Joyce’s style shifts from alchemist prose to his tighter, trademark narrative throughout the chapter. The shift is indicative of so much-- It indicates the utilisation of two very different parts of the brain. While capable of writing traditionally, Joyce-- like Shakespeare, Nabokov or (what I determine to be) any great writer-- is able to change voices. There is his traditional voice, but there is also the ability to create atypical phrases that suggest the patterns of the subconscious thought found in dreams. There are is a parallel between the narrative and its author’s complexities, in this case.
Literary alchemy is a technique that seems to convey reality more thoroughly than a more focused, restrained narrative. So much occurs throughout a day; our perspectives and attitudes change. Thoughts aren't perfect or linear. However, sometimes there is perfection in complication and this is what we see with Joyce’s prose-- and, I think, the mind of a good artist.
Throughout the conversation that occurs in this chapter, we see some of the ways in which these characters change throughout the novel. Stephen is bright and articulate with those who he believes to be his intellectual superiors, but witty with those he considers less intelligent than he is, such as Bloom. Bloom is sexually conflicted and obssessed, but trying to posture as a successful adman in conversation, although his thoughts are elsewhere. However, he is able to recognize that Stephen is hungry and offers to buy him dinner.
Note: There is an intriguing power dynamic in this chapter. When Bloom talks about the prostitute in the black straw hat to Stephen, we notice that he criticizes the man who didn’t take care of her, yet it seems that Bloom is unable to take care of or control his own wife. Are his criticisms of women an example of misused power?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Subconsciousness
In this chapter, Bloom explores a dream state in which amalgams of his diurnal experiences appear to him. He doubts himself, as Hamlet did, in the beginning of the chapter, wishing he hadn’t bought the crubeen and the trotter.
He hallucinates, pictures an ex-girlfriend/Gerty, and imagines a fictional Gulliver’s Travels-like city in which he has ultimate control of the subjects.
If *Hamlet* has been described by a certain Russian emigre writer as the paranoid dream of a neurotic scholar, this chapter is Bloom’s paranoid dream.
Hamlet returns from Wittenberg, finds that the people around whom he came of age are inadequate and wonders if he may be an amalgam of their inadequacies. When he kills them, he attempts to eliminate the influences of their solipsisms on his life and free himself.
What is Bloom doing here? He, like Hamlet, is looking on the figures who influence him and imagining a world in which he has control-- in which he is not an amalgam of his early life experiences, can act freely--
Are we amalgams of our early experiences? If we are, can we learn to understand ourselves better by studying our subconscious desires, with their origins? How could we do so? And could we benefit from the study?
He hallucinates, pictures an ex-girlfriend/Gerty, and imagines a fictional Gulliver’s Travels-like city in which he has ultimate control of the subjects.
If *Hamlet* has been described by a certain Russian emigre writer as the paranoid dream of a neurotic scholar, this chapter is Bloom’s paranoid dream.
Hamlet returns from Wittenberg, finds that the people around whom he came of age are inadequate and wonders if he may be an amalgam of their inadequacies. When he kills them, he attempts to eliminate the influences of their solipsisms on his life and free himself.
What is Bloom doing here? He, like Hamlet, is looking on the figures who influence him and imagining a world in which he has control-- in which he is not an amalgam of his early life experiences, can act freely--
Are we amalgams of our early experiences? If we are, can we learn to understand ourselves better by studying our subconscious desires, with their origins? How could we do so? And could we benefit from the study?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Dreamspeak.
I got a lot of this chapter. I understood Joyce’s early allusion to the limitations of discourse, although I didn’t have the background in Medieval history to pick up on his parody.
A factor that inhibited my comprehension-- throughout the novel, as well as in this chapter-- was the character development; descriptions are sparse and rare. Many new characters are introduced without any description of their personalities and brought up suddenly. I’m learning to understand these characters by paying attention to the way that they speak-- their habits of speech, gestures... It’s more difficult, though, than it is with a narrator who gives us a lot of back story and detail.
Joyce’s characterizations are realistic; we don’t understand the subtext without the gesture or the speech of a character. We’re all sort of blank until we begin talking and gesturing, we begin to act, and our characters are revealed.
When I was reading the chapter, I thought a lot about the speech in dreams-- thwarted amalgams of sentences that are comprehensible to the dreamer but do not make logical sense upon waking.
Some of us dismiss these phrases we remember from our dreams. We try to quickly forget them, and make a cup of coffee before completing the set of tasks that begin the day. They don’t seem to coalesce with our sense of reality.
Nabokov suggested that dreams are mere amalgams of diurnal reality, but he also suggested that a dream sometimes will strike some chord with the dreamer in his waking life, as well as that it’s when “one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits.”
This is a chapter about a birth, and in it there are many drunken misinterpretations of language-- This makes me think of the birth of Bloom’s consciousness in the novel. He seems in many ways to be an actor, stepping into and our of character throughout the book, as though society doesn’t coalesce with his sense of reality; he struggles to keep up with the conversation, but falls into deep reveries during his long walks, in which he has thoughts that he can’t share. He is unable to notice things; he doesn’t notice Blazes when he passes in Hades, but stares at his hands instead. The mistaking of language suggests an inability to accept the constraints of society that are presented-- a literary technique that expertly conveys the waxing and waning of Bloom’s consciousness.
A factor that inhibited my comprehension-- throughout the novel, as well as in this chapter-- was the character development; descriptions are sparse and rare. Many new characters are introduced without any description of their personalities and brought up suddenly. I’m learning to understand these characters by paying attention to the way that they speak-- their habits of speech, gestures... It’s more difficult, though, than it is with a narrator who gives us a lot of back story and detail.
Joyce’s characterizations are realistic; we don’t understand the subtext without the gesture or the speech of a character. We’re all sort of blank until we begin talking and gesturing, we begin to act, and our characters are revealed.
When I was reading the chapter, I thought a lot about the speech in dreams-- thwarted amalgams of sentences that are comprehensible to the dreamer but do not make logical sense upon waking.
Some of us dismiss these phrases we remember from our dreams. We try to quickly forget them, and make a cup of coffee before completing the set of tasks that begin the day. They don’t seem to coalesce with our sense of reality.
Nabokov suggested that dreams are mere amalgams of diurnal reality, but he also suggested that a dream sometimes will strike some chord with the dreamer in his waking life, as well as that it’s when “one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits.”
This is a chapter about a birth, and in it there are many drunken misinterpretations of language-- This makes me think of the birth of Bloom’s consciousness in the novel. He seems in many ways to be an actor, stepping into and our of character throughout the book, as though society doesn’t coalesce with his sense of reality; he struggles to keep up with the conversation, but falls into deep reveries during his long walks, in which he has thoughts that he can’t share. He is unable to notice things; he doesn’t notice Blazes when he passes in Hades, but stares at his hands instead. The mistaking of language suggests an inability to accept the constraints of society that are presented-- a literary technique that expertly conveys the waxing and waning of Bloom’s consciousness.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Nausticaa
I’m struck by the ambiguity of Bloom’s feelings about his wife that Joyce leaves us with. I can’t decide if Bloom is attracted to her or not.
Much has been written in literature about the atypical seductress, particularly in Russian literature. While the round-faced woman with a ski jump nose and ringlets will always be idealized, sometimes we find that a different and darker kind of beauty is depicted with the candor and favoring tone that implies glorification. The first example that comes to mind is the water nymph in Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time, a plain girl who seduces the protagonist, Pechorin, and then tortures him.
I wonder if Bloom is attracted to Gerty because she is flawed. I wonder if he resents his wife for her beauty and the ways in which she exploits it, and seeks a plainer woman.
“Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show.”
This is the remark he makes to himself after he first notices Gerty’s lameness. Yet he is still tempted to masturbate.
However, I don’t think that we should assume that Bloom is attracted to his wife. I think it’s possible that he isn’t, that he’s repulsed by her poor taste and her heaviness. I think that he may be looking for a way out of his marriage, and disappointed at the limited options that surround him. I think he may take pleasure in Gerty’s weakness, because she represents, to him, the flawed nature of women that he implies throughout the novel.
Much has been written in literature about the atypical seductress, particularly in Russian literature. While the round-faced woman with a ski jump nose and ringlets will always be idealized, sometimes we find that a different and darker kind of beauty is depicted with the candor and favoring tone that implies glorification. The first example that comes to mind is the water nymph in Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time, a plain girl who seduces the protagonist, Pechorin, and then tortures him.
I wonder if Bloom is attracted to Gerty because she is flawed. I wonder if he resents his wife for her beauty and the ways in which she exploits it, and seeks a plainer woman.
“Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn’t know it when she was on show.”
This is the remark he makes to himself after he first notices Gerty’s lameness. Yet he is still tempted to masturbate.
However, I don’t think that we should assume that Bloom is attracted to his wife. I think it’s possible that he isn’t, that he’s repulsed by her poor taste and her heaviness. I think that he may be looking for a way out of his marriage, and disappointed at the limited options that surround him. I think he may take pleasure in Gerty’s weakness, because she represents, to him, the flawed nature of women that he implies throughout the novel.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Consciousness in "Cyclops"
In this chapter, we see that Bloom’s consciousness is at least one of the central themes.
I read the chapter differently than did the other students in the class; I felt that Joyce’s racing tangents were meant as an attempt to articulate the the sub-conscious. I did not think that the passage about the seance was satiric. (However, I am interested in the arguments to the contrary.)
I found that the subject of consciousness was addressed in the chapter. By giving us multiple perspectives on the transpiration of events and the histories or interpretations of them, Joyce managed to demonstrate the possibilities of human consciousness.
The brutalities that confronted Bloom were committed in disregard of his human consciousness-- Questions of his intellectual oppression could be applicable.
I think that the Cyclops could represent a myopic perspective, and the inhibition of consciousness as demonstrated by a brute society.
I read the chapter differently than did the other students in the class; I felt that Joyce’s racing tangents were meant as an attempt to articulate the the sub-conscious. I did not think that the passage about the seance was satiric. (However, I am interested in the arguments to the contrary.)
I found that the subject of consciousness was addressed in the chapter. By giving us multiple perspectives on the transpiration of events and the histories or interpretations of them, Joyce managed to demonstrate the possibilities of human consciousness.
The brutalities that confronted Bloom were committed in disregard of his human consciousness-- Questions of his intellectual oppression could be applicable.
I think that the Cyclops could represent a myopic perspective, and the inhibition of consciousness as demonstrated by a brute society.
Disparate Thoughts on Sexuality and Image, to be Resolved Later
In my last post I wrote about Bloom’s discerning, almost feminine eye...
I guess that could come across as vague...
In class, we’ve briefly alluded to his obssession with sexuality, yet we haven’t discussed it thoroughly. It is a complex subject, as well as one that I don’t feel I have the life experience to really go into in depth--
However, I do know what it is to be a high school student obssessed with fashion.
Bloom reminds me of a high school student obssessed with fashion.
Perhaps the most striking example of this comes when he discourses with his ex-girlfriend. He manages to maintain a somewhat intelligent conversation with her, yet throughout it he finds hiumself occupied with the estimation of the number of years in which she has worn her dress.
And later, throughout the book, he assesses and evaluates the attire of the men and women he encounters...
I don’t want to make the assumpton that the reader assumes the visual is sexual, but I do think that this is a question I would like to explore.
Fashion showcases the body, and Bloom is aware of this.
Throughout the novel, he notices the details of attire:
“Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode.”
“A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a faire, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and jingled.” 279
These are some examples of Bloom’s discerning eye that come to mind. He notices the cut of a dress, and the brand of a shoe; he notices the nuances of personal style that distinguish the women he evaluates-- the way they put themselves together.
His assessments are often read as misogynist by critics, but I think that this rings a bit hollow .
I think that, for Bloom, the image is sexual. I think that a certain aesthetic attracts him-- and I think that the look of his own wife repulses him; her weight is a point of contention with him.
“Got big then.”
He writes this in reminiscence of a concert that she missed because of her pregancy withg their son. I think that this observation is significant, in that it is singular; there is no parallel observation of a pre-natal weight gain that accompanied Milly’s birth, and so I think that this refers to a general weight gain that is unrelated to a pregnancy.
I think that Bloom’s attraction to his wife is predominantly physical, but not in a sexual way-- rather, I think that he is attached to her, but that she is more of a comfort to him than a provocation of sexual desire.
I guess that could come across as vague...
In class, we’ve briefly alluded to his obssession with sexuality, yet we haven’t discussed it thoroughly. It is a complex subject, as well as one that I don’t feel I have the life experience to really go into in depth--
However, I do know what it is to be a high school student obssessed with fashion.
Bloom reminds me of a high school student obssessed with fashion.
Perhaps the most striking example of this comes when he discourses with his ex-girlfriend. He manages to maintain a somewhat intelligent conversation with her, yet throughout it he finds hiumself occupied with the estimation of the number of years in which she has worn her dress.
And later, throughout the book, he assesses and evaluates the attire of the men and women he encounters...
I don’t want to make the assumpton that the reader assumes the visual is sexual, but I do think that this is a question I would like to explore.
Fashion showcases the body, and Bloom is aware of this.
Throughout the novel, he notices the details of attire:
“Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode.”
“A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a faire, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and jingled.” 279
These are some examples of Bloom’s discerning eye that come to mind. He notices the cut of a dress, and the brand of a shoe; he notices the nuances of personal style that distinguish the women he evaluates-- the way they put themselves together.
His assessments are often read as misogynist by critics, but I think that this rings a bit hollow .
I think that, for Bloom, the image is sexual. I think that a certain aesthetic attracts him-- and I think that the look of his own wife repulses him; her weight is a point of contention with him.
“Got big then.”
He writes this in reminiscence of a concert that she missed because of her pregancy withg their son. I think that this observation is significant, in that it is singular; there is no parallel observation of a pre-natal weight gain that accompanied Milly’s birth, and so I think that this refers to a general weight gain that is unrelated to a pregnancy.
I think that Bloom’s attraction to his wife is predominantly physical, but not in a sexual way-- rather, I think that he is attached to her, but that she is more of a comfort to him than a provocation of sexual desire.
Fubsiness and Fashion in Dublin, 1904
Not too many people are fubsy anymore and if they are, it’s kind of a good thing-- implying education, a prominent artistic career in the seventies, or at least well-read vegetarianism. Windblown hair and natty wool coats have been replaced by t-shirts printed with the phrase “sexy girl” and yellow/black higlights among the truly badly dressed today.
But in Dublin in the 1920’s, fubsy conveyed something else. It conveyed poverty-- Stockings that sagged around the ankles were not a charming detail of the quirky girl in ninth grade English, but instead implied a tight budget, and a pot of porridge for too many siblings in the delapidated house with a dirty front porch floor. It conveyed an inability to maintain an appearance, and to function in the present, implied inadequacy and difficulty...
Fubsiness still exists throughout the Isles today. The frumpy girls in Belle & Sebastian lyrics come to mind, for examples.
What is fubsy? Yellowing Pendleton coats, excessive knitwear, stains, spots, tears, obvious darning, nattiness...
Bloom notices fubsiness throughout the novel. His eye for style is almost feminine in its discretion.
But in Dublin in the 1920’s, fubsy conveyed something else. It conveyed poverty-- Stockings that sagged around the ankles were not a charming detail of the quirky girl in ninth grade English, but instead implied a tight budget, and a pot of porridge for too many siblings in the delapidated house with a dirty front porch floor. It conveyed an inability to maintain an appearance, and to function in the present, implied inadequacy and difficulty...
Fubsiness still exists throughout the Isles today. The frumpy girls in Belle & Sebastian lyrics come to mind, for examples.
What is fubsy? Yellowing Pendleton coats, excessive knitwear, stains, spots, tears, obvious darning, nattiness...
Bloom notices fubsiness throughout the novel. His eye for style is almost feminine in its discretion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)