> Why is The Dead considered the greatest short story ever written?

"Greatest" is a definition that people can debate and argue about endlessly (though personally I do rate The Dead as one of the greatest stories in the English language – I don't think there is a single "THE" greatest). I don't know if critical analysis is going to give you the answer you're looking for, Guest, because I'm not sure that's where its greatness resides. It resonates on many levels, and (like the five blind men trying to describe the elephant) it depends upon what the reader responds to. One of its prevailing themes, as the title suggests, is the overwhelming presence of the past and its ghosts – the towering dead, as Dylan Thomas puts it – and the soon-to-be dead, and the influence that lost worlds continue to exercise over the present one. Loss and paralysis figure greatly in this story, and the evocation of Ireland in the final paragraphs is one of the magnificent passages in literature. The story comes at the end of a book-length collection of tales, titled "Dubliners", and though each one stands independently of the rest, all are linked together by underlying meanings so that the volume equals more than the sum of its parts. Time and place (Dublin 1904, January 6th, the Feast of Epiphany) have great impact, and you probably need to be tuned in to Ireland and its sensibilities to get the most out of Joyce. It's very difficult to describe what I mean in a short paragraph, but then I suppose that's the point of fine literature: it's hard to pin down. One can paraphrase or summarise, but only the original really says it.

Ruminating about the story's theme and the music has sparked a further thought: When this song appears in the story, D'Arcy is upstairs singing or practicing, as he believes, to himself. He is annoyed to find that anyone has overheard him when he is not sounding his best. (Joyce himself was a prize-winning singer, second in some opinions only to John McCormack, so he would have been familiar with the small vanities and tempers of star tenors.) But, I wonder, what if D'Arcy had been singing downstairs in the parlour to the assembled company, rather than in private? Would he have even chosen the old-tonality Lass of Aughrim? Very likely he'd have gone for more popular drawing room fare, which was not in the "old tonality" at all. Thus, the song itself becomes one more relic of the dead, the past, the ghosthood they are all moving inexorably towards. (It's also relevant for the image of the doomed lover standing out in the rain, seeking admittance which is not going to be granted.)

Incidentally, the house in Dublin where this story is said to be set, 15 Usher's Island (which isn't an island but a quay) still stands, and they give re-enactment dinners of the one in this story, recreating its atmosphere and setting. More info at www.jamesjoycehouse.com (click on the link "Dead Dinners") (I'm not kidding).

If you Google "Joyce The+Dead" you will find a whole host of critical commentary. One thing of interest I came across was this:

"The Lass of Aughrim," a version from western Ireland which Nora (Aughrim is near Galway, Nora's origin) sang to Joyce. (One of the original versions of this song is "The Lass of Lochroyan," #76 in F.J. Child, English and Scottish Popular Ballads, 1882-98). The lyrics tell the story of a young peasant girl who has a child by a Lord Gregory, who seduced and then left her. She comes to his castle to beg for his help, but is turned away by his mother who, behind the closed front door, imitates her son's voice. She puts out to sea in a small boat to drown herself and the child, but is not saved, even though the lord discovers his mother's ruse and races to find her. The ballad ends with the lord mourning for his lost love and bringing down a curse on his mother.
There are many versions of the song, which perhaps explains Bartell D'Arcy's confusion. The version that Nora sang to Joyce can be found in Richard Ellmann's James Joyce (revised edition, p. 286). The three quoted lines are from the section below where the girl talks with Lord Gregory, who is behind the closed door:

If you'll be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
That passed between you and me.

O don't you remember
That night on yon lean hill
When we both met together
Which I am sorry now to tell.

The rain falls on my yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms;
Lord Gregory, let me in.

Finally, an interesting side-note regarding the Feast of Epiphany which may be relevant (considering Joyce's attitude towards religion): "The Feast of the Epiphany on January 6 exemplifies religious diversification as well as the pagan elements present in some of these celebrations." [Encyclopedia Britannica]