Somer, John. “The Self-Reflexive Narrator in the Initial Style of Joyce’s “Ulysses”” James Joyce Quarterly 31.2 (1994): 65-76.

In this article, Somer guides readers through an analysis of three figures central to the narrative structure of Ulysses: the author, the narrator, and “the arranger.” In distinguishing between them, Somer explains that, “while a narrator may appeal to a reader’s mental ear, the arranger frequently appeals to a reader’s physical eye” (69). The arranger is responsible for the physical representation of text on the page, and, specifically in the context of Ulysses, instigates a “self-reflexive” engagement with the text that “forces readers to acknowledge that they are reading” (70). Somer explains that, over the course of Ulysses, the arranger and the narrator are at odds with each other – free indirect discourse, a mimetic narrative form that places readers “in direct contact with reality” (73), is often punctuated by moments where the arranger makes the reader critically aware of the novel’s textuality (when Bloom’s cat utters the orally improbable “Mkgnao” [U 4.16], for example). Somer goes on to cite instances of opaque language in “Calypso” and a divided narrative voice in “Hades” as further evidence of the arranger’s gradually increasing dominance over the more traditional, initial narrative structure of Ulysses. This battle between the narrator and the arranger persists for the duration of the novel until ultimately, Somer argues, the arranger reins victorious in “Sirens” and demonstrates the epitome of what has been a “growing mastery of style” (76).

Mourning

Forms

[in] mourning, mourns, mourners, mournful, Mourne, mournfully, morning

Related Terms

grief, grieving, black, sorrow, clad, day, early, wake

Explication

The word “mourning” gains prominence beginning in episode six with the narration of Patty Dignam’s funeral, and the word is predominantly used to describe individuals who are “in mourning,” wearing the black attire typically associated with funerals in the Western tradition. After Dignam’s funeral, for example, his son walks along the street and wonders, “do they [the schoolboys] notice I’m in mourning” (U. 10. 1159). In this context, the word connotes an external representation of grief that may or may not match up with internal feelings. Bloom, for example, dresses in black to give the appearance of mourning Dignam’s death, but his wandering thoughts during the funeral indicate that he may not actually be grieving.

Joyce also employs the word as a noun: “the mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” (U. 6. 322) at Patty Dignam’s funeral, and “the mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves” (U. 6. 800) at his burial. In these instances, we can infer that the “mourners” are also “in mourning,” wearing black as a physical embodiment of their inner grief. The noun derivative does not allow for individuals to exist outside of their grieving state.

In looking at the homophone “morning” and its connection to “mourning,” it is notable that Bloom dons his black clothing at the beginning of the day, in the “morning”, to attend Dignam’s funeral. Given that Ulysses takes place over the course of only one day, it is implied that Bloom is “in mourning” for the duration of the novel; although worn situationally for Dignam, Bloom’s black attire can be seen as a persistent reminder of his unmitigated grief regarding the death of his son, Rudy.

“Morning” appears 121 times in Ulysses, primarily as a temporal marking to either define the present moment (Stephen says, “Good morning, sir” [U. 2. 426], for example), refer back to it once it has past (in later episodes, it is common to see the phrase “this morning”), or to refer to the coming morning. As Molly says in Penelope, “Ill get up early in the morning” (U. 18. 1498), highlighting the fact that, in contrast to the state of being “in mourning,” which has the potential to be perpetual and without break, “morning” itself is part of a cycle, beginning again each day.

Molly gives us further perspective on Bloom’s mourning when she describes her own “mourning” for Rudy as past tense and unnecessary (“11 years ago … what was the good of going into mourning” [U. 18. 1306]) and then implies that Bloom is overly devoted to the process of grieving (“hed go into mourning for the cat” [U. 18. 1306]). In a subsequent passage that highlights a perhaps fundamental difference between Molly and Bloom, Molly fantasizes about “a nice semitransparent morning gown” (U. 18. 1496) that stands in stark opposition to the black “mourning” apparel Bloom had put on that very morning. Molly’s acknowledgement of both “in mourning” and “morning” itself as non-permanent states from which individuals can come and go hints that perhaps Bloom’s perpetual state of mourning is unnatural, contrary to the Natural Order that facilitates a constant transition between various states of being.

Definitions and Examples

Mourning

1. , Anxiety, sorrow, etc. The action of feeling or expressing sorrow, grief, or regret; sorrowing, lamentation; an instance of this.

1. in mourning: sorrowing or grieving for the death of a person, esp. in the period of the conventional or ceremonial manifestation of sorrow. Also Wearing clothes or covered with the draperies customarily indicative of bereavement. Cf. sense.
   6. “Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning” (6. 40)

• mourning coach  (a) a coach of black colour used by a person during the whole period of his or her mourning (now hist.);  (b) a closed carriage, usually black, used to convey mourners on the occasion of a funeral;  †(c) a coach for conveying a corpse; a hearse (obs.).
  6. “A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married” (6. 322)

1. n., a person who mourns, laments, or grieves; one who mourns the death of a friend or relation; a person who attends a funeral out of respect or affection for the deceased. Also fig.
   6. “The mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” (6. 584).

Morning

1. , Originally: the time of the approach or beginning of ‘morn’; the period around sunrise. In later use usually: the early part of the day, esp. from sunrise until noon or lunchtime.
   1. “A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air” (1. 2-3)

1. this morning: the morning of today
   8. “Funeral was this morning” (8. 220)

• , designating clothing intended to be worn in the morning or daytime
  18. “a nice semitransparent morning gown” (18. 1496)

Related Topics

Funerals

Clothing

Day vs. Night

In his article “Molly’s Flow,” Attridge argues that “Penelope” epitomizes Joyce’s ability to make readers aware of Ulysses’ textuality because reading the atypical syntax of Molly’s episode forces us to be critically aware of our relationship with the text of Ulysses itself. In my own tracing of the progression of the narration and narrative voice in Ulysses, however, it seems like a common theme all throughout Joyce’s text is this ability to make us as readers aware of the fact that we are reading a physical text as opposed to actually experiencing the events of the novel. While I think Attridge is right to claim that the lack of punctuation in “Penelope” does not cause the narration to “flow” like so many scholars claim it does, I wonder if it is too much of a stretch to claim that “the term [flow] would be more accurately used of earlier parts of Ulysses” (547). My own observations regarding the narrative structure, while certainly defining a “flow” at certain points, seem to point to the fact that Joyce (or the narrator? Or the arranger?) is constantly at work to disrupt any sort of discernable narrative flow in order to make us as readers question the nature of the structural ground of Ulysses.

Beginning with Proteus, Episode Three, we see the narrative “flow” of Stephen’s interior monologue interrupted by third-person narration regarding his physical environment – each time Stephen’s conscience seems to almost entirely consume the narration, we are brought back to reality by a harsh transition to “real time” with a more classic, third person narration such as, “wet sand slapped his boots” (37), “the dog’s bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back” (38), or “he lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks” (41). The sensory details of these third-person passages remind us as readers of the physical realities Stephen is experiencing separately from what he is experiencing in his mind (idea taken from my blog post). While Stephen’s monologues themselves may establish a sort of “flow,” it seems that Joyce intentionally breaks that “flow” in order to keep us as readers from being too consumed by any one form of narration. From the beginning of the novel, Joyce can be seen toying with his readers in an attempt to bridge the divide between what is happening in the novel itself and what our experiences are as readers.

Just like Joyce abruptly transitions between narrative styles in episode three, in episode eight he similarly uses narrative style to craft a “then vs. now” dichotomy between Bloom as he sees himself now and Bloom as he existed during the peak of his relationship with Molly (see blog post). 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. By leading us as readers back and forth between these extreme states of being, each characterized by different narrative styles, it seems to me that the narrator creates flow only to eventually disrupt it and place it under our critical eye as readers. It is breaks and transitions in narration like these that bring us into close contact with the characters of the novel and urge us to think about how and what we really can know about them.

Like Henry Staten says in his discussion of Ulysses’ “decomposing form,” Onomatopoeia seen early on in Ulysses “undermines the illusory transparency of language, extravagantly calling attention to the textuality of its text” (382). The “textuality” of Ulysses is a concept that often comes up in scholarship regarding the novel, and, though it may seem only tangentially related to the role of narration, actually serves as a vehicle for narrative voice to become apparent to us as readers. John Somer terms the mechanism behind this narrative style establishment “the arranger” (65) and explains that “the arranger uses narrative devices that divert readers from their experiences of the narrative to their experience of reading the text … it draws readers into such an intense engagement with the novel’s fictive reality that they ironically experience their own pleasure in reading the passage” (74). The passage from “Hades” that Somer cites as evidence of this theory occurs in Episode Six, well before the final “Penelope,” furthering my notion that a key aspect of the experience of reading Ulysses is that reading it makes us as readers aware of our own reading process.

Mourning/Morning

Forms

[in] mourning, mourns, mourners, mournful, Mourne, mournfully, morning

Related Terms

grief, grieving, black, sorrow, clad, day, early, wake

Explication

The word “mourning” gains prominence beginning in episode six with the narration of Patty Dignam’s funeral, and the word is predominantly used to describe individuals who are “in mourning,” wearing the black attire typically associated with funerals in the Western tradition. After Dignam’s funeral, for example, his son walks along the street and wonders, “do they [the schoolboys] notice I’m in mourning” (U. 10. 1159). In this context, the word connotes an external representation of grief that may or may not match up with internal feelings. Bloom, for example, dresses in black to give the appearance of mourning Dignam’s death, but his wandering thoughts during the funeral indicate that he may not actually be grieving.

Similarly, the word is also used as an adjective to describe objects typically associated with mourning, like a “mourning coach” (U. 6. 322) “mourning hat” (U. 6. 40) and “mourning card with a black border round it” (U. 12. 439). Since hats, coaches, and carriages (and individuals for that matter) are not inherently associated with mourning, the addition of “mourning” as an adjective implies that it is a temporary state of being relevant to these objects only in particular situations regarding death.

Joyce also employs the word as a noun: “the mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” (U. 6. 322) at Patty Dignam’s funeral, and “the mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves” (U. 6. 800) at his burial. In these instances, we can infer that the “mourners” are also “in mourning,” wearing black as a physical embodiment of their inner grief. The noun derivative does not allow for individuals to exist outside of their grieving state – while “in mourning” is a state which an individual can pass in and out of, in these examples, we know nothing about the individuals other than that they are “mourners” and it is impossible for us to separate them from that identity.

In looking at the homophone “morning” and its connection to “mourning,” it is notable that Bloom dons his black clothing at the beginning of the day, in the “morning”, to attend Dignam’s funeral. Given that Ulysses takes place over the course of only one day, it is implied that Bloom is “in mourning” for the duration of the novel; although worn situationally for Dignam, Bloom’s black attire can be seen as a persistent reminder of his unmitigated grief regarding the death of his son, Rudy.

“Morning” appears 121 times in Ulysses, primarily as a temporal marking to either define the present moment (Stephen says, “Good morning, sir” [U. 2. 426], for example), refer back to it once it has past (in later episodes, it is common to see the phrase “this morning”), or to refer to the coming morning. As Molly says in Penelope, “Ill get up early in the morning” (U. 18. 1498), highlighting the fact that, in contrast to the state of being “in mourning,” which has the potential to be perpetual and without break, “morning” itself is part of a cycle, beginning again each day.

Molly gives us further perspective on Bloom’s mourning when she describes her own “mourning” for Rudy as past tense and unnecessary (“11 years ago … what was the good of going into mourning” [U. 18. 1306]) and then implies that Bloom is overly devoted to the process of grieving (“hed go into mourning for the cat” [U. 18. 1306]). In a subsequent passage that highlights a perhaps fundamental difference between Molly and Bloom, Molly fantasizes about “a nice semitransparent morning gown” (U. 18. 1496) that stands in stark opposition to the black “mourning” apparel Bloom had put on that very morning. Molly’s acknowledgement of both “in mourning” and “morning” itself as non-permanent states from which individuals can come and go hints that perhaps Bloom’s perpetual state of mourning is unnatural, contrary to the Natural Order that facilitates a constant transition between various states of being.

Definitions and Examples

Mourning

1. , Anxiety, sorrow, etc. The action of feeling or expressing sorrow, grief, or regret; sorrowing, lamentation; an instance of this.

1. in mourning: sorrowing or grieving for the death of a person, esp. in the period of the conventional or ceremonial manifestation of sorrow. Also Wearing clothes or covered with the draperies customarily indicative of bereavement. Cf. sense.
   6. “Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning” (6. 40)

• mourning coach  (a) a coach of black colour used by a person during the whole period of his or her mourning (now hist.);  (b) a closed carriage, usually black, used to convey mourners on the occasion of a funeral;  †(c) a coach for conveying a corpse; a hearse (obs.).
  6. “A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married” (6. 322)

1. n., a person who mourns, laments, or grieves; one who mourns the death of a friend or relation; a person who attends a funeral out of respect or affection for the deceased. Also fig.
   6. “The mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” (6. 584).

Morning

1. , Originally: the time of the approach or beginning of ‘morn’; the period around sunrise. In later use usually: the early part of the day, esp. from sunrise until noon or lunchtime.
   1. “A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air” (1. 2-3)

1. this morning: the morning of today
   8. “Funeral was this morning” (8. 220)

• , designating clothing intended to be worn in the morning or daytime
  18. “a nice semitransparent morning gown” (18. 1496)

Related Topics

Funerals

Clothing

Day vs. Night

Since Episode 15 brought Bloom and Stephen into the same physical space to interact extensively in person for the first time in the novel, the conversational narrative style of Episode 16 helps further define the relationship between Bloom and Stephen.

A dialogue between Bloom and Stephen forms the backbone of Episode 16’s narration, and as the dialogue progresses it becomes evident that, while Bloom and Stephen disagree on mostly everything they talk about, they are intangibly similar in a way that implies the two men to be parts of a sort of greater whole. Bloom and Stephen disagree on the role that work plays in society (p. 526) and the relative evil of selling a body versus selling a soul (p. 517), yet Bloom reflects that it was “as if both their minds were traveling, so to speak, in the one train of thought” (l. 1580). Given their shared physical presence — Bloom literally “touche[s] his companion’s boot” (l. 371) at the beginning of the episode, and walks home with Stephen as two dark figures (p. 541) at the end — it seems that Stephen and Bloom’s apparently divergent belief systems may actually balance each other out and contribute to a sort of shared identity between them.

The phrase on line 1580 is also an example of what Prof. Simpson called “stylistic sloppiness” in his email — even though the phrase “as if” indicates the subsequent line to be a simile, not meant to be taken literally, Bloom (Joyce?) throws in the additional phrase “so to speak,” also prompting a non-literal interpretation and thus making the phrase redundant. Lines like these add to the overall tiredness of the episode, and make Bloom’s exclamation, “Yesterday!” (l. 1575) upon learning of Stephen’s lack of food intake seem even more indicative of Bloom’s father-like tendencies toward Stephen.

In tracking the narrative paths of both Stephen and Bloom over the course of the novel, I found it notable that in Circe, particularly in the final scene, both men finally exist together within the same narrative and physical space.

After being totally emasculated by his hallucinatory interactions with Bello in the second half of the episode, Bloom reclaims his masculinity in the “real time” narrative by taking on a father-like role toward Stephen at the end of the episode. Bloom’s paternalistic instincts lead him care for Stephen, and he “(undoes the buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat) To breathe” (l. 4936), and caring for Stephen leads him to hallucinate an image of his own son (“Rudy!” [l. 4961]). Bloom appears quite powerful at the conclusion of the episode as he “stands erect … holding the hat and ashplant” (l. 4945). Bloom’s masculinity seems to be in part fueled by the possession of the physical ashplant – “the ashplant marks his stride” as he leads the “pack of bloodhounds” (l. 4328) – implying that Bloom’s masculine identity is materially dependent on Stephen’s presence.

While in previous chapters Stephen’s and Bloom’s narratives have been relatively distinct, here we see their identities start to become connected and balance each other out when their paths meet. Stephen’s mother is “beastly dead” (l. 4170), we know from her “emaciated” (l. 4157) spirit that rises through the floor, and Bloom’s son Rudy is dead as well. It seems that, in this final scene, Stephen and Bloom balance each other out by each fulfilling the role of the missing person in their lives, Bloom as Parent and Stephen as Son.

Since this episode is narrated largely through drunken hallucinations, I had to rely on the Bloomsday book to keep track of exactly what was happening in terms of specific narrative identities.

I’m interested in looking more at the moment on line 2491 where “Virag truculent, his jowl set, stares at the lamp. Grave Bloom regards Zoe’s neck. Henry gallant turns with pedant dewlap to the piano.” Blamires describes this moment as “the Bloom trinity” made up of “Bloom the knowledgable (Virag) … Bloom the grave … and Bloom the gallant (Henry)” (179). By viewing the individuals in Bloom’s hallucinations as projections of his own different self-identities, the character of Bloom becomes more complex and it becomes harder to understand him as one cohesive identity. By witnessing Bloom respond to the (hallucinated) personal critiques of different individuals in his life, we get the idea that his identity shifts depending on the circumstances in which he finds himself.

I’m also interested in looking at the different Blooms that appear in his first two hallucinations — Bloom on trial (“I am a man misunderstood” (l. 775)) and Bloom the politician (“I, Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand” (l. 1541)). Both of these Blooms use first person narration, but the specific identities diverge from each other.

“Why, look at the man’s private life! Leading a quadruple existence! Street angel and house devil” (l. 852)

“He addressed me in several handwritings” (l. 1045)

Mourning

Forms

[in] mourning, mourns, mourners, mournful, Mourne, mournfully

Related Terms

grief, grieving, black, sorrow, clad

Explication

The word “mourning” gains prominence beginning in episode six with the narration of Patty Dignam’s funeral, and the word is predominantly used to describe individuals who are “in mourning,” meaning they are wearing the black attire typically associated with funerals in the Western tradition. After Dignam’s funeral, for example, his son walks along the street and wonders, “do they [the schoolboys] notice I’m in mourning” (U. 10. 1159). In this context, the word connotes an external representation of grief that may or may not match up with internal feelings. Bloom, for example, dresses in black to give the appearance of mourning Dignam’s death, but his wandering thoughts during the funeral indicate that he may not actually be grieving.

Similarly, the word is also used as an adjective to describe objects typically associated with mourning, like a “mourning coach” (U. 6. 322) “mourning hat” (U. 6. 40) and “mourning card with a black border round it” (U. 12. 439). Since hats, coaches, and carriages (and individuals for that matter) are not inherently associated with mourning, the addition of “mourning” as an adjective implies that it is a temporary state of being.

Joyce also employs the word as a noun: “the mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” (U. 6. 322) at Patty Dignam’s funeral, and “the mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves” (U. 6. 800) at his burial. In these instances, we can infer that the “mourners” are also “in mourning,” wearing black as a physical embodiment of their inner grief. The noun derivative does not allow for individuals to exist outside of their grieving state – while “in mourning” is a state which an individual can pass in and out of, in these examples, we know nothing about the individuals other than that they are “mourners” and it is impossible for us to separate them from that identity.

Definitions and Examples

1. , Anxiety, sorrow, etc. The action of feeling or expressing sorrow, grief, or regret; sorrowing, lamentation; an instance of this.

1. in mourning: sorrowing or grieving for the death of a person, esp. in the period of the conventional or ceremonial manifestation of sorrow. Also Wearing clothes or covered with the draperies customarily indicative of bereavement. Cf. sense.
   6. “Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning” ( 6. 40)

• mourning coach  (a) a coach of black colour used by a person during the whole period of his or her mourning (now hist.);  (b) a closed carriage, usually black, used to convey mourners on the occasion of a funeral;  †(c) a coach for conveying a corpse; a hearse (obs.).
  6. “A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married” ( 6. 322)

1. n., a person who mourns, laments, or grieves; one who mourns the death of a friend or relation; a person who attends a funeral out of respect or affection for the deceased. Also fig.
   6. “The mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks” ( 6. 584).

Related Topics

Funerals

Clothing

The central narrative of episode twelve is told in first person by an unnamed individual who gives us an outside (of Bloom’s head) perspective on Bloom. While the specific identity of the narrator remains unknown, we gather throughout the episode that the individual is extremely nationalistic and xenophobic, especially when it comes to his opinions on Irish relations with the English. In witnessing this narrator interact with Bloom, we see a tension slowly develop between the rigid nationalistic ideals held by many Irishmen (I am taking the unnamed narrator to embody, like the unnamed “citizen” also in this episode, popular Irish belief regarding nationhood) and the more open and accepting ideals of Bloom.

Bloom’s insertions into the xenophobic conversation among the narrator, the citizen, and the men at the bar are all quite “gentle” (Blamires). The tension mounts slowly, and at first Bloom only disagrees with the men on issues of alcohol intake (257) and sports (260). Soon, however, we see the tension escalate as talk turns to international relations and Bloom tries to mediate the predominantly xenophobic discussion by saying, “isn’t discipline the same everywhere” (270), and arguing that “I belong to a race too … that is hated and persecuted” (271).

We have gathered thus far in the narrative that Bloom is slightly out of touch with those around him (he is often ignored during group interactions with these other men), and this tension between opposing ideologies on nationhood, exposed by the new narrator, helps us understand why. The men do not accept Bloom’s relatively loose definition of nationhood, that is “the same people living in the same place” (272), and as the narrator sits on the toilet at the end of the episode, he mocks Bloom’s own identification as an Irishman, saying “Ireland my nation says he (hoik! Phthook!) never be up to those bloody (there’s the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cockoos!” (275). Similarly, the citizen says, “By Jesus, I’ll crucify him so I will” (280) when Bloom stands up for his Jewish identity.

While the narrator and the citizen are separate characters in this episode, the line between the two unnamed identities blurs as the narrative voice in the chapter shifts between first person (the narrator) to third person narration in which the same narrator describes interactions between Bloom and the citizen. The above passage in which the narrator aligns his own xenophobic views on nationhood with those of the citizen strengthens the notion that Bloom is severely outnumbered regarding his own more liberal views – two unnamed “citizens” of Ireland who seemingly hold no prior knowledge of Bloom both, in this episode, narrate extreme hatred toward Bloom and his own origins. The “I” narration scattered throughout the episode, therefore, could perhaps be seen as a personification of the voice of Irish nationalism.

The OED cites various definitions of the word “mourning,” ranging from the rather straightforward “Anxiety, sorrow, etc.” to more complex definitions like “yearning; pining from love.”

Given that many of the instances of the word “mourning” in Ulysses have to do with clothing, the definition of “Mourning” that I find most interesting and relevant is:

5. a. “The conventional or ceremonial manifestation of sorrow for the death of a person; esp. the wearing of clothes associated with death (in Western society usually black). Also: the period during which such clothes are worn.”

This definition falls under the broader definition “Grieving caused by the death of a person” and presents black clothing as a physical embodiment of grief caused by death

The OED dates this definition back to 1325 Middle English as seen in the Biblical books of Genesis and Exodus in the form of “murning.” It seems that the earliest instance of “mourning” as we see it written today (that is, not in Middle English) occurred in 1589 in Puttenham’s “poeticall mournings in verse.” By 1911, the word’s usage seems to parallel how we see it today, as the OED cites Greer’s passage in which a narrator decides “to dress in black as an expression of my mourning for my father.”

The OED also goes into the specific details about the phrase “in mourning,” which appears frequently in Ulysses. The OED defines “in mourning” as:

1. “sorrowing or grieving for the death of a person, esp. in the period of the conventional or ceremonial manifestation of sorrow”
2. “wearing clothes or covered with the draperies customarily indicative of bereavement”