Thursday, 28 January 2016

Tuesday, 26 January 2016, Pages 577- 584, Circe, Episode 15

Stopped at "... heroic defense of Rorke's Drift." (Penguin 584.5), (Gabler 15.781)

Bloom continuing his hallucinations of Mrs Breen recalls a trip to Fairyhouse races with himself, Molly, Milly and Mrs Breen. She had then worn a new hat, which he did not obviously like much. He tells her: "... it didn't suit you one quarter as well as the other ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing..." As Bloom is recalling the many things that happened then - like Molly's laughing, the tea merchant, Marcus Tertius Moses's driving past -, Mrs Breen fades away, saying eagerly, 'Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes" foreboding the famous last word (Yes) of this novel.

In a change from hallucination to reality, Bloom walks on, towards Hellsgates (read more about the area in the book, 'To Hell or Monto: The Story of Dublin's Most Notorious Districts' by Maurice Curtis) followed this time by the whining dog.  Outside a shuttered pub he sees loiterers listening to jokes and laughing. With his description of all these people, Joyce connects his Ulysses to that of Homer's. Homer's Circe converted Odysseus's men into pigs. Cheap whores, singly, shawled, disheveled, call from lanes, doors, corners. We again meet the two British soldiers, Private Carr and Private Compton, and the drunken navvy (a construction site worker), who is shouting the song, We are the boys of Wexford.

An interior monologue of Bloom's follows in which he wonders what a wildgoose chase this is. He asks himself: 'What am I following him for?' Naturally he knows the answer to that question. Because 'he's (Stephen) is the best of that lot'. Bloom does not know what to do with the parcels of food (crubeen and trotter) he is carrying. It was a waste of money. One and eightpence too much. (This last sentence is an echo of what father Daedalus had said that morning in the coach traveling to the funeral of Patrick Dignam. / See episode 6). Finally, with the retriever still behind him, Bloom goes to a dark stalestunk corner and lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide from his hands.

Any question one may have had about the dog(s) we meet in this episode, whether we meet the same dog that changes its appearance/breed every time we meet it or whether we meet different dogs at different times, vanishes here. In one single paragraph, the dog was a retriever at first, then a wolfdog, later a setter, finally a mastiff. Soon afterwards it becomes in turn a bulldog, a boarhound and a greyhound. The significance of the 'dog' will become clearer later in the episode!

The two police (watch) who appear demand that Bloom identifies himself. Their declination of Bloom (Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom.) stops with the accusative case befitting their accusation of Bloom. Here reality gets mixed with imagination, with hallucination. (The police are real enough. The gulls cawing in their 'gully' language, Bob Doran - we had met him earlier in Cyclops, episode 12, snoring drunk, blind to the world -, Signor Maffei and Martha people Bloom's hallucination.). There are many words/phrases that trigger this hallucination. Bloom's stammering that he is doing good to others brings forth the hallucination of the cawing gulls, whom he had fed earlier in the day Banbury cakes, for which he had not got even a caw as thanks from them. (See episode 8.) Now of course, they caw their thanks, saying 'Kaw kave kankury kake.' The thought of the highly demoralising tales of circus life brings forth the image of Signor Maffei.

In this part of the hallucinations, not only dogs but Bloom's hat also changes its appearance. He is wearing a high grade hat, when he tells the police that he is Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. Soon he is wearing a red fez, when he picks up the card that has fallen from inside the leather headband of the hat, and which proclaims that he in fact is Henry Flower of no fixed abode. The flower in question becomes the crumpled yellow flower that he had received that morning with the letter from Martha (See episode 5). As Bloom murmurs privately and confidentially that they are engaged, Martha appears, thickveiled, a copy of the Irish Times in her hand. Bloom had placed an advertisement - Wanted smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work - in that newspaper. (See episode 8). Martha sobbingly declares herself to be Peggy Griffin, accusing Bloom of breach of promise. Bloom tries to excuse himself, explaining, "I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character." He talks of his wife, the daughter of Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, who got his majority for the heroic defense of Rorke's Drift. (Note but that there was no Major Tweedy at the defense of Rorke's Drift in the war of 1879 between British and Zulu troops! Gifford 15.780-81) 

Friday, 22 January 2016

Tuesday, 19 January 2016, Pages 569- 577, Circe, Episode 15

Read as far as "Nice adviser!" (Penguin 577.21), (Gabler 15.554)

But first things first! Last week, the 13th of January was the 75th death anniversary of James Joyce. To mark the day quite a few articles were published in various newspapers. 
Sian Cain, writing in The Guardian asked, 'Is James Joyce's Ulysses the hardest novel to finish?'
Angela Schader of NZZ had a fitting reply to Cain's article in ' Lesefrust start Leselust?'

If you are tempted some day to join the Finnegans Wake reading group either on Mondays or on Thursdays at the Foundation, you would do well to read the following article from The Irish Times, republished on 13th January 2016:
'Endlessly exciting in its impenetrability': 1939 James Joyce review
The Guardian also had a link to Finnegans Wake: 
Billy Mills: Finnegans Wake, The book the web was invented for

Now back to Joyce's Circe!
The show place of the episode is the nighttown. At the end of the last episode, Oxen of the Sun, Stephen and Lynch had gone off together in search of a bawdyhouse. As Stephen, looking like a Protestant minister in his black garb, starts chanting portions of a mass, an elderly bawd (a brothel-keeper) tries to attract their attention. (Sst! Come here till I tell you. Maidenhead inside. Sst!)

Meanwhile, Bloom also reaches the nightgown, appearing flushed, panting, cramming bread and chocolate into a side pocket. Soon he has two more parcels in his hand, one containing a lukewarm pig's crubeen, the other a cold sheep's trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. Bloom is actually on the look out for Stephen. During his quest, Bloom's imagination runs riot. (Joyce uses hallucination as the basis of this episode.) Accordingly inanimate things become animated (the lemon soap in Bloom's pocket bursts out into a song: 'We're a capital couple are Bloom and I' / page 571), people who are long dead (Bloom's parents, Rudolf and Ellen) as well as people whom we had met on earlier pages (Molly, Mrs Breen, Denise Breen, Alf Bergen, Richie Golding, Pat, the waiter at Ormond hotel, Sweny, the pharmacist, ... ) make appearances, sometimes for a very short period. Animals also have their place, changing their nature/shapes (a dog appears often but every time it appears, it has a different incarnation; it is a liver and white spaniel on the prowl on page 564,  a sniffing retriever on page 568, a sniffing terrier on page 571). (All page numbers refer to the Penguin edition.)

(Daumier Honore: Caricature of hallucinating physician)
In short, the episode has a dream like quality in which reality and common sense take a back seat. The scenes change as each person (dead or alive) appears. This happens in quite quick succession. Joyce describes in minute detail how each of these characters are dressed. Pay attention to, for example, how the appearances of Ellen Bloom (Penguin 569.31) and Molly (Penguin 570.13) are described. Bloom also appears in different dresses and hats: a smart blue Oxford suit and a brown Alpine hat when he is hallucinating about his father, Rudolf (Penguin 569.18); when he first imagines talking to Mrs Breen, he is in a dinner jacket  (Penguin 574.23), soon is wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon (Penguin 575.4), and an oatmeal sporting suit and a grey billycock hat (Penguin 577.5). It is all very cinematic, very much like the script of a play. Thus this episode must be read with great care, not worrying about what is real and what is not!

It is also interesting to note how Bloom reacts to the various people whom he imagines. When his father, Rudolf, appears, Bloom regresses to his youth. His father scolds him, and says: 'how one night they bring you home drunk as dog after spend your good money... and what nice spectacles (from German, Spektakel) for your poor mother!' The reference to poor mother triggers the appearance of Ellen Bloom, crying out, '... My smelling salts!' Her taking the name of Mary is the cue for the appearance of Marion i.e., Molly. As Bloom tries to explain to Molly about going to the pharmacy and collecting that lotion, orangeflower water, Sweny, the pharmacist makes an appearance. The reference to the word Voglio hinting the word Vorrei from the aria of Don Giovanni brings Gerty MacDowell of the Nausicaa episode into the picture.  As in that episode, Gerty is still dreaming of getting married. As Gerty slides away, Mrs Breen appears. Bloom was courting her long time ago ('Twas I sent you that valentine of the dear gazelle/ Penguin 574.9). Here he asks her: 'Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for a fraction of a second?'  (Penguin 574.3). Her husband, Dennis Breen is there too and close behind him Alf Bergen, who had sent a postcard saying 'U. p: Up' to Mr Breen.  And so it goes on...

Saturday, 16 January 2016

Tuesday, 12 January 2016, Pages 561- 569, Circe, Episode 15

The group has started a new episode, "Circe", and stopped at “All that’s left of him.”
(Penguin  569.14), (Gabler 15.264).

Saturday, 9 January 2016

Tuesday, 5 January 2016, Oxen of the Sun, End of episode 14

Today we completed reading the last few pages of episode 14.

What an end! Joyce takes us on a real roller coaster ride on these pages. As it is we were exposed to a bewildering style - rather styles - of writing during the entire episode. Tracing parallely the  development of a fetus in the womb and the development of English language, paragraphs in this episode are constructed as imitations of various well known writers of English language over many a century. Joyce abandoned this experiment with the rushing out of Stephen & co from the maternity hospital to the pub. The remaining pages of the episode when the characters are gathered in the pub make a highly challenging experience to a general reader. It is not easy to make out who is talking, whether one is talking or simply thinking, let alone what really is being talked about. The mixture of languages that Joyce uses - gipsy slang, pidgin English, English spoken by blacks, Irish slang, cockney, Latin, Irish pronounciation of French, etc to name just a few - adds to the confusion. It is as if these pages evoke the birth of Finnegans Wake!

The friends are still in the pub. They have been drinking through the evening, first in the hospital, now in the pub. The hilarity of the assembly is hinted at the use of various songs and nursery rhymes (of course modified freely) as well as word plays (example: 'Caraway seed to carry away.') the bar tender comes to serve them once again. He is still unpaid. No shiners is acoming. Someone tells Stephen that they all came on his invitation and that it is up to him to pay. (Up to you, matey.) Somebody gets up to leave, bidding buy to the others. (Au reservoir, mossoo.)

Lenehan is going strong, recapitulating his earlier riddle of Rose of Castile, repeating about the betting - and losing - on that day's horse race. ('Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert.') Meanwhile people are leaving. Perhaps Stephen too. But whoever should accompany Stephen is not ready yet. He says: ''Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inagurated libation?" 

Obviouly Mulligan has vanished with a friend (Haynes?). Stephen, stone drunk, wonders who will provide him with a bed, now that Mulligan is gone taking the key to the tower with him: "Kind Kristyann wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee to find plais whear tu lay crown of his hed 2 night." (This is a beautiful sentence, the meaning of which will be clear when one reads it aloud!)

Bloom is still there. He is not known to all. For all we can decipher, the unrecognised man in macintosh, who was at Paddy Dignam's funeral (runefal) that morning, appears in the pub. Someone is puking outside the pub. The siren of a fire brigade is heard. Lynch and Stephen (?) move towards Denzill lane, to go to a brothel (bawdyhouse). They see a poster announcing the visit of the preacher, Alexander Dowie. Elijah is coming!

May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve!

(Circe, episode 15, starts on 12 January 2016.)

Note: This post is coming to you from Sils Baselgia. My apologies that there will be no blogpost next week on the 12th January, as I will have to miss the reading that day. If anybody wants to summarize what will be read in Circe and send the same to me, I shall be more than glad to post it here.

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Tuesday, 15 December 2015, Pages 547 - 555, Oxen of the Sun, Episode 14

It was a good place to stop our reading today, at "Per deam partulam et pertundam nuns eat bibendum!" (Penguin 555.32), (Gabler 14.1439)

It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the first paragraph we read today is as convoluted and long-winded as any we have so far read in this episode, Oxen of the Sun. The reason could be that Joyce imitates here the style of the 19th century English essayist and historian Thomas Macaulay, who is considered  to be 'a master of somewhat impetuous and unreliable history' (Gifford, 14.1174). Be that as it may be, we are confronted here with talks about science, what a man of science is like, what questions - such as the first question posed by public canvasser (Pubb. Canv.) Bloom (when did he pose this question?) regarding the future determination of sex - cannot be answered by science. At present. So the assembled people come up with all kinds of speculations about how the sex of a baby is determined during conception. Aristotle's theories in this matter are also mentioned, without naming him directly, of course. Mulligan, Doctor of Hygienics and Eugenics (Hyg. et Eug. Doc.) comes up with multiple reasons - sanitary conditions, hideous publicity posters, ... - to explain infant mortality, another problem posed by the same inquirer (Bloom), who pertinently remarks, we are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways. Mr. J. Crotthers comes up with other explanations, where as Lynch remarks that both natality and mortality, as well as as many other phenomena is subject to a law of numeration as yet unascertained. And so they go on. Even the phrase survival of the fittest is mentioned hinting at Darwin's theory of biological evolution. After all, everyone is assembled in a maternity hospital, and Mrs Purefoy has just given birth. Again. Fritz Senn opines that Joyce uses different styles of writing in this episode to show the evolution of language over the centuries.

Meanwhile, the style has changed to that of Charles Dickens (1812 -1870).
(Source: http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/37200000/David-Copperfield-1935-charles-dickens-37260933-1763-1381.jpg)
Joyce imitates scenes from David Copperfield, borrowing even the word, doady, which is the nick name given to David Copperfield by his girl-bride Dora. Naturally we do not read here about Dora and David. Instead we read about Mrs and Mr Purefoy and their children. One of their daughters is given the name Mary Alice. Mary was the sister-in-law of Dickens, and it is said that he idolized her. Alice is very close to Agnes, the one idolized by David Copperfield! Not just Dickens's, I feel that Omar Khayyam's words are also echoed here. Here Joyce writes: ' And so time wags on:...' One of the most famous verses of the 11th century Persian poet Omar Khayyam's is:

 'The moving finger writes; and having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.'
(Moving finger = time, moves = wags)

The paragraph that follows (There are sins or ....) in the 19th century style of Cardinal Newman aka John Henry Newman, for whom Joyce is said to have had lifelong admiration, seems to be examining the effect of a chance word has on memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the heart. I feel that here Joyce is talking of the effect on Stephen of the words of Lenehan, the crucial word being 'mother'. (Lenehan said, laying a hand on the shoulder near him, have no fear. He could not leave his mother an orphan. Penguin 543. 20) At the beginning of the novel, we were told that Stephen's mother had passed away, and that he did not oblige her wishes and pray at her death bed. Stephen is still suffering from these memories.

Bloom (the stranger) observes the face before him. That this must be Stephen's is hinted at by Bloom thinking of one soft May evening at Matt Dillon's place. It was the first encounter between Molly and Bloom. Bloom had also seen there a young boy (a lad of four or five) and his mother. Bloom sees this young lad in his memories, and thinks, 'he frowns a little just as this young man does now...', sees how the mother had watched her son with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach in her glad look.

In a very biblical sounding language (style: John Ruskin, the 19th century English art critic and reformer), not only the image of the birth of Jesus in a stall is evoked to mention once again Mrs Purefoy and her new born baby but also the beginning of Genesis is evoked with the last words of the paragraph; ... so and not otherwise was the transformation, violet and instantaneous, upon the utterance of the word.

What was this special word? Burke's!, a pub at the corner of Denzille and Holles street. It was nearing 11 pm, the closing time of the pub! So all those assembled there gather in a hurry their belongings and leave the room. Bloom lingers back to send a kind word to the happy mother. While going out he whispers (to the nurse): 'Madam, when comes the storkbird for thee?' The others are already rushing out for yet another drink, thinking, 'Per deam partulam et pertundam nunc est bibendum!' (By the goddesses Partula and Pertunda now must we drink!)

Note: This is my last blog post for 2015! I thank you all for your kind words and deeds about this blog, and wish all of you happy holidays and a good start to 2016. May the new year bring peace to the world!
Chandra

Sunday, 13 December 2015

Tuesday, 8 December 2015, Pages 540 - 547, Oxen of the Sun, Episode 14

We read as far as "... for ages yet to come." (Penguin 547.15), (Gabler 14.1222)

Mr. Bloom had been reminiscing as Mulligan was talking (we don't know what actually) to the friends gathered in the hospital ('Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror.' / Penguin 539.6). Haines has come and has left. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. We are reminded again of the murder of Childs, whose house the people in the carriage on their way that morning to the funeral of Patrick Dignam had passed. Bloom is still not paying any attention to the happenings around him. He sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, ... It is as if a magical wand, a magical mirror  is revealing to him his earlier selves. What is the age of the soul of man? He sees the young Bloom on the way to school, sees himself as a young adult working already for the family firm, bringing home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm (his father) seated with Jacob's pipe ... He thinks of his first sexual encounter with Bridie Kelly on a drizzling night in Hatch street. He will never forget the name, ever remember the night...  He also thinks that he has no son unlike his father Rudolph who had him, Leopold. (That he had a son, Rudy, who died soon after birth is not mentioned here though).

Joyce has written the above contemplative part in the style of the 19th century British author, Charles Lamb. It is a move from the rational style characteristic of the 18th century to the romantic movement of the 19th. The following paragraph (The voices blend... / Penguin 541.28) is also in the style of the work 'The English Mail Coach' by the 19th century English essayist, Thomas de Quincey. (For more info, see Gifford 14.1078-1109. Quincey is famous for his work, Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. As Fritz Senn explained, this episode is also opium like, heavy in its style.)

(Source: Wikipedia)

Bloom is still immersed in his own thoughts. It is as if he is seeing a vision. He feels as if the soul is wafted over regions of cycles of generations that have lived. He sees Milly and Molly - Milly following her mother with ungainly steps, and Molly like a mare leading her fillyfoal. That vision too vanishes. All is gone. The rest of the paragraph is heavy, loaded with literary references. We are reminded of Isaiah's prophecy in the Old Testament on the woes that visit the unbelievers of Israel (...screechowls), of the prophet Jeremiah's predictions (... the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon), of T. S. Eliot's 'The Waste Land', of Homer's Odysseus (... murderers of the sun), of Yeats's play, 'The Countess Cathleen' (... parallax stalks behind and goads them...), and so on. It is like apocalypse itself. Everything moves towards the sea of death (Lacus mortis). Suddenly there is a change of tone, there is the harbinger of hope (And the equine portent grows again) with its reference to constellations of stars in the sky, to the daystar, to Martha, Milly, the young, the dear, the radiant.

Change of scene, change of style. Francis (Costello) is talking to Stephen about a couple of people they knew when they were at school together. Stephen is not interested in them (Why think of them?). He refers to them as poor ghosts, wondering - comparing himself to Odysseus- whether he can call them into life across the waters of Lethe ( a river in Hades, the water of which the dead were to drink to forget their earlier life). But Stephen has not been able to lay his own ghosts as is apparent when he is reminded of his mother's recent death. Still he continues to sit there, as Lenehan and others start again talking of the horse race of the day in which the outsider, Throwaway, had won, and of Lenehan's girl. Lenehan and the girl had met Father Conmee earlier in the day as they were coming out from the gap of a hedge. (See episode 10, The wandering rocks)

Meanwhile Mulligan notices that Bloom has withdrawn into himself (His soul is far away). But Bloom is not anymore reminiscing. He is looking at the scarlet label of the beer bottles opposite him.
(Source: https://porter21.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/Bass-Ale.jpg)
His and Stephen's eyes meet. Bloom pours some beer into a glass for Stephen. We again read about the various people assembled there. Only the chair of the resident (Dr Dixon) indeed stood vacant.  It is in these lines that the real life counterpart of Mulligan is revealed: Malachi Roland St John Mulligan aka Oliver St John Gogarty. 

Saturday, 5 December 2015

Tuesday, 1 December 2015, Pages 534 - 540, Oxen of the Sun, Episode 14

We stopped at "Murderer's ground." (Penguin 540.9), (Gabler 14.1037)

In the preceding week, we had left Bloom thinking about the brash behavior of the youth around him. Though the style of that paragraph was not something we usually associate with Bloom, what we encountered there was typical indeed of our Bloom. As ever, he was ready to find excuses for his fellow human beings, attributing such boisterous behavior as he was witnessing to their age. He was also thankful that the ordeal Mrs. Purefoy, whom he had come to enquire after, was facing, was finally over, testifying to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme being.

First of all about the literary styles Joyce uses on the pages we read today. The most prominent style is that of political satire and rhetoric, first in the style of the Irish playwright, parliamentarian, Brinkley Sheridan (starting with the sentence, 'Accordingly he broke his mind...' Penguin 534.3), and then in the style of a political satirist with the penance, Junius (starting with the sentence, 'But with what fitness...', Penguin 535.3).  We also have a paragraph written in the style of gothic romances (starting with 'But Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror.' Penguin 539.6). But these are not pure styles. The paragraph in the gothic style gets mixed up with that of Shakespearean language.

When Bloom expresses his feelings to the one sitting next to him (we do not know who this dressy young blade, Bloom's neighbor at the table, was), the reaction he gets is that it was her husband that put her in that expectation... unless she were another Ephesian matron. (Read here the story of The Ephesian Matron as told in the Tales of Jean de La Fontaine)

(The Ephesian Matron/
Source: https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/l/la_fontaine/jean_de/tales/complete.html#chapter19)
As the  assembled young blades continue to make jokes about the whole affair, dragging in Mr Purefoy (old Glory Allelujurum, old bucko,...), Bloom wonders how the mere acquisition of academic titles turns such frivolous people into respectable doctors (... exemplary practitioners of an art which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest...).  He further excuses their jokes telling himself that they do so to relieve pentup feelings, as after all birds of a feather laugh together. This is another typical Bloomian confusion, the words of this famous nursery rhyme being, "Birds of a feather flock together..."

At this point, the novel questions - in the style of the political satirist, Junius - what right Bloom, an outsider (this alien) has to raise such questions, to have such thoughts. (Where is now that gratitude which loyalty should have counseled? Penguin 535.3) He should not be preaching any gospel, as obviously not everything is ok at home (... a seedfield that lies fallow... Penguin 536.2), as he obviously has a habit that is reprehensible at puberty..., perhaps a reference to his masturbating on the Sandycove beach. (See Nausicca). 

Let us step out of Bloom's mind, and look at what is happening around him. Here Joyce offers us the style of the 18th century English historian, Edward Gibbon, the author of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. After the news of the birth which the nurse had brought,  Dixon, the junior medical officer in residence, had left the assembly and gone to help the mother.  Once he left, the company breaks out into a strife of tongues. Mr Bloom's attempts to urge, to mollify, to refrain have no effect whatsoever. Each one of the others comes out with what all can go wrong in childbirth. We are treated to a cascade of medical terms, intelligible only to the initiated. When Madden and Lynch start discussing about the juridical and theological dilemma created in the event of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other (Penguin 538.30), the matter is referred to Bloom, who passes it on to Stephen (Coadjutor Deacon Daedalus). Stephen, who has remained silent so far on these pages, quotes in answer from the gospels: 'What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.'

Now we are in the world of gothic literature (But Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror. Penguin 539.6) Haines appears on the scene. We are taken back to earlier episodes, to the case of Samuel Childs murder (episode 6, Hades), to the episode of black panther (episode 1, Telemachus). Words from Hamlet make yet another appearance as do sentences that were spoken on earlier pages. For example, we had read the last sentence we read today, 'Murderer's ground' earlier on page 125 (Penguin). It is as if the novel is repeating itself. It is as if the novel is building a bridge between morning and night.