Wednesday 20 November 2013

Tuesday, 19 November 2013, Pages 776 - 785, Ithaca, Episode 17

Today we read as far as "distrusting aquacities of thought and language", 17.240 (Gabler), p. 785 (Penguin)

We follow the " keyless couple" Bloom and Stephen on their way home to Bloom's house. They are both "keyless" because Stephen has given his to Mulligan and Bloom has left his in another pair of trousers' pocket. They virtually end up breaking into Bloom's home by climbing over the railings in front of the house. We follow them closely through accurate descriptions of even the most mandane and familiar movements (common actions one would never think about with such awareness) like searching a pocket or turning on a tap.

Accuracy and precision are going to be some of the leading motives of Ithaca. It is written in a question-and-answer form, reminiscent of that of the Catechism (the way the Catholic church dishes out its truths). It also has a scientific touch, nearly mathematical in its attempt to be exact. Everything is treated as if it were of equal importance (a dust bucket seems as important as a tree or the Roman Catholic Church). Things are described neutrally, precisely, exhaustively and from a detached point of view, in an objective language - the kind you would use for instructive texts or legal documents, focusing on accuracy, and at the cost of brevity. (Joyce told his friend Frank Budgen that Ithaca was "the ugly duckling" in the book.)

And yet, things get out of hand, again. Though Ithaca seems to want to get a grip back on things and to regain control, the striving for precision and exhaustiveness defeats its purpose. See, for example, the wonderful, long list of what Bloom admires in water: the list grows and grows, but the longer it gets the more things are likely to have been left out, in a way. The more detailed the lists, the more things are likely be missing.