Plock, V. “’Object Lessons’: Bloom and His Things” James Joyce Quarterly, vol. 49 no. 3-4, 2012, pp. 557-572.

Related Topics

Marxism

Materialism

Objects

Object-Subject Relationships

Link to full text: https://muse.jhu.edu/article/545243/pdf

Plock begins this article with a discussion of the modern novel, specifically looking at two essays by Willa Cather and Virginia Woolf, which both contest that “the objects and overcrowded interiors piled up” (Plock 558) in modern novels detract from the subject-object relationship. Unlike other modern, avant-gard novels, Plock argues that Ulysses is not actually filled with the clutter that plagues the others, but instead creates a strong sense of significance between subjects and objects. This connects to Plock’s thesis, as she argues that this linkage between subject and object emerges most strongly in the “Ithaca” episode, as the reader sees a change from Bloom being surrounded by “commercial, capitalist, and social exchanges” (559) to a static position amongst many private, emotionally charged, and significant objects and memoirs. Plock argues that these personal objects create a sense of intimacy and connection into Bloom’s world through physical objects.

Before actually entering the text of “Ithaca”, Plock does a sort of meta-look at this episode and how it functions, comparing it to other episodes to reveal its differences and strategies. Plock discusses the episode’s obsession with lists (560), and notes that this chapter abandons the deep thought or stream of consciousness narrative, “appear[ing] as an all-inclusive but sterile account of miscellaneous materials, one that remains untainted by emotiveness and sentiment” (560). However, while seemingly unattached, Plock discusses how we have seen this strategy from Bloom whenever he is troubled; that is, his focus on abstract or complicated theoretical problems instead of the actual issue. With this framework, Plock transitions into revealing how this framework makes “Ithaca” one of “the most introspective of all episodes in Ulysses” (561).

In discussing textual examples from “Ithaca”, Plock turns to the failing relationships between Bloom and Stephen, and Molly and Bloom, linking these failures to physical objects in the text. She examines the moment in Bloom’s kitchen with the tea cups, where Bloom deliberately chooses a similar mug to Stephen’s instead of his favorite mustache cup, commenting that “while Bloom demands that material objects perform, once more, their conjunctive work, Stephen fails to reciprocate” (563). Plock marks this instance–over a failure to connect using the material–as the deterioration of their bond. Plock also examines many of the other objects listed, suggesting that they help the reader to develop deeper and more comprehensive views of Bloom’s emotions (566). In examining the significance of physical objects in his relationship with Molly, Plock looks to two parallel instances: when Bloom picks up her old undergarments that morning, and how he performed the same actions with her newer and fancier lingerie after coming home. Plock notes that Bloom’s habits of handling her undergarments both link him to her in an intimate fashion, but paradoxically limit him from further or deeper involvement, which is symbolically representative of his relationship with her. However, Plock concludes that while object investment has not been successful in these relationships, it is an incredibly important aspect of Bloom’s personality and how he relates with and develops an emotional connection in his world. Plock reconnects with her initial discussion by concluding that Ulysses successfully “participates in the general decluttering of the modern novel advocated by Cather and Woolf” (569).

Related Articles:

Dogsbody

Forms: dogsbody

Related terms/ideas: Dog/s, body/ies, dogskull, dogsniff, bitchbody

Explication:

In Ulysses, the term “dogsbody” only occurs five times. The first time it is used condescendingly by Buck to describe Stephen, and the second use occurs almost immediately after, as Stephen internalizes the term and refers to himself as a dogsbody. The other two instances occur in Episode three as Stephen watches a dog sniff the carcass of another dog. Interestingly in this instance, the term is actually used to describe the body of the dead dog, and follows the terms “dogskull” and “dogsniff”. Thus in the second two instances, it used like many of Joyce’s other combined words and literally means the body of a dog.

In the first two instances of its use between Buck and Stephen, Buck uses this term to call attention to Stephen’s need of appropriate clothing and secondhand clothes, which seems to be an incorrect use of the word. A few passages later, Stephen looks in a mirror and seems slightly repulsed at his face, thinking “Who chose this face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin” (episode 3). He seems to internalize Buck’s insult, but again does not use the term in its dictionary definition. In Ulysses, this second definition of “dogsbody” seems to be an insulting term for someone who appears to be of a lower class, a status which is marked by secondhand clothing and an association with pests.

The term again resurfaces for a final time in the Circe episode, as an imaginary Buck Mulligan tells Stephen “The mockery of it! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket” (episode 15). Again, this term becomes associated with Buck, Stephen, death, and corpses. From its five uses in the novel, the word emerges with two somewhat distinct definitions; the first falls into Joyce’s familiar custom of putting two words together that literally mean those two words. An example of this first described instance comes from Episode 3, as Stephen watches a dog sniff another dead dog’s body. However, the second definition is slightly more complicated. It is a term that Buck calls Stephen to insult him, one that becomes associated with his body, physical appearance, and lack of appropriate clothing. That said, once Buck calls Stephen a dogsbody, Stephen seems to internalize it as a source of shame, which further becomes visible as he associates the term with his mother’s death in Circe.

The bodies of actual dogs are also important to the novel as well. Many dogs appear throughout the novel, but there are two that are specifically interesting. In “Cyclops”, the dog Garryowen appears to belong to the citizen, but we later find out he is owned by Giltrap (who is Gerty MacDowell’s grandfather). Garryowen seems to mainly exist in the novel as a tool of intimidation–as he mostly sits and growls–but there is an odd moment in which the citizen “starts hauling and mauling and talking to [Gerryown] in Irish and the old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera” (episode 12). In Circe, Bloom is followed by a dog that he imagines is continuously changing its body, as it becomes a retriever, a wolfdog, and mastiff. He feeds the dog the organs that he has been carrying, but it continues to follow him throughout the episode, and the occasional bark or dog noise is mentioned in the narration.

 Definitions and examples:

Noun:

1. naut. slang: Peas boiled in a cloth, pease pudding (sea biscuits softened in water, with sugar added)

   –On the ship, the sailors were regularly served dogsbody.

2. a junior officer or midshipman

   –Lyle had just joined the navy, so he was known as a dogsbody on the ship.

3. colloq. a person who is given menial tasks

   –Having just joined the crew, Matthew was forced to do the terrible jobs of a dogsbody.

Verb

4. to act or work as a dogsbody; to carry out menial tasks.

–New cops on the force must do their time dogsbodying and patrol traffic.

Related topics:

dirty clothing, corpses, bodies, Kinch/Stephen Dedalus, Buck Mulligan

Tracking my obsession of “the unspoken” throughout Ulysses has been pretty difficult, and in hindsight, I wish I had chosen a much more concrete topic. While this obsession did lend me a lot of wiggle room when it came to posting each night, I do not feel like having it as my obsession gave me a better understanding of the novel, mainly because of how unspecific and massive this obsession could be. That said, I’ll now discuss the ways in which I did find a consistent thread throughout my topic.

Ulysses as a novel has many different styles of narration, and some of these episodes occur completely in the thoughts and minds of Stephen, Bloom, or Molly. What I saw as the three main episodes of unspoken “stream of consciousness” for each character, respectively, were Proteus, Circe, and Penelope. While similar in the basic format, the narration of each episode is incredibly different, which seems like another way that Joyce works to create a sense of individuality in each character. In Proteus, Stephen’s thoughts are difficult to follow, as they trace the works of many great philosophers and writers, but this format is probably the most traditional or common “stream of consciousness”.  but he comes off as incredibly well educated and intelligent, if not a little narcissistic and deliberately obtuse. Bloom is quite obviously not as intelligent as Stephen, but in Circe, his masochistic fantasies reveal an intellect and depth to his character. The style of Circe–set as a play with stage directions–also reflects a greater literary tradition. However, in the final episode of Penelope–which I talked about in my last post–Molly seems to lack these characteristics, and even the way her prose is styled further suggests this lack. While one of the critical articles we read for class points out that Molly’s lack of schooling, and therefore proper grammar and syntax, would have been common at the time, the majority of the content of her thoughts is focused on stereotypically feminine issues. Thus, this is one of the main, more consistent ways in which I saw Joyce using the unspoken elements of the novel to subtly add another complex level to the development of the main characters.

Dogsbody

Forms: dogsbody

Related terms/ideas: Dog/s, body/ies, dogskull, dogsniff, bitchbody

Explication:

In Ulysses, the term “dogsbody” only occurs five times. The first time it is used condescendingly by Buck to describe Stephen, and the second use occurs almost immediately after, as Stephen internalizes the term and refers to himself as a dogsbody. The other two instances occur in Episode three as Stephen watches a dog sniff the carcass of another dog. Interestingly in this instance, the term is actually used to describe the body of the dead dog, and follows the terms “dogskull” and “dogsniff”. Thus in the second two instances, it used like many of Joyce’s other combined words and literally means the body of a dog.

In the first two instances of its use between Buck and Stephen, Buck uses this term to call attention to Stephen’s need of appropriate clothing and secondhand clothes, which seems to be an incorrect use of the word. A few passages later, Stephen looks in a mirror and seems slightly repulsed at his face, thinking “Who chose this face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin” (episode 3). He seems to internalize Buck’s insult, but again does not use the term in its dictionary definition. In Ulysses, this second definition of “dogsbody” seems to be an insulting term for someone who appears to be of a lower class, a status which is marked by secondhand clothing and an association with pests.

The term again resurfaces for a final time in the Circe episode, as an imaginary Buck Mulligan tells Stephen “The mockery of it! Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket” (episode 15). Again, this term becomes associated with Buck, Stephen, death, and corpses. From its five uses in the novel, the word emerges with two somewhat distinct definitions; the first falls into Joyce’s familiar custom of putting two words together that literally mean those two words. An example of this first described instance comes from Episode 3, as Stephen watches a dog sniff another dead dog’s body. However, the second definition is slightly more complicated. It is a term that Buck calls Stephen to insult him, one that becomes associated with his body, physical appearance, and lack of appropriate clothing. That said, once Buck calls Stephen a dogsbody, Stephen seems to internalize it as a source of shame, which further becomes visible as he associates the term with his mother’s death in Circe.

The bodies of actual dogs are also important to the novel as well. Many dogs appear throughout the novel, but there are two that are specifically interesting. In “Cyclops”, the dog Garryowen appears to belong to the citizen, but we later find out he is owned by Giltrap (who is Gerty MacDowell’s grandfather). Garryowen seems to mainly exist in the novel as a tool of intimidation–as he mostly sits and growls–but there is an odd moment in which the citizen “starts hauling and mauling and talking to [Gerryown] in Irish and the old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera” (episode 12). In Circe, Bloom is followed by a dog that he imagines is continuously changing its body, as it becomes a retriever, a wolfdog, and mastiff. He feeds the dog the organs that he has been carrying, but it continues to follow him throughout the episode, and the occasional bark or dog noise is mentioned in the narration.

 Definitions and examples:

Noun:

1. naut. slang: Peas boiled in a cloth, pease pudding (sea biscuits softened in water, with sugar added)

   –On the ship, the sailors were regularly served dogsbody.

2. a junior officer or midshipman

   –Lyle had just joined the navy, so he was known as a dogsbody on the ship.

3. colloq. a person who is given menial tasks

   –Having just joined the crew, Matthew was forced to do the terrible jobs of a dogsbody.

Verb

4. to act or work as a dogsbody; to carry out menial tasks.

–New cops on the force must do their time dogsbodying and patrol traffic.

Related topics:

dirty clothing, corpses, bodies, Kinch/Stephen Dedalus, Buck Mulligan

Finally, we get to see things from Molly’s point of view, which occurs as a giant interior monologue/stream of consciousness. After finally being exposed to Molly’s innermost thoughts on her marriage and problems with Bloom, I was struck by how many of her thoughts are revealed to the reader, yet remain unspoken to Bloom. He frequently thinks that Molly has had many infidelities, yet we find out she has been loyal until today’s incident with Boylan, all the while knowing that Bloom has his various infidelities as well. And Molly is not nearly as indifferent or uncaring towards him as Bloom supposes: Molly thinks frequently about him and his past loves and current interests. Thus the root problem of the Blooms’ relationship seems to be their inability to speak their thoughts out loud to each other. The narration of Penelope may also mimic this idea, as it is probably one of the hardest chapters to read, following Oxen of the Sun, suggesting that the reader–like Bloom–struggles to understand and interpret Molly’s thoughts.

On a separate note, most of this episode seemed to revolve around the topics of sex and clothing. It seemed like a kind of chauvinistic and stereotypical depiction of what a bored housewife might think of at the end of the day. The topic of sex is understandably more relevant, but the incredible focus on fabric, clothing, and what other women were wearing seemed much less so, and felt detrimental to Joyce’s attempted portrayal of a realistic character.

In reading the first section of Circe, I was really interested in a desire of Bloom’s that appears in the italicized–and unspoken–narration. Admittedly, many weird desires are given voice here, but I found Bloom’s wish to “return to nature as a purely domestic animal” (15.903) particularly striking in the context of this masochistic episode. Many of Bloom’s fantasies revolve around the most extreme punishments, in which he is utterly powerless and made a spectacle in front of many.

These punishment fantasies climax in the scene with Master Bello, in which Bloom imagines himself in two identities that have historically lacked power: as a slave and a woman. The point of this masochist fantasy is crystallized when the Sins of the Past “speak”, a moment for me that clarified why Bloom is punishing himself; he feels enormously guilty for his sexual deviance. Yet the pleasure of this masochist fantasy comes from, quite obviously, the extreme punishment that Bloom imagines, but also from Žižek’s concept of the terror of “radical agency” and the paradoxical freedom that it allows Bloom, through the nature of punishment itself. This desire is never articulated by Bloom, but through these masochist fantasies that he enacts, we can see that his desire to “return to nature as a purely domestic animal” (15.903) somewhat explains these extreme imagined punishments.

This episode featured an unusual format, in that it resembled a play, with each character’s speech being preceded by their name. This different formatting allowed for inanimate objects to have a “voice” as well, which was particularly interesting to my obsession of the unspoken, as these inanimate objects truly cannot speak.

Other than the moment where Stephen speaks to his hat and it replies, the other instances are usually objects that speak sort of nonsense sounds or nonsense words. The Bells say “haltyaltyaltyall” (15.181), which is later followed by The Soap singing “We’re a capital couple are Bloom and I. He brightens the earth. I polish the sky” (15.338-9). Almost all of the examples that I found seem to fall into these two categories; the objects either simply “spoke” a sound they were likely to make, or they said some short little nonsense sentence. The objects that said little phrases were far more interesting, but I was unable to discern a pattern from them.

Below are some more examples of inanimate objects speaking, specifically the second category I mentioned, where they say a short nonsensical phrase:

• The Wreaths: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of Sin (15.656)
• A Deadhand: (writes on the wall) Bloom is a cod (15.1871)
  • unsure if this actually might be a person?
• The Buckles: Love me. Love me not. Love me (15.2009)
• The Gramaphone:Jerusalem! Open your gates and sing Hosanna(15.2171-3)

Dogsbody

Forms: dogsbody

Related terms/ideas: Dogs, clothing, corpses, Kinch, Stephen Dedalus

Explication:

In Ulysses, the term only occurs five times, and only four in the reading we’ve done so far. The first time it is used condescendingly by Buck to describe Stephen, and the second occurs almost immediately after, when Stephen internalizes the term and refers to himself as a dogsbody. The final two instances occur in episode three as Stephen watches a dog sniff the carcass of another dog. Interestingly in this instance, the term is actually used to describe the body of the dead dog, and follows the terms “dogskull” and “dogsniff”. Thus in the first two instances, it is used in the denotative definition, but in the last two, it used like many of Joyce’s other combined words and literally means the body of a dog.

Buck uses this term to call attention to Stephen’s need of appropriate clothing and secondhand clothes, which seems to be an incorrect use of the word. A few passages later, Stephen looks in a mirror and seems slightly repulsed at his face, thinking “Who chose this face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin” (Joyce 3). He seems to internalize Buck’s insult, but again does not use the term in its dictionary definition. In Ulysses, “dogsbody” seems to be an insulting term for someone who appears to be of a lower class, a status which is marked by lack of fancy clothing and an association with pests.

Definitions:

1. n. nautical slang: Peas boiled in a cloth, pease pudding

2. n. sea biscuits softened in water, with sugar added.

3. n. a junior officer or midshipman

4. n. (colloquial) a person who is given menial tasks

5. v. to act or work as a dogsbody; to carry out menial tasks.

The color blue appears quite frequently in this chapter, but most prominently in its association with Gerty. We see the most concentrated mentions of the color in the early part of the chapter when both Gerty’s physical features and clothing are discussed by the unnamed narrator. Her eyes are described as “the bluest Irish blue” (Joyce 13.108), and her clothing is similarly all shades of blue, but perhaps the most interesting is that “[Gerty] was wearing the blue for luck” (Joyce 13.179) in the hopes of attracting the gaze of her interest, Reggy. It is this instance in which blue becomes most tied to her femininity and sexuality, and it is especially significant in relation to this episode’s theme of comfort, care, and refuge. A cursory Google search revealed that the color blue is always linked to tranquility, stress reduction, and calmness, which is what Bloom ultimately receives from his interaction with Gerty. These mentions of blue are most frequently associated with her eyes, her feminine clothing, or her tears, which we are told she practices by “cry[ing] nicely before the mirror” (Joyce 13); therefore blue becomes linked to a kind of performative, helpless femininity that seems to call to Bloom. This reveals that the color blue in this episode seems to be interestingly positioned as a calming influence to Bloom through its role in creating Gerty’s gentle sexuality and reciprocated interest, which is ultimately what Bloom derives the most comfort and relaxation from.

Having the obsession of the “unspoken” gives me slightly more wiggle room in choosing a topic than others, so today I focused on the odd italic lines in Episode 9 that are detached from the text both in physical form and in meaning. I struggled to find a unifying element in all these fragments (I did not find anything on the internet or in Ulysses Annotated), but according to Gifford’s Annotated, many of these fragments are the first line of a poetic stanza. But other than the poetic fragments being from first stanzas, most of the allusions seemed entirely unrelated; many are from unpublished poetic works, others are nursery rhymes or bawdy songs, and the episode closes with an allusion to Shakespeare’s Cymbeline.

Realizing these fragments seem unrelated in content and form, in addition to usually being unrelated to the text of Joyce that they follow, I wondered if they were meant to be completely random elements of literature that surround and fly through this complex, theoretical conversation that Stephen is having in the library. If that is their purpose, then they seem to undermine the conversation that occurs. John Eglinton, A.E., Lyster, and Stephen discuss canonical philosophers, poets, and playwrights in an incredibly complex way, yet that conversation is subverted by fragments of bawdy songs, poems from unpublished and unpopular poets, and common nursery rhymes. From this conclusion, it seems that while Joyce is clearly showing off his own classical knowledge and ability, he seems to be mocking that very decision by destabilizing these canonical authors with low class or literature for the masses.

Below I have included all the examples I looked at and a few short notes on each one.

“First he tickled her Then he patted her Then he passed the female catheter. For he was a medical Jolly old medi …”(9. 22-26)

-Bawdy fragment of unpublished poem

“Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood Tears such as angels weep. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta” (9. 32-34)

-Lines not from but echoing Paradise Lost: Satan laying on the lake of fire and about to speak angels

“Bound thee forth, my booklet, quick To greet the callous public. Writ, I ween, ‘twas not my wish In lean unlovely English” (9. 96-99)

-First stanza of an irish poem meant to be used as guide for ancient poetry but a form lost

“Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none

But we had spared …” (9. 137-138)

-From a controversial poem by Mr. Swinburne

“Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, Mananaan, Mananaan MacLir …” (9. 190-191)

-From a chant/druid curse that calls down a flood, brings end of days

“In quintessential triviality For years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt” (9. 287-288)

-Poem about the death of a child

“How many miles to Dublin? Three score and ten, sir. Will we be there by candlelight?” (9. 415-417)

-Old nursery rhyme

“What of all the will to do? It has vanished long ago …” (9. 798-799)

-Opening lines of first stanza of a poem written in 1926

“Laud we the gods And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless’d altars” (9. 1223-1225)

-End of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline