Tuesday, 22 April 2014, Pages 929 - 933, Penelope, End of episode 18, End of Ulysses!

Today we ended our literary journey of James Joyce's Ulysses with the world famous "Yes." Penguin (933.9)

Molly has not slept since Bloom fell asleep after kissing her bottom. Her thoughts have moved back and forth amongst Bloom, Boylan, Stefan, Milly, Rudi, Mulvey etc. 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 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 (Stefan) home. They (Molly & Stefan) 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."

Thus we came to the last word, to the famous 'Yes' by Molly, to the last alphabet ('s') of the book which starts with another 's' (Stately, plump buck Mulligan....), and reached the end of our literary journey after nearly two and a half years. Did I write 'end'? Not really true as nothing really ends and the reading cycle starts again. Within a couple of weeks (i.e. around mid May)! This blog will also continue...

Tuesday, 15th April 2014, Pages 923 - 929, Penelope, Episode 18

We proceeded with Molly's Musings till "... ought to satisfy him..." (Gabler 18.1513), Penguin (929.19)

Thus we are in the eighth and last section of her interior monologue. Much of her thoughts here alternate between Stephen and Bloom. We had left Molly last week wondering, "what am I going to do about him though..." This 'him' (Boylan) does not come out flatteringly in this section. According to Molly he has no manners not no refinement not no nothing in his nature. It had disturbed her that he had slapped her on her behind, had pulled off his shoes and trousers ... without even asking permission,  and had stood in that vulgar way ... to be admired like a priest or a butcher. (It would be almost impossible for me not to think of this sentence when I see next a priest. I don't see so many butchers ;-))

(Image source: http://www.joyceimages.com/chapter/18/?page=25)

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!

The sentences that follow 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 (again, 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. (Ch. 6, Hades, Penguin, 110.31)

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 Stephan. 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. 

Molly is ready to give him (Bloom) one more chance. She will get up early in the morning and might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits. She will throw up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup, go about rather gay not too much, will let him know how it is with his wife. She seems to be suddenly in a rage, in a I-dont-care mood because she knows that theres the mark of his (Boylan's) spunk on the clean sheet that she wouldn't bother to even iron it out that ought to satisfy him...

Just four more pages to go!

Tuesday, 8 April 2014, Pages 915 - 923, Penelope, Episode 18

We reached "...about him though" (Gabler 18.1367, Penguin p. 923)

We read Molly's 7th (and second but last) 'sentence' today, which begins with her wondering about her monthly periods (set on early again) and whether she should see her doctor. This triggers thoughts about her last visit, when he had overwhelmed her with technical terms about female ailments and her body: she was confused by his use of the term "vagina", by what she remembers as "omissions" (when he probably meant "emissions"), but also by his euphemisms or avoidance of direct reference: "could you pass it easily pass what I thought he was talking about the rock of Gibraltar the way he put it" (18.1163). This was a time when, by contrast, Bloom was writing her romantic letters (himself borrowing lines from Keats to talk about the beauty of her body: "it is a thing of beauty and of joy" (18.1178)), which takes her back to memories and thoughts about Bloom's wooing her, his talks, his interests, his promises, the various jobs he held (and lost), their numerous moves later. It is here that we also read of Bloom's (supposedly) once having asked about being served breakfast in bed - which seems unlikely, however, and it remains unclear throughout the book whether he ever did say anything along those lines.

Molly is also using a (rather uncomfortable) chamber pot at the moment, she thinks about the odd position of Bloom's sleeping habits with her (they usually lie head to foot), and his foetal position reminds her of Aristotle's Masterpieces (which she remembers as "Aristrocrat's Masterpieces" (18.1238)) and the pictures of deformities it shows and that she clearly disliked. The subject of the bed is then brought into more focus and is developed against a Homeric backdrop: Bloom thinks their bed a special one, and one they got at a cheap price, too ("he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier that I used to admire when I was a little girl because I told him" (18.1213), but he is wrong. In Homer, the bed is an important motive since it becomes the issue around which Odysseus identity is finally proven (only he knows that the bed is built into a tree and cannot be moved). That is, Odysseus knows the secret of the bed; but in Joyce's Ulysses, Bloom does not know the secret of the bed, which provides what Fritz Senn's called a Homeric reference "in reverse".

Eventually, Molly hears the church bells strike 2 a.m. Her thoughts travel quickly from here and to various subjects (Bloom's making eyes at women, Dignam's funeral as reported in the papers, his wife and children, Fanny M'Coys pretensions as a singer, on the spendthrift men that make fun of Bloom, on Bloom's frugality, on Simon Daedalus's small flirtations with her, on his son Stephen etc.). Memories of seeing Stephen in the past (e.g. on the way to Rudy's funeral eleven years ago) bring on fantasies about Stephen in the present and about him as a potential lover for Molly. She thinks back to reading the cards in the morning and what they might have promised for the future (they had indeed brought "promise of a young stranger" and a "rise in society"), encouraging her thoughts about engaging with the young poet, who, presumably, would need a female subject to write about and for which she thinks she would make a perfect model: "Ill make him feel all over him till he half faints under me then hell write about me lover and mistress publicly too with our  photographs in all the papers when he becomes famous" (18.1363). The fantasies stop short at thoughts reality, however, with "0 but then what am I going to do about him though" i.e. Boylan.

General info: We may be able to finish the book next week (15 April) and, possibly, watch the film the following week, for those who are interested. Details will be announced.

Tuesday, 1 April 2014, Pages 908 - 915, Penelope, Episode 18

We completed the 6th (out of 8) section in this chapter, stoping for the day at "... how the waters come down at Lahore..." Penguin (915.17)

Molly muses much about Milly on these pages. At the start, for a while, she is still occupied with thoughts of that boat trip with Bloom. It must have been a rough ride, and Bloom was not an experienced boatman (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 chapter 12, Cyclops) 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, although she wrongly attributes its authorship to Mr de Kock, and wonder about the name. Soon she is back with her thoughts to 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 (for example, Venice by moonlight with the gondolas, and 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.

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.) Only Bloom 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 (= 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, chapter 11, page 367). The current feeling of inconvenience is compensated by the relief that he 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.)

Tuesday, 25 March 2014, Pages 901 - 908, Penelope, Episode 18

Stopped at "... do him all the good in the world...". Gabler (18.963), Penguin (908.15)

Molly is reminiscing about Mulvey from whom she learnt what kissing meant, and to whom she had told - for fun - that she was engaged (to be married in 3 years) to the son of a Spanish nobleman named Don Miguel de La Flora. (Well, if she did not marry La Flora, she did end up marrying Bloom: Flora, Bloom, Flower... there is a flower that bloometh...). Molly had taught Mulvey (who said that he was from Cappoquin, a small town on the River Black water in Ireland) how to count the pesetas and the perragordas, and all about the old Barbary apes. She thinks of the time they spent one day in May, on the day before he left, laying over the firtree cove, when she was wearing a white blouse that she had opened in the front to encourage him. Encouraged he certainly was, because she remembers that he wanted to touch mine with his for a moment which she wouldnt let him do. Ines, the old servant, had warned her that one drop even if it got into you at all, it would get you with a child embrazada. There follows in her thoughts quite a detailed description of their adventure together though lying in her bed now, Molly, who is not even sure of his name - Jack? Joe? Harry? - wonders about his age (about 40 perhaps), whether hes married some girl on the black water (his town in Ireland). She knows that she was a bit wild, and did things that the old Bishop preaching about womans higher functions would not approve. Not that she would mind as she thinks, God send him sense and me me more money!

Molly's thoughts turn to being Mrs. Bloom. She used to write it in print to see how it looked on a visiting card. In any case having Bloom as the last name is better than having Breen (Bloom had told her about meeting Mrs. Breen before he fell asleep) or Brigs or even Ramsbottom. Even Mulvey as a last name is not something she would be happy about.  All these names turn her thoughts to her mother, who had such a lovely name: Lunita Laredo ("Little moon" of Laredo; 18.282, Gifford), and with whom she had fun running along Williss road to Europa Point (the southern tip of Gibraltar).

Mulvey's memories return. Molly would have wanted to give him a memento. He had given her a Claddagh ring for luck. She had given this pure 18 carrot gold ring to Gardner, who had a mustache (Mulvey was cleanshaven), and who later died of enteric fever in South Africa.

Image source: http://galwaycity.galway-ireland.ie/claddagh-ring.htm

The sound of the train interrupts the flow of thoughts again. That weeping tone leads Molly to think of Love's Old Sweet Song, one of the songs she had rehearsed the previous afternoon with Boylan. Singing, music, concerts, remind Molly of her competitors, a lot of squealers. Molly obviously has little 'respect' regarding these Irish homemade beauties, because she knew more about men and life when she was 15 than theyll all know at 50.

Molly's feeling some wind inside - just as Bloom did at the end of Sirens, chapter 11 - makes her wish for even a bath, her own room, or at least own bed, so that she would not feel his cold feet on her. Her thoughts alternate for a while between songs, singing techniques, whatever caused the wind - (if that pork chop I took with my cup of tea after was quite good), and winter in Gibraltar, where that fellow opposite used to be there the whole time watching (Molly hopping around in her room in her skin) with the lights out.

All these memories, jumbling inside her brain, lead her away from any hope of sleep. Her thoughts return to Bloom, and his giving orders for eggs and tea and Findon hardy and hot buttered toast. Actually we did not read at the end of the previous chapter that Bloom told Molly to bring breakfast in the morning, though this chapter started with Molly thinking he never did a thing like that before. She in fact loves to hear him falling up the stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray. We have come a full circle almost. The previous morning Bloom had brought her breakfast in bed, had played with the cat in the kitchen. Like Bloom (Calypso, chapter 4) Molly wonders do they (cats) see anything that we cant.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014, Pages 893 - 901, Penelope, Episode 18

We read as far as, ".. theres many a true word spoken in jest...." Gabler (18.775), Penguin (901.8)

The thought of Bloom's teeth marks on her nipple reminds Molly when she was feeding Milly, she had enough milk for two, a fact which had led Bloom to suggest (jokingly? seriously?) that she could earn a pound a week as a wet nurse! When Milly had to be weaned, Molly had made Bloom suck the milk (otherwise the breasts were too painful). Bloom had found that Molly's milk was sweeter and thicker than that of a cow. These comments of Bloom are recalled with fondness, as Molly thinks that if she could only remember half of the things, she would write a book out of it the works of Master Poldy.

Feeling all fire inside, Molly relives her lovemaking with Boylan, wishing that he or somebody were there to let herself go with... O Lord I can't wait till Monday (when Boylan most probably returns for another rendezvous) ... The whistling sound of train makes Molly think of the poor men that have to be out all the night from their wives and families in those roasting engines. In this she comes across as quite a sympathetic person, caring, like Bloom, for people in unenviable situations. Her thoughts move on. To how hot the day was, how lovely and refreshing the rain that came was (See, Oxen of the Sun), just as she was thinking it could get as hot as in Gibraltar, where the Sun was so hot and one got so soaked (in sweat) that it faded all that lovely frock(s). Her father's friend, Mrs. Stanhope had sent her one such frock from Paris, and had written a p c (a post card) too. Mr. Stanhope was awfully fond of Molly and used to break his heart at her.  He was attractive to a girl in spite of his being a little bald...  Mrs. Stanhope had given her books to read: Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, East Lynne by Mrs Henry Wood, Henry Dunbar by that other woman (Molly forgets the author's - Mary Elizabeth Braddon's -  name). Molly had given the book to him (Mr. Stanhope?) with a photo of Mulvey, her first boy friend, to show that she indeed had someone. Whatever had happened to them in the mean time? Were they no more?

It was very dull in Gibraltar for Molly after the Stanhopes left. The days passed like years. She received not a letter from a living soul. It is not any better now. Molly is obviously quite lonely. How she wishes for some interesting encounters! She has no visitors or post ever except for cheques or some advertisements like that wonderworker that Bloom had received. (See, Ithaca). Even Milly sent her just a card. The last letter she herself had received (but for the one from Boylan received previous morning) was from Mrs Dwenn, who had written from Canada to ask for the recipe of pisto madrileno and from Floey Dillon, who wrote to say she was married to a very rich architect. Thinking of Floey makes Molly recall the death of Nancy Blake, a friend of Floey, and the problems related to writing letters. Apparently spelling is not a strong point of Molly. Bloom keeps on pointing to her the mistakes in her writing; for example, no stops. (Just as in her flow of thoughts, Molly's writing seem to lack punctuations!) Though Boylan had in fact sent her a letter, it wasnt much. She thinks, perhaps I could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me (in bed?). In any case she would use just a few simple words which one could twist how one liked.

Molveys was the first (letter she ever received?), that Mrs Rubio brought in when she (Molly) was in bed. Molly carried the letter inside her petticoat bodice all day reading it up in every hole and corner while her father was up at the drill instructing...

Thus these pages portray a Molly, who is lonely, is starved for companionship, for attention, and perhaps for some admiration.

A footnote:

Molly at one point thinks of "crossed letters". For those wondering what they are, a crossed letter is one  which contains two sets of writing on one page, one written over the other at right angles. Here's an example:

Tuesday, 11 March 2014, Pages 886 - 893, Penelope, Episode 18

Stopped reading at "... arent they fearful trying to hurt you...". (Gabler 18.570) (Penguin p. 893.13)

Last week we had left Molly thinking of Stanley Gardner, who had died of enteric fever, who was such a lovely fellow. She thinks now (lancers O the lancers) of how she loves to see a regiment like the Black Watch, a distinguished regiment of Scottish infantry (Gifford, 18.400) that she had seen at La Roque. Thoughts of cavalry lead her to think again of Boylan, whose father was supposed to have made his money by selling the same horses twice to the cavalry. So Boylan must be quite rich, and Molly forges plans of how to put that money to good use. She could, for example, make him buy her linen and one of those nice kimonos in Belfast ("... it would be exciting going round with him shopping buying those things in a new city...). As he has plenty of money and is not a marrying man, it is as well if Molly gets some (money) out of him.

Molly thinks of her love making with Boylan (... hes heavy too...), and how she would prefer if he put it from behind the way Mrs Mastiansky said her husband does it. That afternoon, stylishly dressed Boylan was in blazing anger when he read in the stoppress that he had lost twenty quids by betting on the wrong horse, following the tip given by Lenehan. (This horse race and the fact that Throwaway, an outsider horse, had won the race, has accompanied us since chapter 8.) The name Lenehan acts like a cue to remember the Glencree dinner, (Nausicaa, chapter 13)  and how he (Lenehan) was making free with her, and how too the lord Mayor was looking at her. The thoughts of the fine linen in Belfast have not left Molly. She would like to have at least two other good chemises and one of those kidfitting corsets, as they are praised in their advertisements that they give a delightful figure. Unlike Bloom whom she considers quite frugal and careful with money, Molly wishes that she could be a bit more free in spending (... I always want to throw a handful of tea into the pot...). With her three dresses and old hat, she knows that not only men wont look at her but women also try to walk on her.

She will be 33 in September. Women at that time seem to age fast. Like Mrs. Galbraith, who was much older than Molly, who had a magnificent head of hair that she used to toss back like Kitty OShea, but whose beautys on the wane. What about that Mrs Langtry, whose jealous husband is said to have made her wear a kind of tin thing (a chastity belt), something that is as "true" as the things (such as drinking the champagne out of her slipper after the ball was over) in some of the books that Bloom brings for her. She wishes that Bloom would chuck Freeman and would go into an office or something where hed get regular pay, and would even smoke a pipe like father to get the smell of a man... Shopping is still on Molly's mind. She thinks of one such event where she went shopping with Bloom, who thinks he knows a great lot about a womans dress.

At this point, Molly's musings get quite explicit. She thinks of her breasts in particular and breasts in general (... curious the way its made 2 the same in case of twins theyre supposed to represent beauty...). She thinks of the breasts of those (Greek) statues in the museum (where Bloom had gone in the afternoon to examine their rear parts! See Lestrygonians, chapter 8). In any case, it is obvious that Molly does not care much for the anatomy of the male (... they hide it with a cabbageleaf...). And she thinks of the dirty bitch in the Spanish photo Bloom has in his drawers (See Ithaca, chapter 17).  Her thoughts remain with Bloom, who can never explain a thing simply the way a body can understand (met something with  hoses in it; see Calypso, chapter 4), and burns the bottom out of the pan cooking kidney, whose tooth mark is still on her nipples...