Shut Your Eyes and See

Post Nine

This, one of the book’s very famous quotes, appears in that atrociously tricky part of Proteus as Stephen, sense testing, walks along the beach at Sandymount Strand, crunching shells as he goes. His eyes shut, he listens as he crunches and crunches to hear. He wonders; does the world disappear when he cannot see it and will it again exist when he opens his eyes? It will; but this is not as silly as it sounds for can an object exist without a subject to perceive it? Stephen is exploring whether our sensory equipment is to be trusted for when we get down to brass tacks, our senses are our only link to a world beyond our skin (even possibly under our skin). 

This part of the book is replete with symbolism as we skirt philosophy, art and natural sciences but I am more interested here in the conduit of the visible or more to the point lack of it, for both Bloom and Stephen will contemplate blindness as they go through the day. As well as Stephen on his beach walk, Bloom will help a blind chap across the road who will then feature in the Sirens episode and no doubt in Circe; which is a safe bet as everyone appears in Circe. The Homeric blinding of Polyphemus plays out in the Cyclops episode with Bloom politically jousting and let’s say defeating the myopic nationalist in Barney Kiernan’s pub. In Lestrygonians after seeing the blind chap on his way Bloom tries to imagine life through the eyes of the blind. For example he feels his stomach and wonders in what colour the blind visualise flesh which is an interesting example and one wonders if it was prompted by the horribly racist Eugene Stratton poster advert that Bloom notices on the way to Glasnevin cemetery. 

I like how Bloom in a very practical way considers the same concepts Stephen grappled with in Proteus in his impossibly obscure style. 

So what do we read into our blind character? Is he Homer’s Tiresias there to predict Bloom’s future? Before we get excited for clues beyond 17th June, Tiresias’ predictions concerned events within our story not after. Essentially, that if Odysseus harms the sun god’s cattle, things will go very bad back home in Ithaca. Well its hardly Bloom’s fault that there’s a foot and mouth* cattle blight but certainly for him, thing’s aren’t great at home. Does our blind friend predict this? Even if he did, it was hardly news as Bloom knew it via the morning post but the tap tap tapping of his white stick in Sirens is in a kind of counterpoint to Boylan’s ‘jingly jaunty got the horny’ cab ride to Molly’s house and his cock carracarracarra cock knocking on the door once he arrived. 

But why? In a book where everything is volitional and a portal of discovery, why the blind character?  

Did we need him simply to facilitate Bloom’s translation of the ineluctable modality of the visible as suggested above? That feels underwhelming. The blind stripling links in Sirens to Robert Emmet, the whereabouts of whose mortal remains are something of a mystery, as we learn in Hades. So maybe the point of the Blind Stripling shall also remain mysterious and is a matter for the professors. Here’s to the many and full explanations that no doubt exist in whatever passes for reality out there. In here, it’s pretty much the blind leading the blind.

For more idle Ulysses thoughts: www.russellraphael.com

*Apparently Stateside, they say hoof and mouth. Either way, the cows don’t like it.

© RUSSELL RAPHAEL 2021-2023

Bloom’s Bum Steer to the Nolan

Post Eight

An amusing part of the book takes place in Lestrygonians where Bloom is sat in Davy Byrne’s ‘moral’ pub eating his cheese and mustard sandwich and where his glass of burgundy will provide some respite for his troubled mind. With wine kindling some fire in his veins he recalls the day some sixteen years earlier on which he proposed to and first made love with Molly on Howth Head. Molly as those with even cursory knowledge of the book will know, shall recall the same incident some hours later.

But two flies stuck in drying paint makes him ponder how far he has fallen from that romantic high and in less romantic and quite depressed mindset, Bloom considers the pointlessness of not just humanity but of all essence, even the solar system. All just digestion machines consuming, multiplying, defecating dying and re-kindling to start all over again. He wonders: are the gods any different? The food of the gods he has read is Ambrosia. Do they defecate? Bloom is a logical man and from his discourse on religion and the afterlife we do not expect he believes in Greek gods, unlike Odysseus his former self. But in his depressed state he is reaching blindly for some hope. That somewhere, somehow there is a higher purpose and we are not all just food processors en-route to being another processor’s food.

So he thinks, he’ll check the statues of Juno and Athena at the National Library to see if they have anuses. He’s got to go there anyway. It’s all a bit farfetched and just Bloom on an idle frolic but this is not just some joke about Greek god’s bums; Joyce has him frolicking for a very serious purpose.

Mesial groove is the phrase Mulligan, the medical student, uses in the next episode when he reports seeing Bloom sniffing around the backsides of the statues, staring at their mesial groove. This is a dental term meaning the indented line running through the middle of a tooth and we can imagine what he means in the context of buttocks. Its all very smutty and amusing. All a bit Frankie Howerd and ooh er Mrs. but the serious business is this; as Stephen will waiver between various choices, between Scylla and Charybdis, Bloom is his guide to the middle way. Philosophy students may note the guiding hand of Giordano Bruno of Nola and the coinciding of polar extremes. Bloom is Stephen’s medium to the medium.

So, not just a joke about bums.

For more idle thoughts: www.russellraphael.com

© RUSSELL RAPHAEL 2021-2023

You Say Tomatoes, She say Met Him Pike Hoses

Post Two

Joyce in a letter to Harriet Shaw-Weaver revealed a certain scepticism for books with ‘goahead plot’. He felt it dispensable. Drama he said elsewhere, was for the journalists. So with Ulysses, ignoring phantasmagorical earthquakes, flying chariots and whatnot, not a great deal happens. Such plot as exists is largely driven by Bloom’s suspicion/expectation that Molly will be unfaithful to him that afternoon. But why does he think this?

The main clue is the letter from the would-be lover impresario Blazes Boylan, that arrives in that morning’s post. This is no great mystery, for in Calypso Molly tells Bloom that the letter is from Boylan and that he’s informing her firstly of the programme for next week’s tour of Ulster and secondly that he’ll be dropping in at 4pm that afternoon to discuss it further. We will know many episodes later that he signs off with the business-like ‘Yours ever, Hugh Boylan’ but otherwise, we do not know what else the letter says.

Bloom’s background information, for example the walk along the river Tolka and him observing Molly and Boylan’s secret hand signals (or so Bloom suspects), will seep through in subsequent episodes and he may well be suspicious of Boylan’s true agenda. This is compounded by him seeing Molly hide the letter under her pillow for more private reading. So it may not be entirely business-like.

But there is something else, something more subtle and if not quite a smoking gun then enough to challenge common claims that we must await episode 18 to discover what goes on with Molly and Boylan.

Calypso contains the very famous metempsychosis conversation with Molly asking Bloom what the word means. He explains it’s a Greek derived word meaning reincarnation, the transmigration of souls which is of course one of the book’s essential themes. She then retorts with ‘met him pike hoses’. This isn’t quoted in Calypso but we find out in Lestrygonians that that is what she said in the course of conversation either then or at least before Bloom leaves for Westland Row at about 9.30 a.m. Bloom later thinks of Molly’s endearing habit whereby she corrupts words into others more familiar to her. So metempsychosis which she doesn’t understand converts to met him pike hoses which to her at any rate, means something.

So what does it mean and what does it reveal?

Molly is pretty straightforward. That is established at the very start. So why not give Met Him its ordinary meaning. That she has met or will be meeting someone. And as the word ‘metempsychosis’ featured in the smutty book she was reading, we might give ‘met him’ rather smutty overtones. Pike, we shall return to; let us think about Hoses. Having just read Proteus we might be prepped for words having more than one meaning, that the meaning of words might reincarnate within other words. So hose suggests trousers as well as something long phallic and wriggly. Pike also is a phallic shaped slippery wriggly fish or otherwise something phallic, rigid and hard; either way, it’s lurking inside his trousers.

What with the smut of Paul de Kock’s novel as well as Boylan’s letter, it seems Molly has sex on her mind and it spills out in this corruption of ‘metempsychosis’. No wonder Bloom is concerned!

There is also something else, something psychologically subtle but Joyce is fond of subtleties. Is Molly trying to bare her soul to Bloom? To tell him without telling him? Just as Bloom leaves unlocked the drawer containing Martha Clifford’s letters? We know by episode 18 Penelope, that Molly is determined to be brazen about her infidelity as much to save the marriage as hurt Bloom and I wonder if this is a foreshadowing of that.

Just a thought.

Fore more idle thoughts: www.russellraphael.com

© RUSSELL RAPHAEL 2021-2023