We read as far as "... complete corporal liberty of action had been circumscribed."
Penguin (869.28)
Last week we had left Bloom mulling about the imperfections of the day, which were many indeed: not being able to obtain the renewal of an advertisement, not being able to obtain a certain quantity of tea from Thomas Kernan, not being able to make sure whether or not the Hellenic female divinities in the National Museum had posterior rectal orifices, not being able to obtain admission to the Gaiety Theater, ...
We had in fact left Bloom in his living room, but unbeknown to us he has entered his bedroom. We had seen the previous morning how Molly carelessly discards her clothes (Penguin, 75.1). It is so even now. Bloom notices a number of her clothes lying haphazardly on top of a rectangular trunk. (The trunk bearing the letters B. C. T. (Brian Cooper Tweedy) makes him think of his father-in-law.) Bloom's eyes also catch sight of many other objects - some a bit damaged - dispersed in the room. Bloom sheds his clothes, deposits them on a chair, gets into a nightshirt by inserting his head and arms into the proper apertures, prepares the bedlinen, and finally gets into the bed.
What catches his attention immediately? New bedlinen, presence of a human form, female, hers, the imprint of a human form, male, not his, AND crumbs of potted meat.
Penguin (869.28)
Last week we had left Bloom mulling about the imperfections of the day, which were many indeed: not being able to obtain the renewal of an advertisement, not being able to obtain a certain quantity of tea from Thomas Kernan, not being able to make sure whether or not the Hellenic female divinities in the National Museum had posterior rectal orifices, not being able to obtain admission to the Gaiety Theater, ...
We had in fact left Bloom in his living room, but unbeknown to us he has entered his bedroom. We had seen the previous morning how Molly carelessly discards her clothes (Penguin, 75.1). It is so even now. Bloom notices a number of her clothes lying haphazardly on top of a rectangular trunk. (The trunk bearing the letters B. C. T. (Brian Cooper Tweedy) makes him think of his father-in-law.) Bloom's eyes also catch sight of many other objects - some a bit damaged - dispersed in the room. Bloom sheds his clothes, deposits them on a chair, gets into a nightshirt by inserting his head and arms into the proper apertures, prepares the bedlinen, and finally gets into the bed.
What catches his attention immediately? New bedlinen, presence of a human form, female, hers, the imprint of a human form, male, not his, AND crumbs of potted meat.
What is home without
Plumtree's potted meat?
Incomplete
With it an abode of bliss.
(Penguin, 91. 10)
This unmistakable proof in the bed (that certainly makes one question the assertion in the above advertisement of a home with Plumtree's potted meat being an abode of bliss) of the happenings of the afternoon starts off in his mind a list, a series, of possible suitors of Molly, starting with Mulvey, her first boy friend, and ending with Boylan. (This long list must naturally be taken with a big pinch of salt!) Bloom, who considers Boylan to be a bounder, a bill-sticker (Penguin, 711.19), a bester and a boaster, feels envy, jealousy, abnegation, and equanimity at the thought of his having been the last occupant of the bed.
The paragraph (Penguin, 865.7) that describes why/how Bloom feels equanimity is for me one of the best paragraphs of the novel. These reflections /descriptions elevate Bloom (the eternal outsider, the naive, the one to whom hardly people listen to, the one who truly cares not only for Stephen but also for a Mrs. Purefoy in labour, the one who cares more for science than for nationalism,...) to a special level, differentiating him from ordinary mortals! The adultery Molly commits with Boylan is for him an act that is very natural, that is more than inevitable. He reflects on various kinds of crimes that one could commit, that are more heinous than adultery in the world. Bloom reminds himself of the apathy of the stars, i.e., he knows that it matters little to the world if Molly commits adultery. He would have smiled if he indeed would have smiled thinking of the inanity of extolled virtue, of the silliness of enthusiastically praising virtue.
Bloom's kissing (as an act of quiet acceptance of what had happened?) the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, wakes up the sleeping Molly, who asks him how his day was. (Note that Bloom does not ask her the same question!) In answering the question, Bloom, careful to leave out unsavoury details - his clandestine correspondence with M.C., the altercation with the Citizen in Kiernan's pub, his behavior caused by the exhibitionism of Gerty on the beach - tells her only about the nice things that he experienced that day, including meeting Stephen Dedalus, professor and author.
