Tuesday, 13 December 2016, Pages 923 - 933, Episode 18, End of Penelope, End of Ulysses

Important info:

A new round of reading Ulysses on Tuesdays with Fritz Senn will start on 17th January 2017 at 17.30h. PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD!

(Molly Bloom's statue in her fictional home in Gibraltar)

The eighth and the last 'sentence', rather stream of Molly's thoughts, starts with a 'no' and ends with a capital 'Yes'. (The book starts and ends with the alphabet 's'.)

Molly is wide awake. In fact she has not slept since Bloom fell asleep after kissing her bottom. Her thoughts have jumped from place to place, from person to person: Gibraltar, streets of Dublin, Howth, Bloom, Milly, Rudy, Boylan, Mulvey, Stanhope, Josie, Stephen...  Her most recent thought has been of Boylan, and how he had no manners (... pulling off his shoes and trousers there on the chair before me so barefaced without even asking permission and standing out that vulgar way...).

She once again thinks of all the amount of pleasure a woman's body gives men, and wishes, almost envying them that she were one herself for a change just to try with that thing... Molly is reminded of a vulgar song she had once heard, ".. my uncle John has a thing long..." but proves that she is quite a liberated woman with her thought, "... it (listening to cornerboys singing this song as she passed them) didnt make me blush why should it either its only nature..." Because its only nature, it would be much better if all remain friends, instead of being jealous of one another for doing whatever!

Her musings reveal a picture of the Blooms that shows the lack of intimacy in their daily life. Bloom is so cold, never embracing her except sometimes, whereas a woman (like her) wants to be embraced 20 times a day almost to make her look young. Molly seems to be so starved for love and so yearns to be in love or loved that she is ready to snatch some with a sailor or a wildlooking gipsy in Rathfarnham, the only problem being that half of them (sailors) are rotten again with disease. Still not pleased at having been asked to get his lordship his breakfast in the morning (it is never clear whether and when Bloom asked her to do that), Molly is all for the world to be governed by women, because a woman whatever she does she knows where to stop, and as they (men) dont know what it is to be a woman and a mother.

Her thoughts shift to Stephen who is running wild now out at night, and then to her own dead son, and to wondering whose fault it was that Rudy was born sick, dying soon after birth. She thinks of the moments of conception - we came together when I was watching the two dogs up in her behind. Bloom had thought of the same event on his way to the funeral of Paddy Dignam the previous morning. How life begins (Episode 6, Hades, Penguin, p. 110).  Soon Molly is out of this gloomy remembrance, returning to thoughts of women - we are a dreadful lot of bitches - a turn around from the earlier thought of the world should be governed by women!

It is Stephen again. Rather it is his last name that Molly thinks of next - Dedalus I wonder its like those names in Gibraltar - and is reminded of many funny names, such as Pisimbo, Mrs Opisso, she knew there. She tries some Spanish sentences to see if she has forgotten the language, and is satisfied that she hasn't forgotten it all. These thoughts are just interludes before returning to Stephen. The poor fellow was dead tired and wanted a good night sleep. She would have brought him his breakfast in bed, in a nice pair of red slippers and a nice semitransparent morning gown, and would have introduced herself to him, either with Im his wife or would have tried some Spanish, pretending that they were in Spain. In any case, just like Bloom, she too would love to have a long talk with an intelligent welleducated person. 

She gets quite 'heated up' thinking about Bloom and his vagaries, but at the same time her 'anger' gets tempered by the understanding she has for her husband. Does Molly have second thoughts of her afternoon with Boylan when she thinks, "... its all his (Bloom's) own fault if I am an adulteress...", further consoling herself with "... if thats all the harm ever we did in this vale of tears God knows its not much doesn't everybody (do it too) only they hide it ..."?

Drawers, underclothes, being kissed on the bottom ... Molly's mind is awash with these thoughts. She wants to buy new underclothes, but "because of this bloody pest of a thing (periods?)", she knows that she will have to wear the old things. It might even be better so as she tells herself, "... Ill wipe him off me just like a business his omission...."

It is almost 6 in the morning. (The nuns will soon be ringing the angelus.) An unearthly hour, though, theyre just getting up in China now coming out their pigtails for the day. (Why on earth Molly thinks of China and Chinese must remain a mystery here!) Molly plans to do the place up that day, in case he (Bloom) brings him (Stephen) home. They (Molly & Stephen) can have music and cigarettes, she can accompany him (for that she has to clean the keys of the piano with milk first). A big question is what she should wear (shall I wear a white rose). The thought of the white rose makes her recollect how she loves flowers (... Id love to have the whole place swimming in roses...), and triggers off recollections of nature, of wild mountains, the sea, waves, fields of oats and wheat, ... At this point when thoughts of nature come up, Molly's belief in the Creator surfaces. She has no patience left for atheists or whatever they call themselves ... they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow... 

sun is the cue to recollect Bloom telling her "... the sun shines for you...." on that day they were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head.  What follows is a fond recollection of her getting engaged to Bloom, which she did because she saw he understood or felt what a woman is and true to her pragmatic nature because she knew she could always get round him... Thoughts of Gibraltar alternate between those of Dublin... with Molly acknowledging to herself that she was leading him on till he asked her to say yes...

Which she did do by saying, "... yes I will Yes."

(Photograph of a poster at the Joyce Museum in Trieste taken by K.S.)

With that affirmation of life, we closed Joyce's Ulysses. With these words, I close this blog. It has been an incredible experience of reading Ulysses with Fritz Senn, and writing about it. Thanks to all who read the blog.

Tuesday, 6 December 2016, Pages 916 - 923, Penelope, Episode 18

We reached the end of the seventh stream of Molly's interior monologue, stopping at "... what am I going to do about him though"  (Penguin 923.32), (Gabler 18.1367)

This means that we have just one more stream of thoughts to read, and shall be finishing this round of reading Ulysses next week on 13th December, about 2.5 years after we started with the book on 27 May 2014. After the book is closed, it is planned to lift a glass in honour of James Joyce at the James Joyce Pub, Pelikanstrasse 8. Hope many of the members of the reading group will join!

Before looking at what all went through Molly's mind on these pages, it is interesting to read what Judge John M Woolsey said in his judgement on December 6, 1933 in New York. Richard Ellman* writes in his biography of Joyce, that Judge Woolsey put his view neatly and pungently:
I am quite aware that owing to some of its scenes 'Ulysses' is a rather strong draught to ask some sensitive, though normal, persons to take. But my considered opinion, after long reflection, is that whilst in many places the effect of 'Ulysses' on the reader undoubtedly is somewhat emetic, nowhere does it tend to be aphrodisiac.
'Ulysses' may, therefore, be admitted into the United States."

The rest, as we all know, is history!

Judge Woolsey

Last week, we had left Molly reminiscing about her visit to that dry old stick Dr. Collins for women diseases on Pembroke road. She had not liked him much, neither had she understood his words, though she thought she liked him when he sat down to write the thing out frowning so severe his nose intelligent like. He was also clever enough to spot that. Whatever that 'that' was, Molly knew that it was due to thinking of him (Bloom). During their courtship, Bloom had written to her quite mad crazy letters, had quoted from Keats. Molly, who remembers this as a thing of beauty and of joy for ever, does not of course know that it was from Keats. Thinking of Bloom's letters, Molly realises that she is still sitting on the chamber pot. Bloom is sleeping at the foot of the bed**, with his hand on his nose like that Indian god... all yellow in a pinafore lying on his side on his hand with his ten toes sticking out. 

Is Buddha, that Indian god with his ten toes sticking out?
Note Buddha is not a god, and is never pictured in yellow (pinafore) unlike Krishna, another Indian God!

Molly suspects that Bloom has been with some other woman. (I wonder was it her Josie.... but knows that he'd never have the courage with a married woman.) She is used to his throwing his sheeps eyes at those in skirts. She thinks of the various friends of Bloom, of Fanny MCoy who aspires to be a singer like herself (shed want to be born all over again), of poor Paddy Dignam (... what are his wife and 5 children going to do...). She is afraid that Bloom will lose his job (coming home with the sack soon... on account of those Sinner Fein or the freemasons.) She thinks of another book he had given her, Aristocrats Masterpiece (rather, Aristotle's Masterpiece!)

Molly then thinks of Stephen, whom Bloom had brought home in the night, whom she had seen eleven years ago as a eleven year old boy. (... a darling little fellow in his lord Fauntleroy suit...). She reads new meanings in the cards she had laid the previous morning (... he was on the cards this morning...). Molly fantasises about Stephen (... Im not too old for him if hes 23 or 24...). Asking herself why arent all men like that (young, like gods), she is reminded of the lovely little statue of Narcissus that Bloom had bought. That statue, not Stephen hopefully,  must be on Molly's mind, when she thinks: I could look at him all day long curly head ... often felt I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock.... I wouldn't mind taking him in my mouth ... (Think of Judge Woolsey's final words ;-))

Her thoughts clearly do return to Stephen. She wants to lay the cards again in the morning. Decides, 'Ill read and study all I can find or learn a bit off by heart ... so he (Stephen) won't think me stupid.'. As she day dreams about Stephen, she becomes aware of Boylan (what am I going to do about him though....) 

(Joyce has built in many songs on these pages too: O beau pays de la Touraine from Meyerbeer's opera Les Huguenots (listen here), Bill Bailey won't you please come home, a ragtime song by H Cannon (listen here), Phoebe dearest by Bellamy and Hatton (listen here),  goodbye sweetheart by J. Williams and J. L. Hatton... / listen here.)

* James Joyce by Richard Ellman, p. 667, 1983, OUP, ISBN 0-19-281465-6
** The bed connects Joyce's Ulysses to Homer's Odysseus. Bloom did not know much about the bed (... he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier...). Odysseus knew everything about it 'among men there is no one living... for built into the well-constructed bedstead is a great symbol which I made myself with no one else...'

Tuesday, 29 November 2016, Pages 906 - 916, Penelope, Episode 18

We read as far as "... his mad crazy letters..." (Penguin 916.20), (Gabler 18.1176)

(The countdown has started in earnest. My Penguin edition has 17 more pages only. After we reach Molly's ultimate yes, we will all go for a drink at the James Joyce Pub on the Pelikanstrasse.)

By now all of us have got used to the unbelievable manner in which Molly opens her thoughts to us. There is no topic that is taboo, there is no thought that she does not share with us. If some readers squirmed at some of the topics we have so far read, these pages will take away the last vestige of any such uneasiness still remaining!

Plaice, not place

Molly thinks, with relief, of the wind she just released in pianissimo (who knows if that port chop ... was quite good...), of the rotten cold in Gibraltar and how she used love dancing about in a short shift then make a race back into bed with that fellow opposite ...  there the whole time watching with the lights out, of their cat (what a robber too that lovely fish place - in non-Molly language, plaice - I bought...), of the fish she would like to buy in the morning ( I hate those eels cod yes Ill get a nice piece of cod...), a boat ride she had gone on with Bloom, of Milly and finally about her periods that just started. More significantly though, we start to get to know Bloom from her point of view, and we get to know the 'trouble' Molly had with Milly. As usual, her thoughts jump back and forth from one topic to the other.

At the start, she is occupied with thoughts of Gibraltar but soon they turn to Bloom. She hopes that hes not going to get in with those medicals leading him astray to imagine hes young again. (... squandering money and getting drunker and drunker couldn't they drink water....). She recollects a boat trip with Bloom. It must have been a rough ride, and Bloom was not an experienced boatsman (definitely no Odysseus!), as Molly thinks its a mercy we werent all drowned. She would have liked to have tattered his (Bloom's) flannel trousers down off him but for that longnosed chap and Burke (mentioned also in Cyclops, episode 12, Penguin p. 395) out of the City Arms Hotel, who were watching.  There was no love lost between Blooms and that longnosed chap. This thought makes Molly shortly remember the book, Sweets of Sin, by some one like Mr de Kock. She wonders whether he was given that name (as he was) going about with his tube from one woman to another. Soon she is back with her thoughts of the boat trip, when her new white shoes were all ruined with the saltwater. 'Saltwater' is a cue to think of Gibraltar, and of some people (Luigi, for one) she knew there. 

It is back to Bloom again. Bloom with all kinds of plans including all those lovely places they could go for the honeymoon (Venice by moonlight with the gondolas, the lake of Como), and converting part of their house to a musical academy. Plans that remained merely plans. Molly, who is obviously left alone in the house for the better part of the day, is obviously uncomfortable being alone. She thinks of that hardened criminal who was in jail for 20 years (Odysseus was on his voyage for that length of time too), and who came out and murdered an old woman for her money. She knows that there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows still its the feeling especially now with Milly away.... Bloom differs from Odysseus in yet another way. One night when she was sure she heard burglars in the kitchen, he went down in his shirt with a candle and a poker as if he was looking for a mouse as white as a sheet.

And so we come to Milly. To the relationship between Molly and Milly. To Milly having been sent away to learn to take photographs like his grandfather (Bloom's grandfather, Virag, had a photo atelier in Hungary.) Molly thinks it was done on account of me and Boylan.  Only he would get such an idea. Molly thinks of the stormy time they went through when Milly was home, of her tongue (to be) a bit too long, telling her (Molly), "your blouse is open too low." Molly even feels a bit "jealous" of the intimacy between Bloom and Milly, particularly as she notices he was always talking to her lately at the table explaining things. That feeling is compensated as she knows, if there was anything wrong with her (Milly) its me (Molly) shed tell not him (Bloom). Molly had tried to "teach" Milly proper manners, for example, not to leave knives crossed like that. She tells herself, "If he doesnt correct her faith (i.e., 'well', 'then') I will".  She also knows that Milly is like what she herself was at that age.

Thoughts return to her current life. Molly wonders whether she is ever going to have a proper servant again. But having such a person in the house means that shed (the servant would) see him (Boylan) coming. They had a domestic servant, old Mrs Fleming, (who is leaving them), who had once dropped a rotten old smelly dishcloth that got lost behind the dresser, which Molly had luckily retrieved. Otherwise, imagine, what the visitors Bloom brings home unannounced would think! Like that previous night when he brought Stephen home, and took him to the dirty old kitchen, where, thank god,  - it wasnt washing day - no old pair of drawers of Molly's were hanging. Molly is quite despondent, and thinks, "when Im stretched out dead in my grave I suppose Ill have some peace."

At that moment, her periods start. Molly spends the next moments wondering what am I to do (as Boylan is expected again on Monday), with this usual monthly auction (= action). She is reminded of one such experience when she and Bloom had gone to the Gaiety, (Bloom having been given free tickets by Michael Gunn, the manager of Gaiety), when she was very aware of her periods, when a gentleman of fashion was staring down at her, and Bloom was going on about Spinoza and his soul.
(Bloom had also thought of this moment in Sirens, episode 11, Penguin p. 367). The current feeling of inconvenience is compensated by the relief that he (Boylan) didnt make me pregnant as big as he is
Molly gets up, thinking, O Jamesy (Jesus or James J?) let me out of this, to use the chamber pot. How the waters come down at Lahore! (Typical of Molly to 'confuse' Lodore of the original poem by Robert Southey to be Lahore.)

We completed reading these pages with Molly's reminiscenses about a gynacologist, a Dr. Collinson Pembroke Road, she had visited. Next week, we shall deal with his mad crazy letters...