(Important info: The reading group will meet next on Tuesday, 6 January 2015. )
We read as far as "No gratitude in people." (Gabler 8.399) (Penguin 205.10)
Mr Bloom is still talking to Mrs Breen, whom he thinks of as being shabby genteel, as he observes her blue serge dress (she had that on two years ago) and the contents of her untidy bag. Deciding to change the subject (from U.P.:up), Bloom asks her whether she had seen anything of Mrs Beaufoy. Actually he had meant to ask about Mrs Purefoy but the name he utters is Beaufoy. This is an echo of what had happened that morning after Bloom had prepared and had breakfast. Asquat on the cuckstool, he had opened the newspaper in which there was that days's prize story, Matcham's Masterstroke. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers' club, London. Being aware of why he said Beaufoy instead of Purefoy, Bloom wonders whether he had pulled the chain after he finished his act. He remembers that he indeed had pulled the chain. (Read more about that episode here.)
Mrs Breen tells Bloom that Mrs Purefoy is in the lying-in hospital (maternity hospital) in Holles street. She has been in labour since three days. Bloom feels sorry to hear the news. As a known-figure, an eccentric of Dublin, whom Bloom says is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, passes them by, Mrs Breen notices her husband shuffling out of Harrison's, and hurries off to catch up with him. Bloom tells to himself, "Meshuggah". (Yiddish: eccentric, crazy; Gifford 8.314) Does he refer to Denis Breen or Cashel Farrell?
As Bloom passes the building of Irish Times on Westmoreland Street, he thinks of the advertisement he had placed in the paper: 'Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work.'
Though he thinks that there might be other answers (to his ad) lying there, Bloom is in no mood to check on them as he already has gone through fortyfour answers. That is how he had come in contact with Martha Clifford, from whom he had received a letter - with lots of questions - that morning. The other answer he thinks of is from Lizzie Twigg, who had recommended herself saying that her work had met the approval of the eminent poet A. E. (aka George Russell)
The paragraph that follows (Penguin 202.27ff) is full of ads that Bloom recalls. (It is not clear whether he is just remembering reading them or is actually reading them in the window of Irish Times.) As Bloom continues to walk, he thinks of poor Mrs Purefoy, and of her methodist husband. The word methodist rings in thoughts about the food they eat, the rules they have to keep, the many kids the Purefoys have (hardy annuals he presents her with), Mrs Purefoy groaning on a bed for three days, etc. Dreadful simply! Bloom is thankful that Molly got over lightly the delivery of Milly. Bloom thinks that they ought to invent something to stop that, of Twilight sleep idea (a partial anesthetic that had recently come into use), of Queen Victoria trying the same, and so on. Investing time to find such a solution would be - according to Bloom - much more useful than writing articles like the one Ned Lambert was reading loudly that morning in the Newspaper office (the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence).
Bloom thinks of Molly again. Of Molly with Mrs Moisel. (Mrs Moisel was a neighbor, and was pregnant at the same time as Molly.) He thinks of snuffy (sulky) Dr Murren. Of how people knock on doctors' doors at all hours. But keep them waiting months for their fees. No gratitude in people.
This post brings us to the end of 2014. We want to take this opportunity to thank you for your positive feedback about this blog, and to wish you all a great beginning to 2015!
Ch+Sa
We read as far as "No gratitude in people." (Gabler 8.399) (Penguin 205.10)
Mr Bloom is still talking to Mrs Breen, whom he thinks of as being shabby genteel, as he observes her blue serge dress (she had that on two years ago) and the contents of her untidy bag. Deciding to change the subject (from U.P.:up), Bloom asks her whether she had seen anything of Mrs Beaufoy. Actually he had meant to ask about Mrs Purefoy but the name he utters is Beaufoy. This is an echo of what had happened that morning after Bloom had prepared and had breakfast. Asquat on the cuckstool, he had opened the newspaper in which there was that days's prize story, Matcham's Masterstroke. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers' club, London. Being aware of why he said Beaufoy instead of Purefoy, Bloom wonders whether he had pulled the chain after he finished his act. He remembers that he indeed had pulled the chain. (Read more about that episode here.)
Mrs Breen tells Bloom that Mrs Purefoy is in the lying-in hospital (maternity hospital) in Holles street. She has been in labour since three days. Bloom feels sorry to hear the news. As a known-figure, an eccentric of Dublin, whom Bloom says is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, passes them by, Mrs Breen notices her husband shuffling out of Harrison's, and hurries off to catch up with him. Bloom tells to himself, "Meshuggah". (Yiddish: eccentric, crazy; Gifford 8.314) Does he refer to Denis Breen or Cashel Farrell?
As Bloom passes the building of Irish Times on Westmoreland Street, he thinks of the advertisement he had placed in the paper: 'Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work.'
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| Source: http://www.joyceimages.com/chapter/8/?page=7 |
The paragraph that follows (Penguin 202.27ff) is full of ads that Bloom recalls. (It is not clear whether he is just remembering reading them or is actually reading them in the window of Irish Times.) As Bloom continues to walk, he thinks of poor Mrs Purefoy, and of her methodist husband. The word methodist rings in thoughts about the food they eat, the rules they have to keep, the many kids the Purefoys have (hardy annuals he presents her with), Mrs Purefoy groaning on a bed for three days, etc. Dreadful simply! Bloom is thankful that Molly got over lightly the delivery of Milly. Bloom thinks that they ought to invent something to stop that, of Twilight sleep idea (a partial anesthetic that had recently come into use), of Queen Victoria trying the same, and so on. Investing time to find such a solution would be - according to Bloom - much more useful than writing articles like the one Ned Lambert was reading loudly that morning in the Newspaper office (the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence).
Bloom thinks of Molly again. Of Molly with Mrs Moisel. (Mrs Moisel was a neighbor, and was pregnant at the same time as Molly.) He thinks of snuffy (sulky) Dr Murren. Of how people knock on doctors' doors at all hours. But keep them waiting months for their fees. No gratitude in people.
This post brings us to the end of 2014. We want to take this opportunity to thank you for your positive feedback about this blog, and to wish you all a great beginning to 2015!
Ch+Sa
