriel must be someone curious to her as he acts awkward around her yet is married.  In a way she acts like a coquette, putting her hand on his arm (456) and seeming to enjoy herself with him.  She seems to think of Gabriel as someone to play with, as she tells others about her conversation with him (to Gabriel’s chagrin) (526).  Ivors also senses a sort of anti-Irishness about Gabriel when she accuses him of being a “West Briton” (495).

I think that Ivors represents a sort of national Irish view toward Gabriel, and her impression of him as someone pro-English instead of pro-Irish serves as an underlying tension throughout the story we read.  Her being an unmarried woman gives her an air of independence and confidence that Gabriel finds threatening.  Nevertheless, Ivors does not seem to be at this party out of some sort of duty, but simply to enjoy herself as a strong and entitled Irish woman.

October 5th, 2017 by struzena

Lily’s Thoughts

I say, it was quite a strange encounter I had with Mr. Conroy this evening. I haven’t seen him in quite some time and he’s much more particular and peculiar than I recalled. A bit nosy too I might I add!

I was taking off his coat and gave my usual greeting to the guests, “Is it snowing again, Mister Con-ner-roy?” I placed it on the coat rack. He was dressed so finely this evening. What was with that rubbery covering on his boots, however? It looked like a sock worn on the outside of the shoe! Ever since I was little he’s paid attention to the little details and the specific fashions. Our small polite talk continued to carry on. I was growing impatient with the conversation; I had so much to prepare for the evening concert! He then proceeded to ask me about my wedding day! There was snow on the floor, and Freddy had still not arrived and he asked me about my wedding day! A topic that I do not generally favor anyway, but given the fervor in which I was working he should have assumed I would not have the slightest bit of time to retort to him with a thoughtful answer.

“The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you,” I told him back and began heading for the stairs. I regret the shortness of my tone, but the combination of my growing responsibilities around the house with my already bitter mood on the subject in general, did not create a very polite response I suppose. I hope I did not offend him too much!

p. 154-155, Lily’s thoughts on Mr. Conroy’s personal question of when she will marry.

October 5th, 2017 by pierrec

In Lily’s Point of View

I suppose it may have been too much to tell Gabriel’s wife multiple times to be delicate with the pudding and to serve it with grace. She may think I’m just as much of a loveless freak as Gabriel thinks I am. But this is the life I lead and I somewhat enjoy tending to Miss Kate and Miss Julia’s needs. It was necessary to tell Mrs. Conroy how to serve the pudding for the sake of my reputation.

While she served spoonfuls of pudding, I helped passed them down and occasionally would go around and clear the table for the guests. I moved the celery from the center of the table closer to Gabriel since the strange man refuses to eat sweets. I glanced at him, hoping he would look back in a different way he was seeing me before, but he did not notice me at all. He did not notice anyone. The poor man was in his own world, in his own head. He must have been rehearsing his speech in his mind.

I didn’t want to seem disrespectful, so I refrained from any natural reaction to the conversation circling the room. I think it’s a waste of thought to talk about monks. Although their way of living is rather amiable, I find it undesirable to talk of someone who doesn’t share the same social status as myself. The comparison is inefficient. Although maybe not in this room. Every time Miss Kate and Miss Julia hosts one of these grand suppers, it is always around Christmas time, the time when the atmosphere is most happy. Despite this, there always seems to be a wind of sadness that blow in every direction, entering every home and moving through every being. So maybe the monks would thrive in this room as we all carry the sins of one another.

Once the pudding, almonds, figs, chocolate and others were sorted around the table, I returned back to home-base by the staircase and watched for the first person to finish their dessert. I couldn’t help gazing at Gabriel from time to time. He always looks so uneasy to me. I thought to maybe offer him some tea, but he has an air about him that doesn’t seem to ever want to bothered. I watched him in his anxiety which made me a little uneasy too.

The time was approaching when all the conversation would die down. Miss Julia offered the table port and sherry which I got preparing right away. I filled Mr. D’Arcy’s glass with port and proceeded with three more glasses before everyone was had their share. It then became quiet. Gabriel abruptly pushed his chair back and assumed a position of superiority and high intelligence. The patting of the guests’ hands were softly thundering around the table which ceased any sound but Gabriel’s irregular breathing. His hand on the table cloth were making small creases and his smile was fleeting and forced. He looked up at the chandelier before staring over the heads of the guest. I moved out of his preferable vision as he began…

In the point of view of Lily. Pages 74-76, the build up to the Gabriel’s speech.

October 5th, 2017 by mooree

“The Dead” from Gretta’s POV

At the corner of Winetavern street, Gretta, Gabriel, Mr. Bartell D’Arcy, and Miss O’Callaghan met a cab. Gabriel sat attentively and close at Gretta’s side, as any loyal husband should. The party was great fun and a grand showing of true Irish hospitality, she thought, however there was something holding her mind hostage : the song. Gretta stared out the window of the cab and thought of him. The boy she loved in Connacht, who sang her songs like the one she had heard tonight. She remembered his devotion to her; he had died for her, proving his loyalty through an act unlike anything anyone had done for her before, even her husband. The others engaged in meaningless conversation that she by no means could take part in as she the thought of him had overcome her and taken her prisoner.

They stopped at the hotel and descended from the cab. She leaned on Gabriel’s arm, as an attempt to pull herself from her sad past and focus on the present. She tried to focus on her husband and the warmth radiating from him. Her touch on him was light and soft. It was all she could give with the thought of another man on her mind. She could feel his eyes on her and she knew he was lusting for her. His passion was nothing like the love she had experienced when she was a girl however, and despite her best efforts, her mind returned to him.

The porter led Gretta and Gabriel to their room, where Gabriel informed him they were to be woken at 8am and they would need only the light from the street tonight.

Gretta took to the mirror and began undressing herself. From the corner of her eye she saw Gabriel throwing his coat over the couch and moving towards her.

Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, she resolved to put aside these feelings of sorrow and be present with him.

His voice, full of lust and desire called hers.

“Gretta !”

Another night of pretending was ahead of her and she moved to kiss her living husband.

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