Ulysses: A view from the ice cave
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1 - Basta! (Telemachus)
2 - Queasy (Nestor)
3 - Founderin' (Proteus)
4 - No (Calypso)
5 - Roamin' (Lotus-Eaters)
6 - Arrivin' (Hades)
7 - Extra! (Aeolus)
8 - Safe! (Lestrygonians)
9 - Hamlet (Scylla & Charybdis)
10 - The Players (Wandering Rocks)
11 - Emergence (Sirens)
12 - Elijah (Cyclops)
13 - Rosebud (Nausicaa)
14 - Renaissance (Oxen of the Sun)
15 - Via Dolorosa (Circe)
16 - Lee-shore (Eumaeus)
17 - Inventarium vitae (Ithaca)
18 - Yes (Penelope)
Ulysses, a story of love and death and love. Not by reasoning, Bloom understands. And heals. And Molly says, yes.
Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low/ And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go/ Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long/ Still to us at twilight comes love's old song/ Comes love's old sweet song.
The twilight before dawn, Bloomsday plus one.
Absolutely smashing summary !
I'll print it and glue it into my Penguin copy
>20 Macumbeira: Thanks, M.
Much has been made of the ultimate failure to connect between Bloom and Dedalus. I wonder, though, if Bloom still has set Stephen on the right course. I'm thinking of their concurrent catharses in Circe, Bloom picking Stephen up off the ground, being a role model for sobriety, a father figure rather than his father.
Stephen would be rather a third wheel with Leopold and Marion. Marion would certainly have her fantasies dashed when faced with Stephen's unhygienic habits, tête-à-cul.
Bloody marvelous, Wilf!
Did you see that Dedalus? Go play w/your Finnegan all you want! We've got Wilf.
Thanks, really, I abase myself.
One thing that struck me was that, strictly, Leopold was not Jewish and Marion was. But their public persona was just the opposite. Bloom sees no Jews on his travels (as far as I remember) until he visits Nighttown.
The residency history of the Blooms also reveals a bit. Prior to Eccles St., they lived on Raymond Terrace, Ontario Terrace and Lombard St. These are all located in Little Jerusalem, where they may not have felt fully comfortable with the Jewish community. While most upwardly mobile Jews migrated southward from Little Jerusalem, the Blooms moved north to City Center. (Their stay at Holles St. is also outside Little Jerusalem, but I don't know when they lived there, other than before Eccles St.)
Ulysses is a monumental work. Preparation, attitude, and recognizing the possibility of failure are requisite to mounting an attack on this monument. The critical element for me was being able to immerse myself in the work through the audio CD.
Another aid was Joyce's Ulysses for Everyone. This shows you the right attitude, that Ulysses is accessible, is lol funny, should be read aloud, and should be taken away from the stuffed shirts of academic lit crit.
It does have some flaws and at this time I would recommend reading Beowulf on the Beach instead. Not just for Ulysses, but for 49 more of the great books you perhaps were afraid to attempt. For Ulysses, it provides the same attitude shakeup while giving more accurate and meaningful insight than Mood's book. The author suggests reading while sunning on the beach for a more open, less antagonistic mind-set. Perhaps our metaphor was misplaced: instead of conquering mountains we should be conquering margaritas on the beach.
Edited to remove typo
Fully agree that the canon of literature is too funny and interesting to leave it to the academics.
This is the whole point of this Forum I Guess. We read good books and enjoy them
I knew Mount Everest was a bad metaphor! And yet I still went with it - and thus psyched myself out - when I could have been getting sloshed on the freaking beach all along! **hangs head in cringing shame**
comon Freaky it is not that bad. We got a suntan too up there on the mountain. Lost some toes also bythe way
I disagree. Think how long it took Joyce to write the damn thing, the years of effort and labour, the pain, the blood sweat and gin, the failed relationships, the self doubt, and the discipline to keep going.
Don't you think as readers we owe it to the guy to approach his work with some respect and hard slog on our part in return?
Of course, i'm all for getting literature out of the hands of the academics, but that doesn't have to mean we should be lazy readers and take it all lying down. I like the Everest metaphor. I like the challenge of reading great books with love and attention to detail, and the sense of achievement and having my mind stretched when I've finished. Nothing like the view from the top, I say.
I like to sleep on the beach, and swim, and fantasize about stripping all the hotties naked and frolicking with them in the surf....
and fantasize about stripping all the hotties naked and frolicking with them in the surf....
If I were in Taiwan right now you wouldn't have to just be fantasizing.
I haven't read beowulf on the beach but it looks interesting in the same way a comic version of Literary work can be interesting. See what I wrote about Heuet's version of Proust.
But even at the beach ( on the island of Ithaca by the way- hope you are all jeaulous now ) I read with pencil in hand and a dictionary close by : ) . Reading takes place every morning from 5 to 7. There are not too much distractions then.
34> Yet another diversion, this time to Proust. At this rate I'll never get back to Brothers Karamazov! I am especially intrigued by the "episode of the gateau" mentioned in the Wiki article. (Oh, just remembered, we're up for this next year, so on to BK).
I always appreciate the comics. I taught myself to read from a large stack of comic books. More lately, but still in the dim past, Zap! Moby-Dick also appears as a "graphic novel." I'll try to get to that someday too. Perhaps for the reading at Mystic on August 1.
I too have my Moleskine always at hand, my personal analog assistant. But will be supplemented with my new netbook, the size of a trade paperback.
Why Wilf! I am blushing **blush blush**
Is that any proper way to talk to Gramma Naughty?
You deserve a good lickin' for that comment, you do.
Sorry Granny, just think of it as a Serious Hijinks gone bad. (Hmm, puts me in mind of Mr. Jinks, the cat in the Pixie/Dixie cartoons). Hereafter, will respect the confines of the social norm.
ETA spelling correction.
Thanks for the encouragement EF. Sorry to hear about your troubles as fearless leader, on the outside looking in.
Since leaving the ice cave, I have been trying to get back my social chops. Believe me, hearing the thump, thump, thump of bodies falling from the ascent route was extremely enervating. And what do I find on emerging? An elegant salon where a rough staging tent once stood. Culture shock!
So, I mean to restore my deleted comment, as best I can remember, leaving out the personalization: Seek out the clever linguist, your mutual congruence will be deeply rewarded. Originally applied by an unknown (to me) source to the matriculates of Radcliffe College, who needs partook of the Latin and the Greek.
Anytime, Wilf. Please stop editing your funny posts (and assuming identities too, if that was you) while you're at it. Thanks.
A salonist named the Bard sent me this cool link for all your Joyce & Beckett edification.
Recently perused TFC, hosted for a time by EF, and came away amazed. Long-hidden secrets exposed, an alternate universe revealed, personalities nipping into and out of aliases. Nothing is as it seems, but all is made known for one who can follow the clues. A real-life incarnation of Bloom's walk through Little Jewrusalem, especially the bordello phantasmagoria!
It must be hard for someone who summits Mt. LT in such a magnificent fashion to share the limelight with Joyce at the summit of Mt. Ulysses.
You are not Messiahs, you are all very naughty boys & girls!
I finally had the time to trudge there here...I love the summery in the first section, Wilf. Good show!
I'm going down
to San Diego
Tell your girlfriend you'll be working late.
Did I leave my pink pumps at your place? I've looked everywhere and can't find them! I need them for the party tomorrow!
Yeah, the spike portion is stuck in the ceiling, and damn if I cannot get them out.
By the way, Happy Bloomsday, everyone!
Thanks for remembering bard. I'm sure many are not ready to face that day again soon, but I'll be raising a glass of burgundy tonight, along with a gorgonzola pizza at Za!
Thank goodness for Garrison Keillor ;-)
always the best who dissapear first, what you say...
Tom, pass me the bottle.
Let's only think about the good memories Tom.
Let's not get depressed.
Is there something left to drink ?
Here is a nice moment to remember.
OMG OMG everyone!!! Look who I just found! I can't believe it! Is it really her!
51...Wilf, I've just had the opportunity to peruse that gloriously erotic link of yours! Let me just say that I think, IMHO, that that is the very best sampling of conjugal correspondence I've ever read in my life!
You know, if Joyce had written Ulysses more like he wrote to Nora, then I'd say hands-down that Ulysses was the greatest piece of literature ever.
WilfGehlen wrote (a long time ago):
...and should be taken away from the stuffed shirts of academic lit crit.
Please. If it wasn't for us, the shittwits wouldn't even know where to begin with this book. More to the point, Joyce consistently worked with academics. Stuart Gilbert and Jacques Mercanton are two immediate, important, and obvious examples.
It's ImNotDedalus! A blast from the past. Preeminent Joycean scholar.
Hey Ded, there's a person around here, Urania1 who absolutely loves Finnegans Wake.
Please update us on your work with FW if you would Ded.
Great seeing you again!
edited to remove that heinous and unforgivable (what was I thinking?! blasted apostrophe
What on Earth happened to this place, Enrique? A new name, a new look. I fear change!
(I answer no questions until certain apostrophes are removed from certain titles)
Welcome back, Ded, and meet our newest member, Devon, who has reviewed Breathers: A Zombie's Lament.
I won't defend or apologize for past remarks (not remembering them very clearly in any case), but I have seen too many articles of criticism written just for publication. As with MASSOLIT members, they likely don't even believe what they write. With that non-defense, I will continue with a non-apology. There are some exceptional critics I have encountered. I recently reviewed Andrew Barratt's Between Two Worlds: The Master, giving him five stars, and praised another, Richard B. Sewall.
And that was a good review Devon! I just thumbed it up.
Okay, I fixed the apostrophe faux pas.
If memory serves, you were editing, Ded, an edition of FW for a Canadian edition of the book (was it?).
As for The Quest For The Last Page of Ulysses, I have no idea what happened to that group. I just remember seeing an avalanche when I was floundering on that mountain and then all the lights went out.
Gah! Apologies for the delay, Enrique! You asked:
If memory serves, you were editing, Ded, an edition of FW for a Canadian edition of the book (was it?).
No, I was working with Raphael Slepon who runs Fweet (http://fweet.org/) and was in the midst of scanning every page of the corrected 3rd edition of Finnegans Wake as published by Viking in order to correct the many errors that appear in the online edition of the book as supplied by Trent University (http://www.trentu.ca/faculty/jjoyce/). However, a love interest and the start of the fall semester cut my efforts short. I'll return to it soon enough, though.
Hope you're well!
Okay. Okay. So I have had this Joycean beeworm buzzwriting in the back of my head for forever now, trying to remember this one word in this one scene; I THINK it's Leopold Bloom talking, and I THINK he's addressing Molly, and I THINK it's early on, and I THINK he's saying something like "You know better than to interrupt me when I'm . . . (something)", and I THINK the meaning I took from the word he used was something in between "rambling" and "dithering" and "singing my heart out", but I can't remember and I'd really like to because it was a lovely lovely usage. That I do recall. Online concordances and the like have been no help. Salon to the rescue?
It's the birthday of James Joyce (Feb. 2nd), born in Dublin (1882), who said, "The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works." Joyce wrote Ulysses (1922) and Finnegans Wake (1939);an autobiographical novel, Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man (1916); and a short-story collection, Dubliners (1914), among other works.
He was educated by Jesuits, first visited a prostitute at the age of 14, dropped out of medical school and aspired to be an opera star. He met and fell in love with a Galway hotel maid named Nora Barnacle when he was 22 years old, and he set the action of Ulysses on the day he had his first date with Nora, June 16, 1904. It's now commemorated all over the world each year as Bloomsday, after the novel's protagonist, Leopold Bloom.
Shortly after meeting Nora, he convinced her to leave Ireland with him and elope to continental Europe. He thought he'd lined up a teaching job as a language instructor, but that fell through, and he ended up working at a bank in Rome for a while. They were forever impoverished and constantly relying on Joyce's brother Stanislaus for money.
They had a son, Giorgio, and after that James and Nora slept head to foot, an attempt at birth control. It didn't seem to be an effective form, though, and Nora became pregnant with Lucia about a year after giving birth to Giorgio. Joyce was a doting father, liked to spoil his kids, never punished either one and once told an interviewer, "Children must be educated by love, not punishment."
Nora was famously apathetic toward her husband's writing. Joyce worked at night and laughed so loudly at his own words that Nora would get up and tell him to stop writing and stop laughing so that she could get a bit of sleep. Shortly after Ulysses (Joyce pronounced it "Oolissays")was published, she remarked to a fan of his: "I've always told him he should give up writing and take up singing." Ulysses took seven years of unbroken labor, which translated into 20,000 hours of work.
Joyce was afraid of thunder and lightning — during electrical storms, he would hide under bedcovers — and he was also afraid of dogs, and walked around town with rocks in his pockets in case he encountered any roaming mutts. He didn't care for the arts other than music and literature, and he especially had no patience for art like painting. Over his desk he kept a photograph of a statue of Penelope (from Greek mythology, the wife of Odysseus/Ulysses) and a photograph of a man from Trieste, whom Joyce wouldn't name but said was the model for Leopold Bloom. On his desk he had a tiny bronze statue of a woman lying back in a chair with a cat draped over her shoulders. All of his friends told him it was ugly, but he kept it on his desk anyway. One of his Parisian friends remarked, "He had not taste, only genius."
Joyce liked to drink and he liked to dance; his daughter-in-law said that "liquor went to his feet, not head. "Joyce usually sat with his legs crossed with the toe of one crossed again under the calf of the other. He was kind and generous to strangers, and he was known to invite waiters to join him at his table for food and drink. Sylvia Beach, proprietor of Shakespeare and Co., said that Joyce "treated people invariably as his equals, whether they were writers, children, waiters, princesses, or charladies. What anybody had to say interested him; he told me that he had never met a bore. ... If he arrived in a taxi, he wouldn't get out until the driver had finished what he was saying. Joyce himself fascinated everybody; no one could resist his charm."
James Joyce said, "The artist, like the God of the Creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails."
Thank you bardsfingertips for the delightful summary of Joyce's life.
I loved the details about his family life.
Well, sorry to come up short, but I have read 3/4 of his oeuvre and that is where it is going to end. Life is too short to read FW.
Life is too short for Finnigans Wake.
Funny thing is, even though I stole this from The Writer's Almanac, I had to correct the spelling on FW.
If life's too short for FW, what does that mean for those of us who've read it!?
Whew, I was worried, as I've read it 1.75 times (the first time, I lost the book while moving from OH to TX, so I started it over).
I THINK he's saying something like "You know better than to interrupt me when I'm . . . (something)"
Hmm, all that comes immediately to mind is a passage from Sirens, where Bloom thinks: "It certainly is. Few lines will do. My present. All that Italian florid music is. Who is this wrote? Know the name you know better. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. It's so characteristic" (11.13570-1).
This doesn't exactly jive with what you were fishing for, however. I'll have to dig deeper.
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