A lot of the below definitions of “wake” seem to be pretty straightforward, however there were quite a lot that were interesting to find. Some dealt with “watching” or “observing” and others might have dealt with more “nauticle-like” references:

• “The state of wakefulness esp. during normal hours of sleep. Obs. exc. in sleep and (or) wake, wake and dream.”
• “Abstinence from sleep, watching, practised as a religious observance: often coupled with fasting. Also, an instance of this; a night spent in devout watching (on the eve of a festival, of the reception of knighthood, etc.); a watch, vigil.”
• “The watching (esp. by night) of relatives and friends beside the body of a dead person from death to burial, or during a part of that time; the drinking, feasting, and other observances incidental to this. Now chiefly Anglo-Irish or with reference to Irish custom. Also applied to similar funeral customs in other times or among non-Christian peoples”
• “Used by Hogg for: A serenade, nocturnal song.”
• “With unfavourable implication: To sit up late for pleasure or revelry; to turn night into day”
• “To be active, alert, stirring, vigilant. Const. as above; also, to be diligent, exert oneself to(do something). to wake over, to occupy one’s mind with. Obs.”
• “Phrases. to fetch (get, get into, have) the wake of (a pursued vessel): to get so close to her as to be able to see, and steer by, her wake. to stay a weather of a wake:”
• “The disturbance caused by a body swimming, or moved, in water”
• “Naut. or quasi-nautical. in the wake of (a vessel); in her (its) wake, etc.: immediately behind, and (properly) in the actual track made by, a vessel; immediately backward and along the track made. Also used of any person or persons aboard, as in his, our, etc., wake; behind his, our, etc., vessel.”

I found that Bloom is implicated centrally and in multiple ways within the opposition of native versus foreign in episodes 4-8. In contrast to Stephen, Bloom is established immediately as a character with the capacity and tendency to consider life from perspectives other than his own and to seemingly impulsively put himself in the shoes of others. In this fundamental way, Bloom’s very nature is one which repeatedly blurs the lines between native and foreign, foreign here being configured as that which is foreign to the self. One of the instances that Joyce uses to establish Bloom as such comes at the beginning of episode 4, when Bloom daydreams of the Orient, and then breaks away from this stereotyped fantasy when he considers that his conception of this foreign land is one that has perhaps been dictated untruthfully. In this moment, Bloom’s openmindedness is the means through which Joyce brings into relief a crucial distinction between the foreign that is depicted and that which actually exists. That Bloom in falls back into the daydream of the Orient despite that he has made this recognition at later points in the texts suggests both Bloom’s desire to escape his immediate circumstances as well as his ability to find comfort in that which he knows to be unreal.

In these episodes, another way in which Bloom is configured into the opposition of native vs. foreign is through his relationship to the land, both literally and figuratively. At the end of episode 4, Bloom considers working in his garden in some specificity, revealing a knowledge that seems to convey a strong connection with the land and desire to maintain it. Yet he ultimately decides against it because the last time he gardened he was stung by a bee. Here and in other instances in this episode (e.g. when Bloom considers buying a tract of land in a newly founded Zionist colony and when he reveals that he pays a gardener to pull the weeds that surround Rory’s grave), Bloom exhibits a desire to cultivate (and perhaps also, exploit) the land, to profit both materially and spiritually from this work,  yet also an aversion towards this work and unwillingness to perform it himself. Here the reader is forced to consider whether

In chapters 7 & 8, Bloom’s appears to be the foreigner, the outsider, within the social spaces and situations that he must navigate. Despite that his social manor clashes starkly with those of the characters with whom he interacts in these episodes, he is also aligned with the nationalist cause (most clearly at the beginning of chapter 8), and thereby comes to occupy both the position of the native and the foreigner. Considering that Bloom is the only Jewish character that we have encountered in the text thus far, his is further enforced through MacHugh’s equation of the Irish to the Jews in Egypt that he sustains throughout the episode. In episode 9, Bloom reveals that his conception of home, the foundation of a “native” positioning, is contingent both upon sex and food, which are most notably carnal rather than political aspects.

Very quickly into episode 7, we encounter a veiled reference to an American racist institution. Included in the newspaper is a page called “Uncle Toby’s Page for Tiny Tots.” (7.94-95). As illustrated in Ulysses Annotated, this is a play on a children’s activities page in an Irish newspaper called The Weekly Freeman called “Uncle Remus’ Address to his Nieces and Nephews. Uncle Remus was a book of African American folktales for children published in the late 19^th century, using the stereotype of an old former slave passing on stories romanticizing his past as a slave, serving as a testament to the myth of the kind and gentle slave owner. I tried to find a photo online of one of these pages to confirm that it is intended to be the same Uncle Remus that gained popularity in Reconstruction Era America, but that proved harder than I thought. Assuming it is the same though, it seems to be a fairly decent summary of what blackness in Ulysses has seemed to be thus far: mentions of blackness and racist language seem to come from a romanticizing of, or fantasizing about, an imaginary exotic other, in this case the other being the old, gentle, American slave, the “Uncle Tom” figure. We have not encountered the exotic other explicitly in the form of blackface and minstrel performance yet, but in this reference to Uncle Remus, Joyce is making a connection to an American institution of racism in pop culture. It is one that while not unknown to the Irish, carries entirely different meaning in Joyce’s country. The sight of Uncle Remus does not carry with it a sort of Old South Nostalgia as it would in America, but rather the same sort of curiosity that caused people to flock to freak shows and circuses to see Africans as though they were animals in the zoo. It is interesting to me that even though Ulysses takes place across an ocean, that a wholly American form of racism has taken a hold there in the form of this newspaper column.

While my last post about Beginnings and Endings lacked any specific reference to the actual beginning or ending of each episode, this week it seemed particularly important to at least touch upon the beginning and ending of Episode 7 (Aeolus). Specifically, the item being discussed (tramcars), as well as the parallel nature of the beginning and ending of the episode, seemed to emphasize the overall concept of a beginnings and an endings (and often how similar they can be). Episode 7 begins by listing the different places these tramcars go as well as describing the audible exclamations of their destinations. If it wasn’t evident that there is a double emphasis of beginnings at the opening of this portion, the “timekeeper[‘s]” announcement of “Start, Palmerston Park!” (7.13) surely brings to the forefront of how this is the beginning of a journey (actually starting travelling somewhere). Correspondingly, the end of Episode 7 also brings up the image of tramcars, however at this point they are “motionless,” “all still,” and, “becalmed in short circuit” (7.1043-1047). While this portion of the novel began with references to movement and starts, the ending does an expected opposite.

Another aspect that tied in closely with my exploration of beginnings and endings was how characters entered and exited the room. Because the episode was largely theatric in terms of the constant dialogue and flow of characters, the fact that entrances were so prominent seemed to be an important contributor to characterization. For example, when Bloom enters the office of the “Evening Telegraph” (7. 235) it is explained as “He entered softly.” Although we know that he has a specific task to accomplish and a reasoning for being in this setting, the ways in which he enters a busy situation says a lot about his character–desire to avoid being any sort of bother upon entrance. Such characterization seems even more apparent when put in contrast to both the entrance and consequential characterization of J.J. O’Molloy: “The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was pushed in” (7.280-281). Clearly, this ‘beginning’ (the beginning of our understanding of this character) is indicative of the kind of awareness O’Molloy has of his surroundings and others.

The last example is much less obvious but seems crucial to the examination of beginnings and endings. It is the moment during which Bloom is recounting the past and begins asking himself questions pertaining to the permanence of time (and death). First, death as an ending comes up again when the narration (Bloom) states: “When we left Lombard street west something changed. Could never like it again after Rudy” (8.609-610), thus reiterating the recurring theme of death as an ending in multiple ways. However, the permanence that comes along with the connotations death carries is complicated when Bloom ponders: “Would you go back to then?” In a discussion of beginnings and endings, the idea one or the other being less than a completely permanent concept is something to look out for moving forward in the novel.

Since my obsession is haunting I find it hard to stay away from writing about the events of episode 6, Hades. My blog post is going to be a little different than normal as I try to sort out some big ideas that had begun developing by the end of that section and informed my reading for today.

The characters of Ulysses have been very preoccupied with the cyclical nature of life. See: Stephen mentioning womb and tomb in the same breath (3.402 among others), Hamlet fathering himself (1.556), a fox burying his grandmother (2.115) and so on. Birth, life, and death are a circle that even sometimes get confused with each other – “In the midst of death we are in life” (6.759). This constantly cyclical motion complements Bloom’s preoccupation with the idea of metempsychosis and reincarnation, concepts which recycle soul and energy. (Ooh, and remember how the book begins and ends with the same letter?)

So, what does this have to do with haunting? Ulysses is much less a book about the human life cycle than a book about how that cycle gets disrupted. Death in infancy, suicide, necrophilia, and castration are a few of the fun ways that the natural order of birth-life-and-death gets fiddled with but what I’m most interested in of course is haunting (which by the way Hades lays down pretty specifically three times in a row: “I will appear to you after death. You will see my ghost after death. My ghost will haunt you after death” (6.1000).)

I wanted to include that in my blog post because it seems important to share the lens that I’ve started to see this book through. Accordingly I also want people to let me know if they disagree with parts (or all…) of my ideas because I want to address that before I try to take them further. Anyway at the risk of having little to discuss about today’s reading here’s a thought:

In episode 7 Bloom is referred to out loud as a “ghost” (237). Obviously this is partially because he is seen as laughably subdued and colorless by the other men in the office, but it is still an interesting word choice. Why else is Bloom a ghost? Usually we regard Rudy as the ghost that haunts Bloom. (I think I’ve heard something about fathers-being-sons-being-fathers before…) Maybe Bloom is a ghost of the man he was before Rudy’s birth-death (and when he still had sex with his wife.) He does do quite a bit of wandering, watching, and repeating. Hmm.

In tracking various instances of storytelling and narration in episodes seven and eight, I was particularly drawn to instances where Bloom tells us stories about his relationship with Molly and gives us insight into the nature of their past together. Specifically in episode eight, such stories come about via Bloom’s vivid flashbacks to his past, and as he walks around Dublin a sort of “then vs. now” dichotomy develops between Bloom as he sees himself now and Bloom as he existed during the peak happiness of his relationship with Molly.

Over the course of episode eight it has become evident that Bloom is still somewhat infatuated with Molly – she constantly appears in his internal narration, and most interactions he has with people in real life remind him of Molly. Bloom thinks, “Lucky Molly got over hers lightly” (132) when thinking about Mrs. Purefoy’s pregnancies, he remembers that “Molly had the elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs” (127) that she wore to the races that happened “six years. Ten years ago” (127), he plans ahead for her birthday (138), and plans to buy her “silk petticoats” (147) to match her new garters. He says, “remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar up. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. Brrfoo! Blew up her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin …” (128), and we come to understand Bloom’s relationship with Molly as one that makes him inclined to fantasize about his own past.

These subtle references to Molly climax as Bloom sits and relives a love scene between himself and Molly in his mind and he explicitly defines “Me. And me now” (144), his “downcast eyes” at present contrasting with his “ravished” “wild” state in his memory with Molly. The love scene that he describes between himself and Molly is an extremely detailed sensory experience, and his retelling makes it evident to us as readers that the two of them once shared a very real connection that seems to have disintegrated over time. Passages such as these that embody Bloom’s longing for his past relationship make earlier passages, such as Bloom’s paused presence outside of Molly’s door, even more poignant.

Joyce manifests Bloom’s description of “me now” in moments where other individuals ask him how his wife is doing and Bloom gives only surface level responses. When Nosey Flynn asks him, “Wife well?” he only responds “quite well, thanks … “ (141) and then changes the subject to his sandwich – these guarded replies contrast starkly with the sensory experiences that Bloom relays to us in his own consciousness, the “me” he seems to feel represents his true self. But of course no narration can ever be straightforward, so Bloom posits, “I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I?” (137) and ultimately questioning whether or not the person he was during the peak of his relationship with Molly can actually be defined as “himself”.

Regardless, though, Molly’s constant presence in Bloom’s internal narration helps us track him as a character and better understand his various thought processes. Just like Joyce continually references “trams passing one another” (134) to give us a narrative constant and help us keep track of reality, he plants Molly in Bloom’s internal narrative to remind us of one fundamental aspect of Bloom’s personal narrative.

Episode VIII brings us the discovery that Bloom begins his correspondence with Martha Clifford via a personal ad reading, “Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentlemen in literary work.” (326-327.8) This connects to several other occurrences to open up a variety of interpretive possibilities. Firstly, we may use this to interpret Bloom’s correspondence with Martha, posing as Henry Flower, as an act of art-making. The idea of viewing of a man’s idle, absent-minded attempt at an affair as a sort of literature is very much in line with Joyce’s other jabs at art, such as Stephen comparing Irish art to the cracked looking-glass of a servant or Bloom wiping himself with a prize-winning story. Another angle is to look the ad through the lens of Bloom; his only other attempts at art-making are centered around women as well, specifically Molly. In Episode IV, Bloom remembers how he used to record everything Molly said while she dressed (especially interesting given the importance of her dressing in Episode VII). It’s worth noting that both of these literary endeavors are, in a sense that might be significant to Bloom, fruitless, as they are both centered around women with whom Bloom could potentially, but does not, have a sexual relationship.

“The fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life depended on i. Good stroke. Give me the fidgets to look. Tear to eat his three hands. Tear it limb from limb. Second nature to him. Born with a silver knife in his mouth… Out I hate dirty eaters.”

In Lestrygonians on pg. 139 we receive a 3^rd person close perspective to Mr. Bloom that is quite at odds with our earliest impression of him. That opening passage is rife with symbolism that might be considered “dirty eat(ing)”, but Bloom is so disgusted by people taking pleasure at a simple meal that he feels the need to leave. Aside from his consumption of animal’s innards, described great relish, his behavior within the restaurant reveals an underlining hypocrisy within Bloom’s attitude, which manifests itself in his inability to connect with his peers (as demonstrated in ch.7). In this way consumption highlights some of Bloom’s social anxieties; he can enjoy in food while others eating is disgusting.

Apart from the section regarding the consumption of plums, chapter 8 was largely bereft of any mention of food. However, chapter 9 continuously mentions food as Bloom’s hunger seems to drive the plot. His thoughts tend to wander towards food, yet despite his hunger, Bloom is unable to satiate himself and continues to think of the odd things people eat. When food, or the consumption of food, is mentioned it is generally described as being repulsive.

After concerning himself with Dilly Dedalus’ food security, Bloom purchases some bread so that he can feed “those poor birds.” However, the simple joy of feeding animals falls flat when the birds do not show Bloom gratitude for tossing bread. Even in leisure, food fails to provide Bloom with satisfaction. Bloom begins to think of Jewish restrictions on food and then turns his mind towards the notion of a Christmas dinner and all the tradition that accompanies it. Bloom enters the Burton restaurant which is described in a sort of primal, barnyard manner. Bloom sees men “wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food,” which immediately evokes animal imagery, particularly after Bloom says, “see the animals feed,” (8, 651). This environment is too much for Bloom to handle, causing him to try Davy Byrne’s for a meal. Although Bloom is less hostile to the atmosphere of Byrne’s, his food is described as similarly unsavory. He orders a sandwich with “relish of disgust pungent mustard” and “the feety savour of green cheese,” (8, 819). However, despite the unappealing description, Bloom enjoys his meal. Bloom’s bizarre resentment of food is further compounded after a lengthy rant about the unpleasantness of Oysters. He seems to be more concerned with the critique of, or curiosity with other people’s food and their consumption habits.

I am considering writing my lexicon entry on teeth. “Teeth” appears 48 times in the text, and “tooth” appears 13 times. What’s interesting to me about teeth is the way they always seem to be accompanied by adjectives: milkwhite teeth, rotten teeth, rat’s teeth, false teeth, smiling teeth, unwashed teeth, etc.

Teeth seem to play several roles in the text. They are indicators of health and hygine (hence the numerous mentions of washing and brushing teeth, or the lack there of – and Ireland is described by Mulligan as having an abundance of “rotten teeth and rotten guts.” Queen Victoria is “the old hag with the yellow teeth.”)

Teeth are also connected to animality (of both animals and people) – we learn of the cat’s “milkwhite” teeth, and of the champing of a horse’s teeth. We also encounter gnashing, grinding, and growling teeth, as well as bared teeth, but in human mouths.

Finally, there is the connection between teeth and potency/power – the idea of being defanged.

Another words I considered were “heresiarch” and “eleven.”