Wednesday 22 July 2015

Tuesday, 22 July 2015, Pages 394 - 402, Cyclops, Episode 12

The group stopped reading after the execution scene and will continue from: "So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language" (Penguin 402.13), (Gabler 12.679).

Note: There will be no reading during the first week of August due to the Workshop held at the Foundation. Therefore, there will be no reading on Tuesday, 4 August 2015.

Neither Chandra (the regular blogger) nor Sabrina (who stands in occasionally) were able to attend this week's reading, so that they can only tell you how far the group read but can offer no comments about the reading with Fritz :-(

Comments/questions from you are most welcome! Click "No comments" in blue type below to post a note.

Saturday 18 July 2015

Tuesday, 14 July 2015, Pages 384 - 394, Cyclops, Episode 12

We stopped after reading "... in articulo  mortis per diminutionem capitis." Penguin (394.17), Gabler (12.478)

On these pages, Joyce intercepts ordinary conversations with snippets of Homeric language (See, for example: And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, ... Penguin 385. 18 ff; The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered medical evidence.... Penguin 394. 4 ff)) and flights of fancy such as the wonderfully funny verbal excursion on the practice of seance (Penguin 389.1 ff). He balances Alf Bergan's and Joe Hynes's jokes with Bloom's serious discourses about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.  In short, as Fritz Senn says, Joyce's technique here is gigantic; everything is elaborated, exaggerated.

In Barney Kiernan's pub, Joe Hynes and our anonymous narrator are being served by Terry. Hynes pays for the pints with a sovereign, that he says was given to him by Bloom, referred to here as the prudent member. (Bloom was a Freemason, and the Masonic order forbids, among other things,  imprudent conversation.) The citizen is busy reading the birth, marriage and death notices in the Freeman's Journal (the old woman of Prince's street). His dog, old Garryowen, bears its teeth, growling now and then, and gets kicked in its ribs as a reward. Bob Doran (a character we know from the story, The Boarding House, in Dubliners) is sitting in a corner in a stupor, snoring drunk, blind to the world.

This group of pub-goers is joined soon by little Alf Bergan, a godlike messenger who comes swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth. Alf is doubling up with laughter, remembering how Mr. Breen was upset because of the card - where it was written u.p.: up - he had received that morning. (It is obvious that Alf Bergan was the author of that card.) That he is a bluffer becomes clear to all those assembled there, when he says that he had just seen Willy Murray with Paddy Dignam in Capel Street. (Willy Murray was the name of one of uncles of Joyce; Gifford 12.213.) Joe tells Alf that he saw perhaps his (Dignam's) ghost. It is this word, ghost, that provides Joyce the golden opportunity of making a parody of the beliefs of the Theosophical Society, of which prominent Dubliners such as Yeats were members. He embellishes his description of how a seance could look like by using a lot of modified Sanskrit words such as pralaya, (the original Sanskrit word has no elongated 'a's and means deluge that ends the world), jivic (jiva - with an elongated 'i' - in Sanskrit means breath, life), atmic (the Sanskrit word atma - in which the first 'a' is elongated -  means soul). He even uses the symbol utilized in the Roman script to indicate the elongated 'a' of Sanskrit in parodying language, creating words such as tālāfānā, ālāvātār, etc! Read this paragraph (page 389 of the Penguin edition) loudly to enjoy what Joyce has created here!

As Alf Bergan is sharing with his comrades some letters from his office, Bloom who has been walking up and down outside the pub, enters. The growling dog is silenced by the citizen. Otherwise, none pays any attention to Bloom's entrance, with Joe starting to read one of the letters produced by Bergan. It was an application for the job of a hangman. When finally Joe asks Bloom, 'What will you have?', Bloom dithers a long time saying he wouldn't and he couldn't etc, settling at the end for a cigar. (This is yet another example of how Bloom is an outsider among the Dubliners.)

The topic moves back to capital punishment, to hanging. Bloom starts talking of the whys and the wherefore and all the codology of the business, its deterrent effect and so forth and so on. Meanwhile the citizen's dog is smelling him all the time leading to the narrator's comment, 'I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odor coming off them for dogs...'. The word 'deterrent' triggers off Alf Bergan's comment, 'There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on... The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged...'. Whereas Joe tries to make a commonplace comment, saying, 'Ruling passion strong in death', Bloom starts explaining what happens scientifically. Again our Bloom stands out as an outsider. 

Tuesday 7 July 2015

Tuesday, 7 July 2015, Pages 380 - 384, Cyclops, Episode 12

We have now read up to: "a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone" (12.205). The next paragraph starts: "So anyhow Terry".  

The 12th episode, also called Cyclops, opens with someone in the role of the narrator but who is himself nameless. It is five o'clock in the afternoon, and he says he was just talking to Old Troy of the DMP (Dublin Metropolitan Police) when a chimney sweep passed by and nearly put out his eye with his broom and ladder. He then says how he has been trying, without success, to collect bad debt from a plumber called Geraghty, who had bought tea and sugar from a Jewish dealer and then failed to pay. He sees Joe Hynes coming down from a meeting of the Cattle Traders Association in the City Arms Hotel. Joe Hynes feels he has to tell someone called the Citizen (for reasons we are not told) what went on at this meeting, and he suggests that they go for a drink. They walk round to Barney Kiernan's, a pub in Little Britain Street (i.e. Britanny Street), near the Court House. Indeed, barristers from there used to adjourn to Barney Kiernan's to drink and discuss cases.

On a geographic level, we leave Bloom, who is coming out of the Ormond Hotel (10), and go up to Britanny Street (15):

(James Joyce's Dublin: A Topographical Guide to the Dublin of "Ulysses" by Ian Gunn, Clive Hart, Harald Beck, p. 61; with thanks to Bill Brockman for finding this map for the blog)

For historic maps (e.g. the zoomable ones from 1885 or 1935) go to: http://www.swilson.info/mapsdublincity.php

When the nameless narrator and Joe Hynes go into the pub, they find the Citizen sitting there with a sheaf of papers, waiting for someone to buy him a drink, and a rather fearsome dog called Garryowen sitting at his feet. The Citizen is said to be working for "the cause" (which could refer to the revival of Irish or to Irish independence) (12.123). The Citizen is a rather narrow minded nationalist, modeled on Michael Cusack (1847-1907), founder of the Gaelic Athletic Association, which was dedicated to the revival of Irish sports such as hurling, Gaelic football, and handball. The Irish Revival was very topical at the time our story takes place. Cusack styled himself "Citizen Cusack" (Gifford on 12.58).

The narration in this episode can be described as being made of two strands: the account of a talkative eyewitness alternating with parodic insertions (the word Fritz Senn often uses is "interpolations"). These interpolations are not interruptions, however. They rather take the action to an extreme: e.g. the various lists that go on and on and get out of hand, turn into something unexpected, suddenly inserting elements that do not fit; or e.g. the reference to a debt, which triggers the description of a purchase in the legal language of a contract. Or mention of the Citizen who, in the second, parodic voice, is described as a sort of prehistoric Irish warrior, adorned with tribal figures: these are given in a list of Irish heroes, some genuine, some fake, which grows completely out of proportion ("The figure seated ... stone" 12.151 ff.)

The language can become rather violent, which is reminiscent of the big uncouth giants in Homer. But, at the same time, it drifts into parody: It is as though the narrating voice had to pile things up, as if there was an urge to say it over and over. Like in Homer, adjectives are piled up, the language becomes cumulative, hyperbolic.

Wednesday 1 July 2015

Tuesday, 30 June 2015, Pages 377 - 380, Cyclops, Episode 12

Hello!

As both myself and Sabrina are away, may I request one of you to enter in the comments details - last sentence, page number in Penguin and/or Gabler edition - of how far you read today? The comment box is below. Just click on the symbol of the pencil to start.

Thank you
Chandra