Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Odysseus returns to Ithaca alone and in disguise. Athena has informed him that his home is overrun with suitors, so he is taking a considerable risk in returning alone. After disguising Odysseus as an old man, Athena advises him to visit his faithful swineherd Eumaeus. Odysseus stays with the swineherd until Telemachus arrives in search of news about his mother. Odysseus tests Telemachus; after confirming his son’s loyalty he reveals himself and father and son are reunited.

This is the first of the final three episodes that comprise Part Three of Ulysses, sometimes called the “Nostos” or the Return Home. The style of the episode is languid and loose, as one might expect at 1 a.m, especially given the night that Stephen Dedalus and Mr. Bloom have had.

I won’t go into as much detail about the “events” of this episode because the language is fairly easy to read. It gets a bit tiresome with its endless parenthetical phrases and layers of cliche, but on the surface it’s apparent what is going on.

After dusting Stephen off and unsuccessfully trying to hail a cab, Bloom leads Stephen to a nearby “cabman’s shelter,” a small coffee shop catering to the city’s night owls. The episode is crowded with people of uncertain or confused or disguised identities. Stephen is stopped by “Lord” John Corley, an acquaintance down on his luck who begs Stephen for help. Corley is of course not a lord, but the narrator relates his dubious but distinguished genealogy as a way of explaining his name.

Stephen and Bloom pass a group of Italians chatting around an ice cream cart, and Bloom remarks on the beauty of the language. Stephen informs him that the men are merely haggling over money. “Sounds are impostures,” Stephen says. "Like names. Cicero. Podmore. Napoleon..."

The proprietor of the cabman’s shelter is reputedly a man called Fitzharris, better known as Skin-the-Goat, one of the “Invincibles” responsible for the Phoenix Park murders. (But is he really?) Within the shelter, Bloom tries to get Stephen to drink some coffee and eat a bun after Stephen tells him he has not eaten since the day before yesterday. (Stephen has apparently forgotten that he ate breakfast at the Tower. There are many small mistakes of fact in this episode, attributable perhaps to exhaustion.)

A sailor named D. B. Murphy, who has arrived on the Rosevean (seen by Stephen in the first episode of the book) is in the shelter telling tall tales of his travels. Murphy asks Stephen if he knows Simon Dedalus. Stephen says, “I’ve heard of him.” Murphy tells the crowd about Simon Dedalus’s expert sharp shooting with Hengler’s Royal Circus in Stockholm. “Curious coincidence,” Bloom remarks to Stephen. A case of mistaken identity.

To bolster his story of “maneating Peruvians” Murphy provides a picture postcard of Bolivian Indians. Bloom notices that the postcard is addressed to someone named A. Boudin, not Murphy. Bloom then asks Murphy if he has ever seen the Rock of Gibraltar, Murphy evades the question and Bloom’s suspicion that Murphy is an imposter is confirmed. To see any of the places that Murphy claims he has visited, he must have passed through the strait of Gibraltar.

Bloom’s paternal instincts are on display here as he tries to get Stephen to eat, but he is also thinking of the young man's future. When Skin-the-Goat begins to argue with Murphy about the role of the Irish in the British Empire, the ever circumspect Bloom voices his own idealistic opinion to Stephen:

I want to see everyone…all creeds and classes pro rata having a comfortable tidysized income… Where you can live well, the sense is, if you work.

… [Stephen] looked up and saw the eyes that said or didn’t say the words the voice he heard said – if you work. Count me out, he managed to remark, meaning to work.

Bloom doesn’t quite understand Stephen’s position of defiance, but he assures him that intellectual work counts, and from this point on Bloom considers various options for Stephen’s future as an artist.

The topic of conversation turns to Parnell, who some think is still alive and well, perhaps in South Africa fighting with the Boers. His coffin might be filled with stones. The discussion revolves around the scandal caused by Parnell’s relationship with a married woman, Kitty O’Shea, whom he eventually married. The circumstances surrounding the Parnell scandal are described in terms that might also apply to Bloom's marriage: “… the simple fact of the case was it was simply a case of the husband not being up to the scratch with nothing in common between them beyond the name and then a real man arriving on the scene…”

Finally, Bloom encourages Stephen to come home with him, despite the fact that he remembers how angry Molly was when he once brought home a lame dog. But there are no viable alternatives. As they pass down the street they chat about music. Stephen sings a few phrases, and Bloom thinks that Stephen could be the next great tenor, with the right grooming.

Questions: Who is the narrator? It seems much of the time that the narrator is speaking from Bloom’s point of view, but not entirely, or not always. Imposture is such a theme in this episode that it might be worth questioning the narrator's motives.

Bloom takes on a fatherly role as he escorts the drunk and defenseless Stephen to safety. He takes care of him, and we can't doubt that Bloom has Stephen's best interests at heart. But could he also have other motives? As Bloom plans Stephen's future in his imagination, is there anything in it for him as well?

Patrice wrote: "Wasn't Ulysses written in Italy? I think it's interesting how he inserts a bit of Italian as background.

I'm not finished with this chapter but what strikes me so far is that Bloom and SD, though..."

Part of it was written in Trieste, and Joyce was fluent in Italian. His children were given Italian names, Giorgio and Lucia, and Italian was the language spoken in the Joyce home.

The narrator is certainly a contrast after scouring the depths of Bloom's soul in Circe. I got impression that it tied in with the theme of uncertainty/falseness. As I type this, it occurs to me that perhaps the narrative voice/tone is meant to suggest that Bloom is (consciously or unconsciously) hiding away again all of the nasty stuff that surfaced in Circe. Perhaps rather than using all of that stuff as motivation, he's just starting to bury it again - better to daydream about Stephen becoming a great tenor than to work through his problems...

Lots of cliches--the way we keep social exchange civil! "Boom" is back to defending the underdog and believing the best of everyone. Seems to have no recollection of the evenings' events.

I ran across a passing reference to the idea that Stephen is the creator of the narrative. A writer writing about an aspiring writer. Any hints anywhere that might give credence to this idea?

Also wondering if there is any point at which Joyce's characters recognize that they are enacting a myth. Thought I might have missed it.

Susan wrote: "I ran across a passing reference to the idea that Stephen is the creator of the narrative. A writer writing about an aspiring writer. Any hints anywhere that might give credence to this idea?"

I don't see any hints, and I find the idea somewhat shocking, actually. The writing in this episode is awful! Joyce is doing this intentionally, but I'd hate to think that Stephen was behind it all the same. Just judging by the way Stephen speaks I don't think his writing would sound anything like this.

But it will sound like this should Stephen decide to follow Joyce's example!

Are you referring to the autobiographical element Susan? Or as some critic wrote, Joyce's 'presence' in Stephen and Bloom.

PS: Actually, he wrote about Joyce's presence in the book as the link between Stephen and Bloom. I did like that.

Thomas wrote: "The writing in this episode is awful! Joyce is doing this intentionally"

With the previous episodes playing with various styles - the play, the newspaper headlines, the English language through the ages - I kept wondering what this episode was trying to imitate. I would be reading along quite well, understanding what was happening, and then somehow find myself in the middle of some long paragraph and sentence and not remember who was speaking or about what. Then I would backtrack to the beginning of the paragraph. Very frustrating! And still sometimes I couldn't figure out who the "he" would be in reference to.

Loved "L. Boom" and how Bloom didn't mind at all the newspaper misspelling his name, and also how he got a kick out of seeing "McCoy" (sp? I don't have my book in front of me) in print when in fact McCoy didn't attend the funeral. Like he got one over on "The Man" for putting his name down in the guest book. lol.

Patrice wrote: "Ulysses is everywhere. A good friend of mine died this week. His obituary read "Paul....75, died on March 7...""

I love all your Ulysses sightings, Patrice!

Wendel wrote: "But it will sound like this should Stephen decide to follow Joyce's example!"

Very true. But then he would also sound like the other narrators, which would make up for it.

In that case Stephen would be the father of Bloom, just as Bloom is acting in the place of Stephens's father (Simon, practically a ghost to Stephen) while thinking of the ghost of his own son, Rudy. And then we're only a couple steps away from Stephen's Hamlet theory.

Thinking along these lines, it occurs to me now why Bloom's father, Lipoti Virag, appears in the Circe episode as the Egyptian god Thoth, the scribe of the gods. He is described as "basilicogrammate," wearing a brown mackintosh under which he holds a roll of parchment. Two quills project over his ears. Joyce is often said to be the man in the brown mackintosh, and as the author he is also the father of Bloom. Lipoti Virag is Joyce.

How about that?

Correction: Lipoti Virag is actually Bloom's grandfather, not his father. Now I have to re-write my entire dissertation...

Patrice wrote: "I'm thinking that taking SD home with him makes Bloom feel safer. He's afraid to go home. Maybe it's not really "home" to him anymore. So having a buffer, makes it easier. I imagine it would be..."

Bloom is fine with Molly as the day begins, so I wonder... Is Bloom avoiding Molly, or is he avoiding Boylan? If Bloom is Odysseus, how does he "slay" the suitor?

Boylan. He's been ducking and diving around the whole day. He doesn't want any positive confirmation or to be placed in an unpleasant situation. Bloom is not a 'man of action', there won't be any odysseys like slaying of the suitors here!

Wendel wrote: "Are you referring to the autobiographical element Susan? Or as some critic wrote, Joyce's 'presence' in Stephen and Blo..."

Margaret McBride seems to be the proponent of the idea that "this aspiring writer (Stephen) has created the figure of Bloom and deliberately cast the latter's purely fictive story into the form of an eternally looping, modern odyssey....Stephen as the "Author" and Molly and Bloom as subordinate..."

The identity of the narrator has been raised among us. Just wondered if naming Stephen "Author" would provide a credible answer. I've missed any cues, but ....

Thomas wrote: "Wendel wrote: "But it will sound like this should Stephen decide to follow Joyce's example!"

Very true. But then he would also sound like the other narrators, which would make up for it.

In that..."

Why does it get more complicated instead of clearer?? Joyce has escaped the labyrinth while we're stuck in it!

Susan wrote: "Wendel wrote: "Are you referring to the autobiographical element Susan? Or as some critic wrote, Joyce's 'presence' in Stephen and Blo..."

Margaret McBride seems to be the proponent of the idea th..."

There is an autobiographical aspect to this, as Wendel suggested. One of Joyce's models for Bloom was a man named Alfred Hunter, who rescued the young Joyce from a situation similar to what is described in Circe. One night in 1904 Joyce was drunk and involved in some sort of fracas after approaching a young lady he presumed was unaccompanied. She was not, and her companion beat Joyce up a bit. Hunter rescued Joyce and took him home until he was sober enough to navigate on his own. Hunter supposedly had an unfaithful wife, was rumored to be Jewish (though he had converted), and was an amateur or would-be inventor.

Some of this is speculation on the part of Joyce's biographers, but if true it makes it easier to see how Stephen (as the young Joyce) could be seen as the "author" of Ulysses, and thereby the author of himself. As Stephen says, "Paternity is a legal fiction." Or maybe just fiction!

There is a point in Aeolus when Stephen is urged to write the next great novel, so there is that too. But I'm not sure that we'd want to get too literal with the idea that Stephen is the author of Ulysses, or that Stephen is meant to be a young Joyce. Certainly there are biographic parallels, but as we were discussing in the Nausicaa thread, Joyce tends see things like this more as a point of departure than a hard rule.

Random phrases I liked:

...and stowed the weapon in question away as before in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.

Faultfinding being a proverbially bad hat, Mr Bloom thought well to stir, or try to, the clotted sugar from the bottom...

...taking stock of the individual in front of him and Sherlockholmesing him up...

Silence with a yawn or two accompanied this thrilling announcement.

Does anyone know what these phrases mean?

...both of them being e. d. ed, particularly Stephen... (first page of the episode)

...and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage. (~19 pages in)

Linda wrote: "Does anyone know what these phrases mean?

...both of them being e. d. ed, particularly Stephen... (first page of the episode)

...and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage. (~1..."

"e.d. ed" means dead tired, exhausted. And nosepaint refers to the red nose of an alcoholic.

Kyle wrote: "There is a point in Aeolus when Stephen is urged to write the next great novel, so there is that too. But I'm not sure that we'd want to get too literal with the idea that Stephen is the author of..."

One of the beauties of Ulysses is that it spawns conjectures like this, and surely Joyce intended readers to play around with ideas like this. But at the same time he makes it impossible to be dogmatic about it. There is a hole in the bottom of every bucket.

Thomas wrote: "One of the beauties of Ulysses is that it spawns conjectures like this, and surely Joyce intended readers to play around with ideas like this. But at the same time he makes it impossible to be dogmatic about it. There is a hole in the bottom of every bucket.."

Well said.

Thomas wrote: ""e.d. ed" means dead tired, exhausted. And nosepaint refers to the red nose of an alcoholic."

Thanks Thomas!

Linda wrote: "Does anyone know what these phrases mean?

...both of them being e. d. ed, particularly Stephen... (first page of the episode)..."

Echoes of u. p. up!

Susan wrote: "Echoes of u. p. up!"

Yes! I thought the same thing when I came across it.

Linda wrote: "With the previous episodes playing with various styles - the play, the newspaper headlines, the English language through the ages - I kept wondering what this episode was trying to imitate. "

I'm still reading this chapter, but from the start it looked to me like a parody of the overly-florid Victorian style of the late 19th century. Dickens comes to mind, but he mostly did it well, and Joyce wants us to see how dreadful it can be. I want to take my pen out and bracket off entire useless phrases in almost every sentence. You can almost see Hemingway in the wings, waiting for his chance to upend this style with his clean, spare prose.

Susan wrote: "Lots of cliches--the way we keep social exchange civil! "Boom" is back to defending the underdog and believing the best of everyone. Seems to have no recollection of the evenings' events."

I'm kind of operating under the assumption that most of the evening's events didn't actually happen, except in Bloom's mind, conscious or subconscious.

Patrice wrote: "I find Bloom's interest in developing SD's talent disturbing. Exploitive. And out of character. If he's so good at developing talent why doesn't he manage Molly? Is he fantasizing about playing Boylan's role with SD? "

Is it out of character? Bloom is a visionary who can't manage to get anything done. He has a "Pisgah sight of Palestine," to steal Stephen's phrase. He's a great one for a plan, but he can never quite realize it.

Interesting episode.

I felt something shift at the moment when Stephen asked why people put chairs up at night and Bloom answered that it made sweeping easier in the morning. It really felt like the kind of question a young boy (~5 years old?), not a grown man, would ask his father. And then they headed out the door into a new day together.

Also, where did Stephen get the money to give his acquaintance who needed a place to stay? I thought he had given his money to Bloom.

Thomas wrote: "Wendel wrote: "But it will sound like this ..." Very true. But ..."

Nice, -:). And the child is the father of the man.

Patrice wrote @31: "... Boylan is no longer a suitor but a usurper ..."

I don't know. If Bloom sees that his obsession is not real, than Boylan is not that important anymore. Anyway, "Blazes" is a ridiculous figure, Molly's nymph.

Patrice wrote @36: "But what bothered me most and what seemed most out of character was befriending SD and then scheming about how to make money off of him...."

But that is precisely what a good impresario or business manager should do, isn't it?

Kathy wrote: " it looked to me like a parody of the overly-florid Victorian style of the late 19th century. Dickens comes to mind, but he mostly did it well, and Joyce wants us to see how dreadful it can be. I want to take my pen out and bracket off entire useless phrases in almost every sentence. You can almost see Hemingway in the wings, waiting for his chance to upend this style with his clean, spare prose."

OK, I can see that now. Usually I can handle the long sentences and paragraphs and love reading Victorian novels, but for some reason in this episode I was getting lost.

I haven't read Hemingway, but I like your "waiting in the wings" imagery. I was thankful to get back to these short bits that I could understand easier.

Patrice wrote: "There is no escaping Ulysses! I turned on the TV and there was Anthony Bourdain in Dublin."

You are the group's Master Ulysses-Spotter, Patrice! :)

Patrice wrote: "You mean you don't see Ulysses everywhere? lol"

Um...no. :) But I haven't invested as much time analyzing and trying to figure out Ulysses as some other readers in the group, so it's not on my mind as much. I think that's why. I just don't have enough time to spend on this one book right now. I know people keep recommending to listen to Ulysses too, which I would love to do. At the moment I'm just trying to keep up with the reading and discussions and get a general feel for what's happening in the story.

But I've thoroughly enjoyed all of your Ulysses sightings. :)

Linda wrote: "Patrice wrote: "You mean you don't see Ulysses everywhere? lol"

Um...no. :) But I haven't invested as much time analyzing and trying to figure out Ulysses as some other readers in the group, s..."

Me either :-);, I've read it 3 times and listened to it about twice though and I'm reading it for a fourth time off and on. But I've read about 20 other books as I've been going through it so I'm not as laser focused as Patrice! You're doing a great job Patrice, your comments make for very interesting reading.

Patrice wrote: "You mean you don't see Ulysses everywhere? lol"

Oh oh!! I thought of you on my way home from work tonight. Of course I think of Ulysses every day because I live just a few houses down the street from an old bar called Ulysses! So as I'm sitting there at the intersection I always glance over at it and wonder if it was named for the book or what. It's been there since I can remember riding in the car on to way to visit my grandma back in the 1970s and it still looks exactly the same today as it did back then, so it's always been a staple landmark for me. It's only been recently that I've thought "oh yeah, it's named Ulysses!".

So there you go, Patrice. My sighting for the day. :)

Patrice wrote: "ROFL! Keep up the good work! BTW, are you sure it's a "bar" and not a "pub"?"

Thanks! lol.

Oh wait, what's the difference? A pub also sells food, right? If that's the case, it's a pub. And they have excellent pizza. :)

There was some discussion earlier about religion as it relates to this novel (so hopefully this is not redundant) but I note there is a part in this chapter wherein Bloom mentions that it is a "horse of quite another color to say you believe in the existence of a supernatural God." Stephen then expostulates that God "has been proved conclusively by several of the best known passages in Holy Write, apart from circumstantial evidence". ...but Stephen had refused to pray for his dying mother per her wish yet he appears to believe in God. So it is that it is formulaic/ organized religion that Stephen has issues with rather than the belief in God? In the beginning Stephen proclaimed he was slave to both the Imperial British state and the Italian "crazy queen" (Holy Roman Catholic and apostolic church). I understand Stephen has at some point renounced the church (per "Portrait of an Artist"). But here he defends God..so apparently it is distinction between organized (specifically Catholic) religion and God. I would presume Joyce agrees with Bloom (no belief in God nor religion)? Sorry..guess I am thinking/figuring this out aloud here ..and likely this is already understood ! ha! But seems if he does believe in God (as it is proven in his eyes)
…why not pray over his mother..a tortured relationship with the concept perhaps?

Patrice wrote: "Anyone know what L.S.D. stands for? In my youth it was a drug. In Chicago it's Lake Shore Drive. What the heck is it in Ulysses?"

I initially thought of the drug too. But I think it's supposed to stand for currency - pounds, shillings, and pence.

http://dictionary.reference.com/brows....

Patrice wrote: "I'm not sure I can express this well but it just dawned on me that the constant shift in writing style has an affect. I can never forget that someone wrote this."

I get what you're saying perfectly, Patrice. I think it makes sense too. I just started reading the next episode and I found myself thinking, "ok, what does Joyce think he's doing with his writing now?". I wasn't thinking of what was actually happening in the story immediately, but instead trying to figure out the style of writing.

I've been reading the Kindle version for the past couple of chapters. I kept seeing numbers in the middle of the text. 1140, 1150, can't remember exactly. Are they artifacts of the Kindle transcribers, or do they appear in other editions? And if so, what is the explanation, except possibly to make this chapter even more clunky to read? I felt like I was trying to climb a very steep, rocky mountain path while blindfolded. In flip flops.

Bloom's solicitous care of Stephen makes me wonder. Frankly, Stephen is an unpleasant companion, yet Bloom tends to him so gently. And he keeps referring to Stephen's mother. Is his kindness simply because the mother's beastly dead or did Bloom know her pretty well? Sorry if it was already discussed - if so I already forgot. I think Thomas alluded to something about it in the synopsis.

He also mentions several times that he knows Stephens father and seems distressed at what his father would think and that he isn't living at home. Bloom several times references his fathers singing; I think Bloom is impressed greatly with the arts - his admiration for his 'diva' wife is another case in point.

Zippy wrote: "I've been reading the Kindle version for the past couple of chapters. I kept seeing numbers in the middle of the text. 1140, 1150, can't remember exactly. Are they artifacts of the Kindle transcrib..."

It's probably page numbers from the original text.

Patrice wrote: "Bloom is capable of making judgments. In his discussion of Parnell and Kitty O'Shea he says that Kitty O'Shea is an adultress "was Spanish, or half so {like Molly}, types that wouldn't do things b..."

"Adultress" is factual. She was married and took up with Parnell. Might the passionate abandon of southern cultures be meant positively and casting decency to the winds also positive if you find northern narrowness restrictive? It's a world view not a question of morality in my mind. Italians bunch at the ticket window and drive like maniacs, English form neat lines and like to follow rules. I drove with an Italian in England and he loved to complain about British prissiness and pass long lines of patiently waiting Brits to cut in at the front of the line. I'm not sure Joyce finds "decent" an expectation to be respected.

Zippy wrote: "Bloom's solicitous care of Stephen makes me wonder. Frankly, Stephen is an unpleasant companion, yet Bloom tends to him so gently. And he keeps referring to Stephen's mother. Is his kindness simply..."

Great question. Here is Bloom in the previous chapter:

What am I following him for? Still, he's the best of that lot. If I hadn't heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn't have gone and wouldn't have met. Kismet. He'll lose that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for cheapjacks, organs. What do ye lack? Soon got, soon gone.

Bloom is a caretaker with no one to take care of. His wife is cheating on him, his daughter is away in Mullingar, and his son is dead. So he takes care of the Dignam widow, and he buys Banbury cakes for the gulls, and he checks in on Mrs. Purefoy. He isn't sure himself why he follows Stephen to Burke's (it certainly doesn't sound like Bloom's kind of scene) and afterwards to Nighttown, but he immediately thinks that Stephen will lose his cash if someone doesn't look after him, and he's quite right about that.

Thomas wrote: "Bloom is a caretaker with no one to take care of."

I have liked Bloom from the beginning, but this statement makes me like him and feel for him even more. I of course knew of all these facts individually, but I didn't really see them put them together like this until you pointed it out.

Thomas wrote: "Zippy wrote: "Bloom's solicitous care of Stephen makes me wonder. Frankly, Stephen is an unpleasant companion, yet Bloom tends to him so gently. And he keeps referring to Stephen's mother. Is his k..."

When I said that Stephen was unpleasant, I meant that I found him unpleasant.

I guess this passage piqued my interest: "Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks down on Stephen's face and form.)_

BLOOM: _( Communes with the night)_ Face reminds me of his poor mother. In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him. _( He murmurs)_... swear that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal , any part or parts, art or arts..."

So did he catch Stephen's mother in flagrante delicto? Or someone who looked like her? Or did Ferguson's date remind him of his own encounter with Stephen's mother?