Tuesday, 23 June 2015, Pages 369 - 376, Sirens, End of episode 11

Today we completed reading Sirens, the 11th episode, the episode which is composed like a musical piece. The 'Sirens' here are Ormond hotel's barmaids, Mina Kennedy and Lydia Douce. They along with Simon Dedalus, Ben Dollard, and Father Cowley play apparently prominent roles in this episode. Bloom, the so lonely Bloom, plays a significant role too, even though not as loud a one as the others.

Last week we had left Ms. Douce occupied with the beerpull. On the piano in the bar, Father Cowley was accompanying Ben Dollard singing The Croppy Boy. (Links to the lyric and a recording are given in the previous post.)  Bloom, after having paid his bill and two pence tip to deaf Pat, and after having written a reply - in the guise of answering an ad - to Martha, has got up to go. He wants to get out before the song ends. (Very sad thing.) Bloom is still thinking of Blazes Boylan, imagining how at that very time Boylan would perhaps be knocking ( ... a cock with a carra...) at the door of Eccles street 7.

(FS in front of the door of Eccles street 7 at the James Joyce Center in Dublin)

Perhaps Bloom wants to avoid thinking of Molly (Suppose she were the?---). So he decides to walk, walk, walk. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell, a real Dubliner! As he gets up to go, he feels the lemon soap that has become rather sticky in his pocket. (Must have sweated...)

Ben Dollard sings the last lines of The Croppy Boy: 

At Geneva Barrack that young man died,

And at Passage they have his body laid.

Good people who live in peace and joy,

Breathe a pray'r and a tear for the Croppy Boy.

Geneva barrack was a depot for army recruits in southeastern Ireland that was converted into a prison in 1798 for the confinement of rebels. (Gifford 11.1131). Miss Kennedy whispers the name of the singer to one of customers. He murmured that he knew the name.

In Ormond's bar, Dedalus and others are talking about Bloom and Molly. The blind stripling is walking, tapping his way with his stock. Bloom, walking along Ormond Quay Upper feels queasy stomach. Gassy thing that cider... A wee little wind piped eeee. He wishes that he had that medicine, the wonderworker, he had ordered. This naughty Henry is carrying a letter for Martha, and the book, sweets of sin for Molly. He is thinking of music, of musical instruments. Even Molly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down, is like an instrument. He sees a frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat. He glances at the objects, including a gallant pictured hero, in Leonel Mark's antique saleshop window. Remembers the last words of Robert Emmet, an Irish patriot (late 18th century), who attempted to get Napoleon's assistance for an Irish uprising:
"Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth then and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done." (Gifford, 11.1275)

These sombre words are interspersed with the gas escaping from Bloom's stomach!

I have. Pprrpffrrppffff. Done.

Now, after having completed reading the last lines of Sirens, it is time to go back to the first two pages, to the overture of the episode. Suddenly everything becomes quite clear indeed!

Next we move on to 'Cyclops', where we shall be meeting The Citizen.

Tuesday, 9 June 2015, Pages 363 - 369, Sirens, Episode 11

Important: Next Tuesday, June 16th, is Bloomsday. There will be no regular reading session on the evening of Bloomsday. Instead the Zurich James Joyce Foundation has organized a marathon reading of Cyclops, episode 12. The event starts at 17.30h, and is open to all those who are interested. There will be some food too later in the evening. Anybody who wants to contribute to the buffet table should contact the Foundation.
The next regular reading session for our group will be on Tuesday, 23 June 2015.

Today we read as far as "... white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring." (Penguin 369.32) (Gabler 11.1117)

Two weeks ago,  the pages we read were structured around the aria "When first I saw that form endearing"..." from Martha. On the pages here the Irish folksong, The Croppy Boy, plays this role. (For the lyric, click here. Listen to the song here.) Joyce poses for us another major challenge on these pages. The lines from Martha's aria were given in italics, enabling us to recognize which part of the text was from the aria. Here we are not given any such help. The lines of The Croppy Boy are distributed (without any visual hint) amongst other echoes, thoughts, fragments of conversation etc.

(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Croppy_Boy#/media/File:Charlotte_Schreiber_-_The_Croppy_Boy.jpg)

Bloom and Richie are in the dining room. The barmaids are filling the tankards. By Larry O'Rourke's by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. In other words, Boylan is on Dorset street, and he has just to turn the corner to arrive at Eccles street 7 for his rendezvous with Molly.

Bloom listening to the music thinks that there's music everywhere. He feels that there is music in the movement of the sea, wind, leaves, ... in the sounds made by cows, cocks, snakes... - but not in the way Ruttledge's door at the Newspaper office (episode 7) creaks, cree! He thinks of the differences between male and female voices. Bloom recognizes music from Don Giovanni, and he recalls Molly singing the lines Quis est Homo from Rossini's Stabat Mater, though he confuses the composer to be Mercadante. He thinks of Chamber music; not the name of Joyce's first published book but of the 'music' made by Molly when she uses the chamber pot in the night.

Boylan has just alighted from the jig. Tap. (Does this word echo Boylan's knocking on the door of Eccles st 7 or the tap, tap of the blind stripling's cane?) Bloom decides to leave, after paying a tip to Pat, the deaf waiter. In the salon, the friends are discussing what to sing, deciding on The Croppy Boy  instead of on the aria from Mozart's Magic flute (Qui sdegno: In diesen heiligen Hallen). From here onwards, thoughts, fragments of conversations, echoes from earlier episodes are interspersed - sometimes in a single sentence - with lines from this Irish folksong. Whereas Simon Dedalus sang the aria from Martha, now it is Ben Dollard's turn to sing. Father Cowley is still at the piano.

Listening to Ben Dollard's voice, Bloom thinks of how he had once lent him a pair of trousers, how Molly had laughed saying, "With all his belongings on show", and how Ben, who was running a chandler's business, had ended up in the Iveagh home, a charity home run by one of the Guinness brothers. The sad song of the Wexford boys, last of his name and race, reminds Bloom that he is also the last of his race, his son Rudy having died in childhood.

Bronze and Gold are also moved by the singing. Bloom observes Bronze gazing sideways at the mirror. Bloom wonders whether it is her best side. He feels for these girls, who have to live on eighteen bob a week, apart from the dibs (tips) fellows shell out. Bronze-headed Lydia Douce continues to play with the beerpull suggestively.... a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring.

Tuesday, 2 June 2015, Pages 360 - 363, Sirens, Episode 11

While some of us were at Dublin, the rest of the reading group read until "By Larry O'Rourke's, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned." (Penguin 363.26) (Gabler 11.951)

The Dublin Group