Tag Archives: Ulysses

Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 9

Raphael's "School of Athens" (detail)

Raphael’s “School of Athens” (detail)

This episode corresponds with Book XII of Homer’s Odyssey, where Odysseus has to navigate between Scylla and Charybdis. It symbolizes being stuck between two powerful forces, both of which are destructive. The episode takes place in the National Library, where Stephen Dedalus is presenting his theory on Hamlet, asserting that Hamlet’s father in the play is representative of Shakespeare the individual. He tries to navigate between the two extreme views, one that posits that knowing the history of an artist’s life is important in understanding that artist’s works, and the other that art should be appreciated for art’s sake, without focus on the artist’s life. The argument incorporates the conflicting views of Aristotle and Plato on the value of art, whether it is an imitation of life or whether art is an ideal to which humans should strive.

Reading this episode, I felt like I was personally navigating between the two extremes. At times it felt very difficult to stay centered in the flow of the text and not get sucked into the whirlpool or chewed up by the multi-headed beast. I suspect that this was intentional on Joyce’s part and that he made this section difficult in order to instill the feeling of being torn and trying desperately to remain on course.

For this episode, rather than attempting to summarize everything that is addressed in this very dense text, I decided to pick a single paragraph and analyze it closely.

—All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracle out of his shadow. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. Clergymen’s discussions on the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal us ideas, formless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a work of art is how deep a life does it spring. The painting of Gustave Moreau is the painting of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, the words of Hamlet bring our mind into contact with the eternal wisdom, Plato’s world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys.

(p. 185)

In this passage, George Russell (A.E.) expresses the Platonic ideal that art should be an expression of the ineffable ideal which is formless and cannot be fully grasped by the conscious mind. He criticizes Stephen, who leans toward the Aristotelian. Stephen bases his theory on analysis and criticism and tries to avoid getting pulled into the formless whirlpool of ideals that is the basis of Plato’s philosophy. But I can’t help feeling that Stephen has a little bit of the Platonic in him. He is, after all, a poet, and though he strives to be an academic, he still has an artistic side.

When Joyce writes that A.E. speaks from “his shadow,” he is alluding to Plato’s allegory of the cave in The Republic. Art, according to A.E., is what allows people to view the flame of divine consciousness as opposed to the mere shadows cast upon the cave wall.

The last sentence of A.E.’s quote appears to be a direct jab at Stephen. Stephen is young, essentially a student in Russell’s eyes, just as Aristotle was a student of Plato’s and therefore not as qualified, in A.E.’s opinion. Stephen is also teaching schoolboys. Essentially, he is saying that Stephen is just not experienced enough to fully comprehend the true nature of art, the purpose of which is to communicate directly with the psyche and provide a glimpse of the part of us which cannot be grasped by our normal state of awareness.

While I concede the value of analytical thought, I am a romantic at heart and tend to lean toward the Platonic ideal. Still, I relate to Stephen, trying to navigate between these two opposing ideologies. I suppose that personally, I run the risk of being drawn into the whirlpool and losing myself in the mystic, which is why it’s important to try to stay grounded.

Next week, I’ll cover Episode 10 which ends on page 255 with the phrase “…sturdy trousers swallowed by a closing door.”


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8


 

References:

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/section9.rhtml

http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/530331/Scylla-and-Charybdis

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 8

Lestrygonians

This episode corresponds to the section in Homer’s Odyssey regarding the Lestrygonians, who were cannibalistic giants that destroyed most of Odysseus’ ships by hurling boulders at them. Images of gluttony and consumption appear throughout this episode.

Early in the episode, Bloom is thinking about the death of Stephen Dedalus’ mother which leads him to consider the strains of having a large family. He sees children as the devourers of their parents, almost a reversal of the Kronos myth where the father devours his children.

Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That’s in their theology or the priest won’t give the poor woman the confession, the absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you out of house and home.

(p. 151)

As Bloom walks and the hour approaches noon, he gets hungry. Joyce uses cannibalism as a metaphor to describe Bloom’s feelings. He feels drained and weak, as though his energy was consumed by those people with whom he interacted earlier in the day. I can relate. Sometimes I have to interact with people who seem to feed off my very being.

This is the very hour of the day. Vitality. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed.

(p. 164)

Bloom goes to Burton’s restaurant to eat and is repulsed by the men there savagely consuming meat, which I find ironic considering the relish with which Bloom ate the kidney earlier in the book. I suspect he experienced one of those moments of horror when you see yourself in others and feel disgust at the realization that you are no different from them.

His heart astir he pushed in the door of Burton’s restaurant. Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slop of greens. See the animals feed.

(p. 169)

Unable to dine in Burton’s he turns and exits. At that moment he has an epiphany as he realizes that killing is a part of eating and that in our society, just as in the animal world, there are two kinds of creatures: the hunters and the hunted.

He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street. Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill!

(p. 170)

Bloom winds up at a vegetarian restaurant to eat and while he is there his mind wanders as he starts to think about images of goddesses represented in art. The curved images of the divine feminine merge with images of digestion, thereby turning the digestive cycle into a symbol for the cycle of birth, life, death, and rebirth as embodied in the archetype of the triple goddess.

His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. Beauty: it curves, curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the round hall, naked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don’t care what man looks. All to see. Never speaking, I mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal! Put you in your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods, golden dishes, all ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar, imagine it drinking electricity: gods’ food. Lovely forms of woman sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to feed it like stoking an engine. They have no. Never looked. I’ll look today. Keeper won’t see. Bend down let something fall see if she.

(p. 176)

There are lots of other great sections in this episode, and I personally feel like I could write a whole series of posts on all that is here (occult symbolism, bawdy humor, freemasonry, social mores, prejudice, and so forth). The writing is extremely rich. But alas, I will move on to the next episode, which ends on page 218 with the phrase: “From our bless’d altars.” But I want to end this post with the concluding paragraphs from this episode because they worked so well for me. As Bloom spots Blazes Boylan, he panics and ducks into the National Museum to avoid him. The pace of the language perfectly captures his frenzied feeling, building in intensity as Bloom seeks escape and safety.

I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. Freeman. Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Purse. Potato. Where did I?

Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.

His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah, soap there! Yes. Gate.

Safe!

(p. 183)


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 7

Image Source: Wikipedia

Image Source: Wikipedia

This episode corresponds with Book 10 of Homer’s Odyssey, where Aeolus gives Odysseus a bag of wind to help him sail back to Ithaca. Unfortunately, Odysseus’ men think there is riches in the bag and open it, resulting in them being blown off course. Joyce, therefore, incorporates images and references to wind, breath, and air throughout this episode.

The episode is set in the newsroom where Bloom is pitching an ad that he is trying to sell. The structure of the text in the chapter resembles a newspaper, where each section is preceded by a large-font headline. Early in the episode, Joyce criticizes the newspaper media, asserting that the papers are mainly interested in ads and fluff pieces, which is similar today.

It’s the ads and side features sell a weekly not the stale news in the official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in the year one thousand and.

(p. 118)

As Bloom observes the printing press, he considers the fate of newspapers. Considering Bloom wiped his butt with paper from a publication earlier in the book, I suspect that he also considers this as a use for newspapers, even though he does not overtly state it.

Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the cross he had made, saw the foreman’s sallow face, think he has a touch of jaundice, and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles of it unreeled. What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels: various uses, thousand and one things.

(p. 120)

Joyce uses this episode to poke fun at those people who he sees as full of nothing but hot air. The first are the pseudo-intellectuals who act all inflated but really come off as pompous. At one point, the characters in the newsroom are reading a speech by one of these intellectuals that was published in the paper. As they read it, they cannot help mocking it.

Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on:

Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its way, fanned by the gentlest zephyrs tho’ quarreling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling waters of Neptune’s blue domain, mid mossy banks, played on by the glorious sunlight or ‘neath the shadows cast o’er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of the forest. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of the newspaper. How’s that for high?

—Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said.

Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating:

The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage. O boys! O boys!

(p. 123)

The other group that Joyce mocks is newspaper persons, who are depicted as blown about with no direction, allowing themselves to bend in whatever direction the wind is blowing.

Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same breath. Wouldn’t know which to believe. One story good till you hear the next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over. Hailfellow well me the next moment.

(p. 125)

The one passage that really struck me in this episode, though, has to do with how a small, seemingly insignificant act can have a profound impact on the world. Joyce is essentially evoking the butterfly effect. I had learned about this when I read a book on chaos theory years ago and always assumed this was a relatively new concept, but a quick search online uncovered that the concept was originally formulated in 1890 by Henri Poincaré in what was called sensitive dependence. Anyway, I was somewhat surprised to find this reference in Joyce’s novel.

Pause. J. J. O’Molloy took out his cigarette case.

False lull. Something quite ordinary.

Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.

I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match, that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.

(p. 140)

Overall, I enjoyed this episode. I found it very funny and full of puns and wordplay. Next week I’ll cover Episode 8 which ends on page 183 with the word “Safe!”


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6


 

References:

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/section7.rhtml

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aeolus

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 6

Source: symbolreader.net

Source: symbolreader.net

This episode corresponds to Book XI of Homer’s Odyssey, where Odysseus travels to the underworld of Hades and speaks with the dead. If you are unfamiliar with Odysseus’ journey to the underworld, I suggest reading “The Secrets of the Odyssey (7): Circe and the Underworld” by Symbol Reader, who is one of my favorite bloggers.

The main theme of this section is death, which makes for some morbid reading at times. The episode begins with Bloom getting into a carriage with Martin Cunningham, Jack Power, and Simon Dedalus (Stephen Dedalus’ father). The carriage is part of the funeral procession for Paddy Dignam who is to be buried. During the ride, there is much discussion and contemplation regarding death.

The carriage ride is symbolic for the journey to the land of the dead, which is represented by the cemetery. At one point in the journey, the carriage passes a waterway, which I assume is the River Liffey. This conjures images of the crossing of the River Styx as one enters the realm of the dead.

Their eyes watched him. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mud-choked bottles, carrion dogs. Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or cycle drawn. Hire some old crock, safety. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady’s. Developing waterways. James M’Cann’s hobby to row me o’er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down, lock by lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his brown strawhat, saluting Paddy Dignam.

(p. 99)

When they reach the cemetery, Bloom observes the coffin being removed from the hearse. He begins to contemplate mortality, the sheer number of people who die every day. He notes that Dignam got there before they did, implying both that the hearse arrived before the carriage and also that Dignam died before him and the others.

Coffin now. Got here before us, dead as he is. Horse looking round at it with his plume skeowways. Dull eye: collar tight on his neck, pressing on a bloodvessel or something. Do they know what they cart out here every day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Then Mount Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour. Too many for the world.

(p. 101)

As the burial proceeds, Bloom’s thoughts turn very morbid as he envisions the rotting and decay of the bodies within the earth, of the rats and maggots eating the rancid flesh of the deceased. The images reminded me of Poe and Baudelaire. I also couldn’t help wondering whether this was symbolic of the general decay of humanity, whether Joyce viewed the world around him as rotting just as the flesh of the dead was rotting beneath the soil.

One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. Pick the bones clean no matter who it was. Ordinary meat for them. A corpse is meat gone bad. Well, and what’s cheese? Corpse of milk. I read in that Voyages of China that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse. Cremation better. Priests dead against it. Devilling for the other firm. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Time of the plague. Quicklime fever pits to eat them. Lethal chamber. Ashes to ashes. Or bury at sea. Where is that Parsee tower of silence? Eaten by birds. Earth, fire, water. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. See your whole life in a flash. But being brought back to life no. Can’t bury in the air however. Out of a flying machine. Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let down. Underground communication. We learned that from them. Wouldn’t be surprised. Regular square feed for them. Flies come before he’s well dead. Got wind of Dignam. They wouldn’t care about the smell of it. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw white turnips.

(p. 114)

Finally, Bloom’s communication with the dead slips into the realm of necrophilia. Although he seems repulsed by these thoughts, you get the sense that there is a morbid fascination with the idea of sex with the dead.

The gates glimmered in front: still open. Back to the world again. Enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time. Last time I was here was Mrs Sinico’s funeral. Poor papa too. The love that kills. And even scraping up the earth at night with a lantern like the case I read of to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running gravesores. Give you the creeps after a bit.

(pp. 114 – 115)

For those who are reading along, I will be looking at Episode 7 next, which concludes on page 150 with the phrase “if the God Almighty’s truth was known.”


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 5

Image source: Wikipedia

Image source: Wikipedia

Episode 5 corresponds with Book 9 in Homer’s Odyssey, which tells of the lotus-eaters. According to Greek mythology, the lotus-eaters “were a race of people living on an island near North Africa (possibly Djerba) dominated by lotus plants. The lotus fruits and flowers were the primary food of the island and were narcotic, causing the people to sleep in peaceful apathy.” (Wikipedia) This episode of Joyce’s novel incorporates imagery of drugs, plants, and placidness.

Early in the episode, Joyce establishes the connection between flowers and drowsiness.

The far east. Lovely spot it must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like that. Those Cinghalese lobbing around in the sun, in dolce far niente. Not doing a hand’s turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of idleness.

(p. 71)

There are a couple interpretations for this passage. On one level, it implies that narcotic flowers, such as the opium poppy, cause persons to lose themselves in a drug-induced daze, essentially losing touch with reality. But I feel that Joyce is also associating sex with drugs, the flower representing a woman’s sexuality. It is easy to lose oneself in the pleasure of sexual ecstasy and to lose interest in the world around.

We discover in this episode that Leopold Bloom is engaged in clandestine correspondence with a woman named Martha and that these letters they are writing are sexual in nature. While Bloom has not consummated any physical intimacy with Martha, it is evident that she wants to take it to the next level. I couldn’t help thinking how if this scene was written today, they would be meeting in a chat room or sending emails to each other. What I found most interesting about this correspondence and what makes it important to this episode is the pen name that Bloom uses: Henry Flowers. There is the association between his real and assumed last names, both of which tie into the theme of the lotus-eaters. There is also a sense that Bloom is using these letters as an escape from reality. What Leopold and Martha share is an illusion, a distraction from what is actually happening.

According to Karl Marx, religion is the opiate of the masses. Joyce draws on this concept by adding a scene in which Bloom enters a church and then considers how some cultures would actually prefer real opium to the numbing religion offered by the church.

Same notice on the door. Sermon by the reverend John Conmee S. J. on saint Peter Claver and the African mission. Save China’s millions. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for them.

(p. 80)

After leaving the church, Bloom stops into a pharmacy. The pharmacy is depicted as an almost alchemical lab, where the chemist produces drugs, lotions, and perfumes all intended to induce a state of drowsiness and forgetfulness.

The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shriveled smell he seems to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher’s stone. The alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character. Living all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. All his alabaster lily-pots. Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid. Smell almost cure you like the dentist’s doorbell. Doctor whack. He ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary and emulsion. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples. Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever of nature.

(p. 84)

The episode ends with Bloom in a bath. He is giving in to the narcotic state, his flaccid penis floating in the water being symbolic of the dull state of all mankind, having lost all virility.

He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower.

(p. 86)

Check back soon for my thoughts on Episode 6, which ends on page 115 with the line “How grand we are this morning.”


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4


 

References:

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/section5.rhtml

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lotus-eaters

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opium_of_the_people

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 4

Ulysses_M

This episode corresponds with Calypso in Homer’s Odyssey. It is also where we first meet Mr. Leopold M. Bloom, the “hero” of Joyce’s novel. For those of you who need a refresher, “Calypso was a nymph in Greek mythology, who lived on the island of Ogygia, where she detained Odysseus for several years.” In this episode, it is Molly Bloom, Leopold’s wife, who symbolizes Calypso.

The episode begins with the giant letter M beginning the phrase “Mr Leopold Bloom.” One must assume that there is some symbolism here. It may be that the M represents that Part II of the book is the main or middle section (note that there are three parts). It may also represent Leopold himself, M being the first, last, and middle letter in his full proper name: Mr. Leopold M. Bloom. If you remember back to the first part, which began with a giant S, the main figure in that part was Stephen Dedalus, whose name also begins and ends with the oversized letter. And yes, there is another very intriguing interpretation for which I will abstain from sharing at this point until after we complete the book, since it ties in with greater themes and the overall structure which is better addressed later on. Anyway, something to keep in the back of your mind as you read the book.

As I mentioned earlier, Molly is the archetype of the nymph. She is depicted as very sensual and it appears that she is involved in a clandestine affair with Blazes Boylan. To add to this imagery of Molly, there is a painting above their bed of the Bath of the Nymphs and Leopold likens Molly to the naked nymphs in the painting.

The Bath of the Nymphs over the bed. Given away with the Easter number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Tea before you put milk in. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three and six I gave for the frame. She said it would look nice over the bed. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the people that lived then.

(p. 65)

Painting by Gérard de Lairesse

Painting by Gérard de Lairesse

There is also some triple goddess symbolism in this episode. The triple goddess symbolizes the three stages of the female life cycle which combined form the Divine Feminine. The three stages are Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Leopold interacts all three aspects of the goddess. He encounters the Maiden at the butcher shop and silently lusts after your youthful beauty.

A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. He stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand. Chapped: washing soda. And a pound and a half of Dennny’s sausages. His eyes rested on her vigorous hips. Woods his name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish. New blood. No followers allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline. She does whack it, by George. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.

(p. 59)

The Mother aspect of the Goddess is obviously Molly. The Crone Leopold encounters after leaving the butcher shop.

No, not like that. A barren land, bare waste. Vulcanic lake, the dead sea: no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the earth. No wind would lift those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Brimstone they called it raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. All dead names. A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Old now. It bore the oldest, the first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s clutching a noggin bottle by the neck. The oldest people. Wandered far away over all the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere. It lay there now. Now it could bear no more. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world.

(p. 61)

On pages 64 and 65, there is discussion regarding metempsychosis, or the transmigration of the soul. Simplified, this is the Greek philosophical version of the concept of reincarnation, where the soul, being divine, continues to exist after physical death and can be reborn in a new physical form. As I read this section, which is too long to include here, I thought about how this ties in with the book. I believe that Joyce is implying that the soul, like an archetype or a trope, is destined to be resurrected as it migrates along the path of human existence. The souls, the symbols, and the stories that originated with Homer continue to be reborn and in Joyce’s case are manifest in his book. If I remember correctly from when I read this book 20 years ago, I think this is a theme that recurs throughout the book.

I want to end this post by saying that I found this episode to be pretty funny. There are lots of sexual puns woven in, which work well with the episode’s theme of the nymph. For example, there is the image of the woman “whacking it” that appears in one of the previous quotes. Another example is when Molly makes a sexual joke about someone’s name.

—Yes. Get another of Paul de Kock’s. Nice name he has.

(p. 64)

For those of you reading along, next week I will cover episode 5, which ends on page 86 in my version with the phrase: “…a languid floating flower.” Read on!!


Previous Posts on Ulysses:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3


References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calypso_%28mythology%29

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/section4.rhtml

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triple_Goddess_%28Neopaganism%29

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 3

Image Source: Wikipedia

Image Source: Wikipedia

This episode is a little more challenging than the first two. Stephen Dedalus is walking along the beach and everything that happens is stream of consciousness thoughts in his mind stirred by recent events and by the things he observes. There is only one single line of spoken dialog which occurs outside Stephen’s mind, and that is when a person on the beach calls to his dog.

This episode corresponds to Proteus in the Homeric epic.

According to Homer (Odyssey iv:412), the sandy island of Pharos situated off the coast of the Nile Delta was the home of Proteus, the oracular Old Man of the Sea and herdsman of the sea-beasts. In the Odyssey, Menelaus relates to Telemachus that he had been becalmed here on his journey home from the Trojan War. He learned from Proteus’ daughter, Eidothea (“the very image of the Goddess”), that if he could capture her father he could force him to reveal which of the gods he had offended, and how he could propitiate them and return home. Proteus emerged from the sea to sleep among his colony of seals, but Menelaus was successful in holding him, though Proteus took the forms of a lion, a serpent, a leopard, a pig, even of water or a tree. Proteus then answered truthfully, further informing Menelaus that his brother Agamemnon had been murdered on his return home, that Ajax the Lesser had been shipwrecked and killed, and that Odysseus was stranded on Calypso’s Isle Ogygia.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Proteus is the perfect symbol for Stephen’s subconscious mind, which is the source of his fluid, streaming thoughts. The unconscious mind, like the sea, is fluid and constantly moving and changing, with thoughts rising, falling, and swirling like waves and ripples upon the surface.

In modern times, the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung defined the mythological figure of Proteus as a personification of the unconscious, who, because of his gift of prophecy and shape-changing, has much in common with the central but elusive figure of alchemy, Mercurius.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Early in the episode, Stephen closes his eyes as he walks along the shoreline. The shore symbolizes the threshold between his waking conscious state represented by the land and the fluid unconscious represented by the sea. Once his eyes are closed, the sounds and rhythms of the sea begin to affect his mind as he starts to shift into a state dominated by his unconscious. Joyce employs onomatopoeia to mimic the crackling sounds which Stephen hears as he slips deeper into his unconscious.

Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush cracking wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o’er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably. I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: nebeneinander. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a’.

Won’t you come to Sandymount,
Madeline the mare?

(p. 37)

At one point deep in Stephen’s reverie, his thoughts drift to the Martello tower and he vows not to sleep there that evening. As this happens, he experiences a moment of connection with his soul. I interpreted this in several ways. First, it is an expression of the conscious mind becoming aware of the unconscious mind, as he teeters on the shore between states of consciousness. Next, it is a reference to the Platonic concept of the form, which is the archetype from which all subsequent incarnations are emanated. It’s worth noting here that on page 38, Joyce incorporates a reference to Adam Kadmon, which in Jewish kabbalistic thought is the form from which man is created. Finally, the mention of Elsinore in this passage implies a connection between Stephen and Hamlet, Hamlet being the literary expression of Stephen’s inner-self. Since the soul is ineffable, it is only through art that one can come close to expressing the hidden part of ourselves, hence the connection to Hamlet.

Turning, he scanned the shore south, his feet sinking again slowly in new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the barbicans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. In the darkness of the dome they wait, their pushedback chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned platters. Who to clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when this night comes. A shut door of a silent tower entombing their blind bodies, the pathersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take all, keep all. My sould walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood.

(p.44)

During his walk on the beach, Stephen encounters the carcass of a dead dog: “A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack” (p. 44). I had to look up bladderwrack and learned it is a type of seaweed that was originally used to make iodine. Anyway, although Joyce makes a connection in the text to “Gautier’s prose,” I personally could not help envisioning Baudelaire’s “A Carcass.” The rotting carcass as a symbol of decay, both physically and spiritually, seems to tie in with Stephen’s current state of mind.

Near the end of the episode, the imagery of water as a symbol for the unconscious becomes prominent. In addition, seaweed is used as a symbol for fragments of thought, which are swirled about in the currents of the subconscious, strands which move about making what seem to be random connections, almost like the synapses from the brain’s neurons.

Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds.

(p. 49)

Next week I’ll cover Episode 4, which ends on page 70 in my book with the phrase “Poor Dignam!” See you then.


 

Previous Posts on Ulysses:


 

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proteus

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/section3.rhtml

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 2

Image Source: www.comicvine.com

Stephen Dedalus — Image Source: http://www.comicvine.com

This is a short episode, but there is a lot going on. For me, this episode sets the groundwork for the saga which will unfold throughout the book. Some of the dominant themes that stood out for me were memory, history, money, anti-Semitism, and misogyny.

Early in the episode, Stephen Dedalus’ mind wanders as he briefly considers memory. There is a sense that Stephen is haunted by memories, most likely the result of his pain over his mother’s death. I suspect that the reason for this is because often the most vivid memories are the sharpest and most painful, those which cut directly into the psyche.

Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and time one livid final flame. What’s left us then?

(p. 24)

As Stephen is discussing Pyrrhus with the class he is teaching, one of the students jokes that Pyrrhus was a pier. Stephen then follows the prompt and explores what is a pier.

—Tell me now, Stephen said, poking the boy’s shoulder with the book, what is a pier.

—A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the waves. A kind of bridge. Kingstown pier, sir.

(p. 24)

The pier then becomes a symbol for memory. It is something solid that juts out into the sea of the subconscious. And despite the continuous crashing of the waves of forgetfulness against the pylons holding up the pier, the pier remains, just as the painful memories persist. It is also worth noting that a pier is a place where ships depart and dock, so the pier also builds the connection to the seafaring Odysseus.

As the class is dismissing, Stephen offers the following riddle to the class:

The cock crew
The sky was blue:
The bells in heaven
Were striking eleven.
Tis time for this poor soul
To go to heaven.

(p. 26)

The students are unable to solve the riddle, so Stephen tells them that the answer is “The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.” (p. 27) This is a totally absurdist answer and has no relevance to the riddle whatsoever. I would go as far as asserting it is a Dadaist answer. I pondered the riddle for a bit and came up with my own answer: Judas Iscariot. There were originally twelve apostles, and one would assume that eleven of them were admitted into heaven, hence the ringing of the eleven bells. Judas was sent to hell, for betraying Christ and for committing suicide. The riddle implies that it is time to forgive Judas for his sins and allow his soul access to heaven. I think Joyce dropped a little hint to the riddle in the text, because on page 29, he mentions the twelve apostles.

The image of the fox reappears, but now it seems to be a symbol for a historian, a sly and intelligent creature who is obsessed with digging up the past, with scraping away the debris of time to uncover the history buried below the surface.

A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.

(p. 28)

The second half of this episode focuses on Stephen’s interactions with Mr. Deasy, the schoolmaster. I personally found Deasy to be a most disdainful character and he could easily be called Mr. Queasy, since he kind of made me feel sick. He is self-righteous, obsessed with money, brazenly anti-Semitic, and misogynistic.

Deasy lectures Stephen on the importance of money, emphasizing that money is power. He then tosses in a quote by Shakespeare to back up his assertion, but Stephen catches the irony of the fact that it was Iago who Deasy quoted, and Iago is not a model character.

—Because you don’t save, Mr Deasy said, pointing his finger. You don’t know what money is. Money is power, when you have lived as long as I have. I know, I know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say? Put but money in thy purse.

—Iago, Stephen murmured.

(p. 30)

Shortly afterward, Deasy launches into an anti-Semitic rant. He employs the same inane arguments that have fueled anti-Jewish sentiment for years: that the Jews control the government, the banks, the press, and so forth. He then accuses the Jews of being the cause of society’s decline.

—Mark my words, Mr Dedalus, he said. England is in the hands of the jews. In all the highest places: her finance, her press. And they are the signs of a nation’s decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. Old England is dying.

(p. 33)

After Stephen attempts to defend the Jews against Deasy’s accusations, he says something that really struck a nerve with me:

—History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

(p. 34)

On one level, this is an expression of the connection between memory and history. Stephen’s past haunts and torments him, and try as he may, he cannot free himself from his personal history. But there is also a larger issue here. Our society is formed based upon human history. Whether we remember the past or forget it collectively, it doesn’t matter all that much. We are still the products of our collective past. If you wanted to apply a Jungian analysis, you could also argue that our collective consciousness is tied to our collective history, and we are bound to it, unable to free ourselves. It’s kind of a dark rabbit hole to start going down, and for one who has always viewed history in a positive light, this casts a shroud over my long-standing views on the value of history and memory.

Next, Deasy launches into his tirade against women. During his rant, he mentions Helen of Troy, which serves to tie the scene in with the Homeric motif.

—I am happier than you are, he said. We have committed many errors and many sins. A woman brought sin into the world. For a woman who was no better than she should be, Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks make war on troy. A faithless wife first brought strangers to our shore here. MacMurrough’s wife and her leman O’Rourke, prince of Breffini. A woman too brought Parnell low. Many errors, many failures but not one sin. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. But I will fight for the right till the end.

(pp. 34 – 35)

As I read this again, I couldn’t help wondering how Stephen felt hearing this, especially with the pain of his mother’s death still fresh. He does not react to it, other than signaling he is ready to leave. I suspect he is hurt and angry, but because he is financially broke and struggling, and needs the work, he is afraid to speak out. I feel for Stephen. He is in a terrible place.

The episode concludes with Deasy making a joke about the Jews.

—I just wanted to say, he said. Ireland, they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know that? No. And do you know why?

He frowned sternly on the bright air.

—Why, sir? Stephen asked, beginning to smile.

—Because she never let them in, Mr Deasy said solemnly.

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his lifted arms waving to the air.

(p. 36)

For me, this is the key setup for what is to come. There is a similarity between the Jews wandering in the desert and Odysseus traveling the seas. Both are wanderers attempting to return home, but can’t. It is also important to note that Leopold Bloom (who correlates to Odysseus and will appear soon in the story) is Jewish.

The next episode concludes the first part of the book. If you are reading along, I expect to have my thoughts on Episode 3 to be up in about a week. Read on!

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Joyce’s “Ulysses” – Episode 1

Ulysses_S

The first three episodes focus on Stephen Dedalus, who is the protagonist in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. This correlates with the first four books of Homer’s Odyssey in which Telemachus is the focus. Stephen is a young, aspiring poet who is in mourning over the death of his mother. He is generally considered to be James Joyce’s alter ego.

The first thing to note about this episode is the giant S at the beginning. As with anything symbolic, there can be any number of interpretations, all of which can be equally valid. For example, it could simply imply that Stephen is the focus of the first episode. Possibly, it is an allusion to alliteration that will appear throughout the text, the ess sound being predominant in the name Ulysses. One could argue that it represents the (s)ymbolism found in (s)tories. I personally have my own theory, but I am not going to share it just yet. I will do so at the end of this blog series, since I feel it is part of one of the larger themes in the book. (Note: This was the topic of my college thesis on Ulysses, which I will try to locate in the attic before we finish the book.)

Early in the episode, Stephen says, “I’m not a hero, however.” (p. 4) I see a double entendre here. On one level, Joyce is making it clear that Stephen is not the hero of the book; hence he is not representative of Odysseus. But I think this is also a reference to Joyce’s then unpublished manuscript of Stephen Hero. This was an early version of a manuscript that would later become Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. As the story goes, it was rejected by the publisher and Joyce ended up throwing into the fire. It was secretly retrieved and published posthumously.

Similarities are established between Stephen and Hamlet. Buck Mulligan accuses Stephen of brooding, in the same way that Claudius chides Hamlet.

—Don’t mope over it all day, he said. I’m inconsequent. Give up the moody brooding.

(p. 9)

Stephen is then described as being haunted by his mother’s ghost, similar to Hamlet being visited by the ghost of his father.

In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its loose graveclothes giving off the odour of wax and rosewood, her breath bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes.

Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On me alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down.

(p. 10)

Earlier in the post, I had mentioned alliteration. This is a literary tool that Joyce uses well and there is a great example in this episode where he uses words beginning with the letter “W” to evoke the sensation of waves and water.

Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast from the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the harpstraings merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide.

(p. 9)

Martello tower, the setting for this episode, figures prominently. It is likened to Elsinore, which supports the connection between Stephen and Hamlet.

—I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. That beetles o’er his base into the sea, isn’t it?

(p. 18)

I also see a couple other connections with the tower image. First, I suspect it is meant to serve as a reference to William Butler Yeats, whose poem “Who Goes With Fergus” is quoted by Mulligan. (p. 9) While Yeats’ “The Tower” wasn’t published until 1928, after Ulysses, Yeats was residing at Thoor Ballylee (the tower that would become the symbol in Yeats’ poem later on) at the time that Joyce was working on his book. Secondly, I see a connection to the Tower card in the tarot deck. The Tower, for those who know tarot, is about the worst card you can get. It foretells a catastrophic, unexpected event. This seems to be in keeping with Odysseus’ ill-fated journey home, where he faces one unexpected disaster and danger after another. The cards are stacked against him, so to speak.

The very end of this episode really solidifies the connection between Joyce’s novel and The Odyssey, while at the same time reinforcing the connection between Stephen and Hamlet. There is imagery of not being able to return home, of being out at sea. Also, there is an emphasis on the archetype of the usurper, which can be interpreted as both Penelope’s suitors and Claudius, who usurped Hamlet’s throne.

The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.

A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal’s, far out on the water, round.

(p. 23)

This is extremely dense text, and I could certainly write much longer, picking apart the minutia. But that’s not my goal. I want to hit on some of the big themes and the symbolism that resonates with me personally. That said, if there is anything you want to add, please post in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Next week I will cover Episode 2 which ends on page 36. The last line of that episode is: “On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins.”

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Dedalus

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Telemachus

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/ulysses/characters.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thoor_Ballylee

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Starting James Joyce’s “Ulysses”

Ulysses

So as I mentioned in a recent post, I am now beginning Ulysses, arguably the greatest modernist novel ever written. I am going to go fairly slow, probably one section/episode every week or every other week. My idea is that if any of you want to read along, you will be able to do so. I will post my thoughts after each section and hopefully generate some discussion via the comments section.

I read Ulysses while in college. I took an upper-level course which was just Ulysses. All we had to do was complete the book and write a couple papers along the way. When I finished, I felt like I had accomplished the literary equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. There were times when I loved it, and times when I felt like tearing out pages and burning them. In the end, though, I’m glad that I persevered.

Alright then. Off we go. For those who are interested, here is a link to the Sparknotes for the text (this will probably be helpful). Next weekend I will be posting on the first episode, which in my copy ends on page 23.

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