(589.12-590.30) Now we reach the conclusion of Book III of Finnegans Wake. Pretty exciting, I'd say.
Yesterday, we left off with HCE raking in the dough. What did he do with his riches? Luke says that he crept around at night on the prowl. He lived out the age-old story, then: "Humbly to fall and cheaply to rise, exposition of failures." A succession of tragedies, which mirror stories from the Bible, befell him. For instance, he experienced Adam's fall: "First for a change of seven days license he wandered out of his farmer's health and so lost his early parishlife." He also went through a flood like Noah when "a main chanced to burst and misflooded his fortunes, wrothing foulplay over his fives' court and his fine poultryyard wherein were spared a just two of a feather in wading room only." The "crowning barleystraw" occurred "when an explosium of his distilleries deafdumped all his dry goods to his most favoured sinflute." Penniless, he hit rock bottom, "weeping worrybound on his bankrump." No one would give him a loan or pay any insurance money, for everyone believed him "a chameleon at last." "His reignbolt's shot," Luke says. "Never again!"
But this is not how we should ultimately judge HCE, argues Luke, as "the now nighs nearing as the yetst hies hin." There will be a new day for HCE, "our all honoured christmastyde easteredman."
Luke's conclusion leads directly into John's very brief "[f]ourth position of solution." John has the "[f]inest view from horizon" from which to present the "[t]ableau final." He sees HCE and ALP sleeping peacefully just before the imminent dawn. The four have worked the subject of HCE "to an inch of his core." In parting, John presents a final image of ALP as she "blesses her bliss for to feel her funnyman's functions."
The chapter ends, as McHugh notes, with the audience applauding the play that has been presented to us throughout this chapter: "Tiers, tiers and tiers. Rounds." It's not the most lyrical of the Wake's chapter endings, but it's suitably succinct in its recognition of our excitement for the book's final chapter.
Showing posts with label Book III Chapter 4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book III Chapter 4. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
"our hugest commercial emporialist"
(587.3-589.11) In the relative still of the night, Luke comes upon two more witnesses who can give information on HCE, an unnamed speaker and his "auxy," Jimmy d'Arcy. These two, who could be HCE's two sons, had "only our hazelight to see with" when the romantic action was happening a few pages ago. They watched as if they were in the theater -- here, "Theoatre Regal" -- peeping as they ate snacks like "nutty woodbines" and "cadbully's choculars." They knew HCE from when he joined them "in the snug at the Cambridge Arms of Teddy Ales," and the speaker notes that HCE was on good behavior there. (HCE's association with them reminds us that he, Shaun, and Shem together could also be another form of the three soldiers who accused HCE of the sin in the park.)
The speaker also tells us that ALP would call HCE (now also known as Fred Watkins) "Honeysuckler." He doesn't seem to buy the prevailing story about HCE in the park. He refers to the two young girls as "the waitresses, the daintylines, Elsies from Chelsies, the two legglegels in blooms" and the three soldiers as "those pest of parkies, twitch, thistle and charlock." The speaker implies that, contrary to the Lord's Prayer, the three soldiers weren't "for giving up their fogging tresspasses." He identifies the sleeping HCE, saying, "That's him wiv his wig on, achewing of his maple gum, that's our grainpopaw, Mister Beardall, an accompliced burgomaster, a great one among the very greatest, which he told us privates out of his own mouf he used to was." In closing, the speaker notes that even after the Cad came back, ALP would dance seductively for HCE and "pair her fiefighs fore him with just one curl."
Further up the river, near the "seepoint," Luke finds the three soldiers, "Mr Black Atkins" and the "tanapanny troopertwos." "[W]ere you there?" Luke asks. Did they see HCE defecating ("Number two coming! Full inside!") or urinating ("Mizpah low, youyou, number one, in deep humidity!") in the park? We don't really find out the answer to these questions, only that there were trees in the park like the ones by the sea, trees that doubled as great figures from Irish history (as noted by McHugh), such as "the barketree" (Edmund Burke) and "the o'corneltree" (Daniel O'Connell).
Luke closes today's reading by summarizing the story once again. There were two "pretty mistletots, ribboned to a tree," who were liberated by HCE. After this first fall from grace, four "missywives" followed suit, and eventually there were fifty couples and one hundred children. People became rich, and HCE "forged himself ahead like a blazing urbanorb, brewing treble to drown his three golden balls, making party capital out of landed self-interest, light on a slavey but weighty on the bourse, our hugest commercial emporialist, with his sons booing home from afar and his daughters bridiling up at his side."
The speaker also tells us that ALP would call HCE (now also known as Fred Watkins) "Honeysuckler." He doesn't seem to buy the prevailing story about HCE in the park. He refers to the two young girls as "the waitresses, the daintylines, Elsies from Chelsies, the two legglegels in blooms" and the three soldiers as "those pest of parkies, twitch, thistle and charlock." The speaker implies that, contrary to the Lord's Prayer, the three soldiers weren't "for giving up their fogging tresspasses." He identifies the sleeping HCE, saying, "That's him wiv his wig on, achewing of his maple gum, that's our grainpopaw, Mister Beardall, an accompliced burgomaster, a great one among the very greatest, which he told us privates out of his own mouf he used to was." In closing, the speaker notes that even after the Cad came back, ALP would dance seductively for HCE and "pair her fiefighs fore him with just one curl."
Further up the river, near the "seepoint," Luke finds the three soldiers, "Mr Black Atkins" and the "tanapanny troopertwos." "[W]ere you there?" Luke asks. Did they see HCE defecating ("Number two coming! Full inside!") or urinating ("Mizpah low, youyou, number one, in deep humidity!") in the park? We don't really find out the answer to these questions, only that there were trees in the park like the ones by the sea, trees that doubled as great figures from Irish history (as noted by McHugh), such as "the barketree" (Edmund Burke) and "the o'corneltree" (Daniel O'Connell).
Luke closes today's reading by summarizing the story once again. There were two "pretty mistletots, ribboned to a tree," who were liberated by HCE. After this first fall from grace, four "missywives" followed suit, and eventually there were fifty couples and one hundred children. People became rich, and HCE "forged himself ahead like a blazing urbanorb, brewing treble to drown his three golden balls, making party capital out of landed self-interest, light on a slavey but weighty on the bourse, our hugest commercial emporialist, with his sons booing home from afar and his daughters bridiling up at his side."
Monday, October 5, 2015
"Let each one learn to bore himself."
(585.22-587.2) (As an initial matter, this post, more than most, could bear an "Explicit Content" advisory, so be forewarned, reader.) Ok, so HCE and ALP's lovemaking didn't quite end during yesterday's reading. Today's passage begins with the two fully united, "whiskered beau and donahbella." "O yes! O yes!" we hear as the climax occurs. "Withdraw your member! Closure. This chamber stands abjourned. (McHugh notes that "chambre" is French slang for "cunt," so there you go.) As the two lovers return to their resting state, we see a much debated line: "You never wet the tea!" There seems to be a contingent (at least based upon what I've read in my secondary sources, which admittedly are more on the "vintage" side of things) that believes this is ALP saying that HCE never gets the job done. Tindall disagrees with this reading -- he says it means that HCE always wears a contraceptive (HCE's liquid/semen never wets/fertilizes ALP's teabag/egg) and I think I agree with him. There's a lot of language indicating that something is happening (the "O yes! O yes!" is a prime example), and Luke said that this event is "precedent" for population shortages in "Donnelly's orchard" and "Fairbrother's field."
Anyway, with all this excitement done, things begin to quiet down in the Earwicker household. A brief list of nighttime rules for those lodging at HCE's pub appears. "Others are as tired of themselves as you are," says Luke in a passage I like. "Let each one learn to bore himself." There will be no "cobsmoking, spitting, pubchat, wrastle rounds, coarse courting, smut etc" during "those hours so devoted to repose." And the lodgers should be careful about doing their own fornication, lest the maid will begin a gossip chain that will result in half the town knowing about it. "This is seriously meant," Luke says. "Here is a homelet, not a hothel."
And if the police officer -- who, as he walked by outside, could see the shadows of HCE and ALP in the windows as they were having sex -- were to walk by again, he would see no light shining in those windows. In fact, if he "brought his boots to pause in peace," he wouldn't hear a sound from the house, either. He would only hear the flow of the river, "telling him all, all about ham and livery, stay and toast ham in livery."
Anyway, with all this excitement done, things begin to quiet down in the Earwicker household. A brief list of nighttime rules for those lodging at HCE's pub appears. "Others are as tired of themselves as you are," says Luke in a passage I like. "Let each one learn to bore himself." There will be no "cobsmoking, spitting, pubchat, wrastle rounds, coarse courting, smut etc" during "those hours so devoted to repose." And the lodgers should be careful about doing their own fornication, lest the maid will begin a gossip chain that will result in half the town knowing about it. "This is seriously meant," Luke says. "Here is a homelet, not a hothel."
And if the police officer -- who, as he walked by outside, could see the shadows of HCE and ALP in the windows as they were having sex -- were to walk by again, he would see no light shining in those windows. In fact, if he "brought his boots to pause in peace," he wouldn't hear a sound from the house, either. He would only hear the flow of the river, "telling him all, all about ham and livery, stay and toast ham in livery."
Sunday, October 4, 2015
"How blame us?"
(583.26-585.21) Like the police officer at the end of yesterday's reading, we now join Luke in peeping at HCE and ALP as they enjoy marital relations through much of today's reading. As Luke describes the act (ALP has "a trumbly wick-in-her"), he draws frequent comparisons to cricket, which go right over my head. Without going into the gritty details, I'll note that the sex stuff is a little more straightforward and understandable. ALP gives her husband some instructions ("scorch her faster, faster") and warns HCE lest he break the condom ("burst his dunlops and waken her bornybarnies making his boobybabies"). Everything is interrupted (or perhaps brought to a climax -- it's unclear to me at this point) when the rooster crows.
The end of the reading finds Luke giving plentiful thanks for having been able to witness this moment. He now claims "exclusive pigtorial rights of herehear fond tiplady his weekreations," and those photos will be published in "next eon's issue of the Neptune's Centinel and Tritonville Lightowler," which have "the widest circulation round the whole universe." His expressions of thanks seem to blend into the rooster's crowing as Luke gives credit to everything from the lamp that lit the room ("modest Miss Glimglow") to the mattress in the bedroom ("neat Master Mettresson") and HCE's condom ("patient ringasend as prevenient"). All are called to "condeal" (congeal? condole?) with HCE, and all are asked to "kindly feel" for ALP at this time when "the dapplegray dawn drags nearing nigh for to wake all droners that drowse in Dublin." (We must be getting near the end of this chapter, and of the Wake, I'd say.)
The end of the reading finds Luke giving plentiful thanks for having been able to witness this moment. He now claims "exclusive pigtorial rights of herehear fond tiplady his weekreations," and those photos will be published in "next eon's issue of the Neptune's Centinel and Tritonville Lightowler," which have "the widest circulation round the whole universe." His expressions of thanks seem to blend into the rooster's crowing as Luke gives credit to everything from the lamp that lit the room ("modest Miss Glimglow") to the mattress in the bedroom ("neat Master Mettresson") and HCE's condom ("patient ringasend as prevenient"). All are called to "condeal" (congeal? condole?) with HCE, and all are asked to "kindly feel" for ALP at this time when "the dapplegray dawn drags nearing nigh for to wake all droners that drowse in Dublin." (We must be getting near the end of this chapter, and of the Wake, I'd say.)
Saturday, October 3, 2015
"We have to had them whether we'll like it or not."
(581.26-583.25) Despite the tragedy surrounding HCE, which Mark lamented yesterday, things might be made more amenable through the presence of Shaun (or Shem), the "another like that alter but not quite such anander and stillandbut one not all the selfsame and butstillone just the maim and encore emmerhim." HCE begot sons who will replace him, and for that Mark suggests that we offer "a snatchvote of thanksalot" to HCE, "the huskiest coaxing experimenter that ever gave his best hand into chancerisk." We should accordingly wish HCE and ALP a long life and the ability to "turn a deaf ear closshed" to their enemies, who will exist for all of eternity.
After all, Mark says, "We have to had them whether we'll like it or not." HCE and ALP are the universal parents, and we're stuck with them, just as Ireland is stuck with the invader's presence. Neither they nor us will be able to "escape life's high carnage of semperidentity," and we'll all eventually be staring straight at our respective demises. So, while we're here, we should sing a song (as Mark does in closing) to "Humpfrey, champion emir," who "holds his own."
At this point, we now take a look from the "[t]hird position of concord" (our third perspective in the chapter, after Matthew's first position of harmony and Mark's second position of discordance). The pattern of the chapter suggests that Luke presents this view, which he describes by saying, "Excellent view from the front." Since this is the straight-on view of concord, and since this book was written by Joyce, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that, as we gaze at HCE "now in momentum," we see him engaging in sexual intercourse with ALP. Luke approves, saying, "By the queer quick twist of her mobcap and the lift of her shift at random and the rate of her gate of going the pace, two thinks at a time, her country I'm proud of." Isabel (the "datter") "sleeps in peace," and Shem and Shaun (the "twillingsons") "turn in trot" (turn and toss in bed), but HCE and ALP -- "pairamere" (equivalent to the French for father and mother) -- "goes it a gallop, a gallop." The petite ALP is described in this passage as a moon orbiting HCE's Jupiter ("juniper"). Their shadows can be seen outside of the house by "the park's police" who "peels peering by."
After all, Mark says, "We have to had them whether we'll like it or not." HCE and ALP are the universal parents, and we're stuck with them, just as Ireland is stuck with the invader's presence. Neither they nor us will be able to "escape life's high carnage of semperidentity," and we'll all eventually be staring straight at our respective demises. So, while we're here, we should sing a song (as Mark does in closing) to "Humpfrey, champion emir," who "holds his own."
At this point, we now take a look from the "[t]hird position of concord" (our third perspective in the chapter, after Matthew's first position of harmony and Mark's second position of discordance). The pattern of the chapter suggests that Luke presents this view, which he describes by saying, "Excellent view from the front." Since this is the straight-on view of concord, and since this book was written by Joyce, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that, as we gaze at HCE "now in momentum," we see him engaging in sexual intercourse with ALP. Luke approves, saying, "By the queer quick twist of her mobcap and the lift of her shift at random and the rate of her gate of going the pace, two thinks at a time, her country I'm proud of." Isabel (the "datter") "sleeps in peace," and Shem and Shaun (the "twillingsons") "turn in trot" (turn and toss in bed), but HCE and ALP -- "pairamere" (equivalent to the French for father and mother) -- "goes it a gallop, a gallop." The petite ALP is described in this passage as a moon orbiting HCE's Jupiter ("juniper"). Their shadows can be seen outside of the house by "the park's police" who "peels peering by."
Friday, October 2, 2015
"I'm sorry to say I saw!"
(579.26-581.25) "Now their laws assist them and ease their fall!" proclaims Mark at the beginning of today's passage. We've seen the good side of HCE and ALP, so it's only fitting that we see some bad now. After they "met and mated and bedded and bucked and got and gave and reared and raised," the couple caused some damage to Ireland, at least according to Mark, who says that they also "planted and plundered and pawned our souls and pillaged the pounds of the extramurals and fought and feigned with strained relations and bequeathed us their ills," and so on. This passage (and all of today's reading) is on the straightforward end of the Wake spectrum, and one can tell that Joyce had a delightful time in putting together its top-notch, lively, sing-song language.
The couple will wreak havoc, but "bullseaboob and rivishy divil" will rise again and again, until "the book of dates he close." Even then, Isabel -- "gentle Isad Ysut" -- will call "to Finnegan, to sin again and to make grim grandma grunt and grin again while the first grey streaks steal silvering by for to mock their quarrels in dollymount tumbling." For now, they rest in their room "near the base of the chill stair" in HCE's "hydrocomic establishment." ALP, "his ambling limfy peepingpartner" is "the slave of the ring" who, Mark argues, will ultimately set in motion the chain of events that will result in everyone buying into "the ballad that Hosty made."
But the public was ready to buy into that ballad anyhow, Mark says. At every "mock indignation meeting" (there seems to be a lot of those happening nowadays), one could hear "vehmen's vengeance vective vollying" as HCE was called an invader and outlander. As they "hauled home with their hogsheads" from HCE's pub, the meeting attendees would roar, "[F]ree boose for the man from the nark, sure, he never was worth a cornerwall fark, and his banishee's bedpan she's a quareold bite of a tark."
Mark sounds a bit guilty for the hatred that has grown for HCE, "the yet unregendered thunderslog," whom ALP has had to drop into a hiding hole. "Ah, dearo!" Mark says. "Dearo, dear!" All of this was caused by the four old men ("the carryfour"), the three soldiers ("the trivials"), the two young women ("their bivouac") and HCE ("his monomyth"). Mark ends today's passage with sincere regret: "Ah ho! Say no more about it! I'm sorry! I saw. I'm sorry! I'm sorry to say I saw!"
The couple will wreak havoc, but "bullseaboob and rivishy divil" will rise again and again, until "the book of dates he close." Even then, Isabel -- "gentle Isad Ysut" -- will call "to Finnegan, to sin again and to make grim grandma grunt and grin again while the first grey streaks steal silvering by for to mock their quarrels in dollymount tumbling." For now, they rest in their room "near the base of the chill stair" in HCE's "hydrocomic establishment." ALP, "his ambling limfy peepingpartner" is "the slave of the ring" who, Mark argues, will ultimately set in motion the chain of events that will result in everyone buying into "the ballad that Hosty made."
But the public was ready to buy into that ballad anyhow, Mark says. At every "mock indignation meeting" (there seems to be a lot of those happening nowadays), one could hear "vehmen's vengeance vective vollying" as HCE was called an invader and outlander. As they "hauled home with their hogsheads" from HCE's pub, the meeting attendees would roar, "[F]ree boose for the man from the nark, sure, he never was worth a cornerwall fark, and his banishee's bedpan she's a quareold bite of a tark."
Mark sounds a bit guilty for the hatred that has grown for HCE, "the yet unregendered thunderslog," whom ALP has had to drop into a hiding hole. "Ah, dearo!" Mark says. "Dearo, dear!" All of this was caused by the four old men ("the carryfour"), the three soldiers ("the trivials"), the two young women ("their bivouac") and HCE ("his monomyth"). Mark ends today's passage with sincere regret: "Ah ho! Say no more about it! I'm sorry! I saw. I'm sorry! I'm sorry to say I saw!"
Thursday, October 1, 2015
"Herenow chuck english and learn to pray plain."
(577.36-579.25) We've got a fun (and fairly straightforward) passage today. We begin with one of the parents wondering whether one of the children, presumably Jerry, is stirring. He's fast asleep, though, and the sound was "only the wind on the road outside for to wake all shivering shanks from snorring."
The next two paragraphs identify HCE and ALP. HCE, "Misthra Norkmann that keeps our hotel," is in his nightclothes. "Hecklar's champion ethnicist," Mark calls him. "He's the dibbles own doges for doublin existents!" notes Mark, highlighting the Dubliner's multiple iterations. "But a jolly fine daysent form of one word. He's rounding up on his family." ALP is the "bodikin by him." Mark calls her "missness wipethemdry," calling back to the way she soothed the crying Jerry earlier in the chapter.
They're on a marriage journey together and currently returning from "their diamond wedding tour," moving "under talls and threading tormentors, shunning the startraps and slipping in sliders, risking a runway, ruing reveals, from Elder Arbor to La Puirée, eskipping the clockback, crystal in carbon, sweetheartedly." The remainder of the passage consists of a list of entertaining items, which Campbell and Robinson fittingly term "slogans." I imagine these slogans could be posted in HCE's pub. A couple of my favorites are:
The final slogan, which ends today's reading, is another memorable one: "Let earwigger's wivable teach you the dance!"
The next two paragraphs identify HCE and ALP. HCE, "Misthra Norkmann that keeps our hotel," is in his nightclothes. "Hecklar's champion ethnicist," Mark calls him. "He's the dibbles own doges for doublin existents!" notes Mark, highlighting the Dubliner's multiple iterations. "But a jolly fine daysent form of one word. He's rounding up on his family." ALP is the "bodikin by him." Mark calls her "missness wipethemdry," calling back to the way she soothed the crying Jerry earlier in the chapter.
They're on a marriage journey together and currently returning from "their diamond wedding tour," moving "under talls and threading tormentors, shunning the startraps and slipping in sliders, risking a runway, ruing reveals, from Elder Arbor to La Puirée, eskipping the clockback, crystal in carbon, sweetheartedly." The remainder of the passage consists of a list of entertaining items, which Campbell and Robinson fittingly term "slogans." I imagine these slogans could be posted in HCE's pub. A couple of my favorites are:
- "Hot and cold and electrickery with attendance and lounge and promenade free."
- "Mind the Monks and their Grasps."
- "Hatenot havenots."
- "My time is on draught. Bottle your own."
The final slogan, which ends today's reading, is another memorable one: "Let earwigger's wivable teach you the dance!"
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
"To bed."
(576.10-577.35) After two days of readings that were fairly unique within the Wake, we move back toward more "conventional" material today. The passage begins with a voice saying, "He sighed in sleep." Another replies, "Let us go back." A third (or is it the first?) says, "Lest he forewaken." And finally, we hear, "Hide ourselves." This bit of dialogue presents a characteristically Wakeian problem: Who's speaking? If you believe the parents are still outside of the twins' room, this is HCE and ALP saying they should go back to their own room before Jerry begins to cry again. If you believe the children are spying on their parents, this is Shaun, Shem, and Isabel hearing HCE sigh and deciding to get back to their rooms before HCE wakes (again). Of course, it could also be the four peeping old men (whose dialogue often appears in bursts of four short statements), or it could be any combination of these. Regardless, after a brief wish (asking that "hovering dreamwings, folding around, will hide from fears my wee mee mannikin, keep my big wig long strong manomen, guard my bairn, mon beau" -- this is HCE's desire that he, his wife, and his children will be protected in sleep), a voice says, "To bed."
The remainder of the passage consists of a prayer (to "Prospector projector and boomooster giant builder of all causeways woesoever") requesting guidance and protection for HCE and ALP. If you think the children were spying on their parents, this could be the children saying their prayers before going to bed. It could also be HCE praying for himself and his wife.
I won't summarize the prayer here. It's fairly straightforward on its own. I do like the various titles given for HCE and ALP, such as "boniface and bonnyfeatures" and "humpered and elf." I also like that one of the specific requests is for God to "guide them through the labyrinth of their samilikes and the alteregoases of their pseudoselves," since this is sort of what we're asking for as we read through the Wake and come across the many alter egos and pseudoselves of HCE, ALP, and family. Finally, it's cool how another of the requests incorporates, as McHugh notes, Vico's cycle, as well as the structure of the Wake itself: "that he may dishcover her, that she may uncouple him, that one may come and crumple them, that they may soon recoup themselves: now and then, time on time again, as per periodicity."
The remainder of the passage consists of a prayer (to "Prospector projector and boomooster giant builder of all causeways woesoever") requesting guidance and protection for HCE and ALP. If you think the children were spying on their parents, this could be the children saying their prayers before going to bed. It could also be HCE praying for himself and his wife.
I won't summarize the prayer here. It's fairly straightforward on its own. I do like the various titles given for HCE and ALP, such as "boniface and bonnyfeatures" and "humpered and elf." I also like that one of the specific requests is for God to "guide them through the labyrinth of their samilikes and the alteregoases of their pseudoselves," since this is sort of what we're asking for as we read through the Wake and come across the many alter egos and pseudoselves of HCE, ALP, and family. Finally, it's cool how another of the requests incorporates, as McHugh notes, Vico's cycle, as well as the structure of the Wake itself: "that he may dishcover her, that she may uncouple him, that one may come and crumple them, that they may soon recoup themselves: now and then, time on time again, as per periodicity."
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
"And whew whewwhew whew."
(573.33-576.9) I went slightly over in excerpt length today, mostly on account of the fact that there's a sentence about 23 lines (or two-thirds of a page) long at the end of this passage. This also allows me to end today's reading at the end of a paragraph and has the added bonus of shortening tomorrow's reading.
But what a doozy today's reading is. Now I can understand a little better why Campbell and Robinson call this five-page section the most complicated in the book. (I'll add that it's among the most interesting, challenging, and entertaining sections as well.) The passage for today is steeped in legalese, and the references are more obscure than in yesterday's reading. The hegemony/submission question of yesterday seems to have been a cliffhanger that will go unanswered (at least for now), and what we have today is a legal dispute regarding "the goods of Cape and Chattertone, deceased." The case, Mark tells us, "is perhaps the commonest of all cases arising out of umbrella history in connection with the wood industries in our courts of litigation." My hunch is that on one level it's about how ALP tries to pay for the costs of HCE's funeral (here, the "wood industries" refers to the coffin).
We start with a maxim that seems to make enough sense: "so long as there is a joint deposit account in the two names a mutual obligation is posited." So, it would seem that if there wasn't enough money in the joint account held by HCE and ALP, ALP would be obligated to make up the shortage and any associated fees occasioned by her tendering a bad check. The next two pages might make your head spin as you question that simple explanation.
Campbell and Robinson suggest that this passage moves from a discussion of the couple's finances and "quickly opens out into a review of the history of Christianity in the British Isles, particularly since the days of Henry VIII (Hal Kilbride) and the Counter Reformation." I won't dwell on the religious aspect too much right now, but in this reading, ALP -- here "Ann Doyle" -- is a junior partner of the Roman Catholic church, which owes money to a rival firm, the Anglican church. It's clear that tithes were due to "the heathen church emergency fund" (note those HCE initials), and that Tangos, Limited (the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Catholic church) asserts as its defense that it made full payment of the amount due. The fund counterclaimed that payment was invalid because it was signed by the senior partner of Tangos, who is now missing and presumed dead (he's "entered into an ancient moratorium"). The bank declined to cash the check, which the fund trustee negotiated to a third party and is now in the hands of Pango, a "rival concern" of Tangos (and the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Anglican church).
At trial, the jury couldn't reach a verdict, and the judge "went outside his jurisfiction altogether" and essentially ordered that Pango ("the neutral firm") is liable for the debt, and so it's natural that Pango wants Tangos to pay up. As I noted before, the senior partner who signed the check has gone missing and was therefore unable to testify. Instead, the junior partner, Ann Doyle (who was originally a member of the jury . . . and originally presumed to be a man) took the stand. She proposed to settle the dispute by merging (both corporately and physically) with Pango. (If we follow my funeral expenses theory, this would be ALP trying to pay for the funeral by marrying the man to whom she's in debt.)
The settlement arrangement was overruled by an appellate judge, who reversed the decision of the trial judge and jury of "judaces" (presumably approving the settlement) and held that, since ALP was actually a slave and had no legal rights, and since the senior partner is presumed dead and "no property at law can exist in a corpse," there could be no settlement agreement between ALP and Pango ("Pepigi's pact was pure piffle"). The conclusion? "Wharrem would whistle for the rhino." (Whatever that means. McHugh identifies "rhino" as slang for "money," so perhaps the right to collect on the debt will go up for auction?)
In their Skeleton Key, Campbell and Robinson offer a summary of this passage's meaning: "Not only romantic love but also Christian faith is snarled, knotted, and exhausted. All the wires have been so crossed that there is no clean flow any more, either of natural or supernatural energy." That works for me. I'll also offer this: Yesterday's reading dealt with the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of HCE's subconscious (i.e., How can I function in society given my constant and all-consuming lust and love?), and today's reading deals with the what HCE presumes are the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of ALP's subconscious (i.e., Who will replace my husband with when he's gone?).
But what a doozy today's reading is. Now I can understand a little better why Campbell and Robinson call this five-page section the most complicated in the book. (I'll add that it's among the most interesting, challenging, and entertaining sections as well.) The passage for today is steeped in legalese, and the references are more obscure than in yesterday's reading. The hegemony/submission question of yesterday seems to have been a cliffhanger that will go unanswered (at least for now), and what we have today is a legal dispute regarding "the goods of Cape and Chattertone, deceased." The case, Mark tells us, "is perhaps the commonest of all cases arising out of umbrella history in connection with the wood industries in our courts of litigation." My hunch is that on one level it's about how ALP tries to pay for the costs of HCE's funeral (here, the "wood industries" refers to the coffin).
We start with a maxim that seems to make enough sense: "so long as there is a joint deposit account in the two names a mutual obligation is posited." So, it would seem that if there wasn't enough money in the joint account held by HCE and ALP, ALP would be obligated to make up the shortage and any associated fees occasioned by her tendering a bad check. The next two pages might make your head spin as you question that simple explanation.
Campbell and Robinson suggest that this passage moves from a discussion of the couple's finances and "quickly opens out into a review of the history of Christianity in the British Isles, particularly since the days of Henry VIII (Hal Kilbride) and the Counter Reformation." I won't dwell on the religious aspect too much right now, but in this reading, ALP -- here "Ann Doyle" -- is a junior partner of the Roman Catholic church, which owes money to a rival firm, the Anglican church. It's clear that tithes were due to "the heathen church emergency fund" (note those HCE initials), and that Tangos, Limited (the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Catholic church) asserts as its defense that it made full payment of the amount due. The fund counterclaimed that payment was invalid because it was signed by the senior partner of Tangos, who is now missing and presumed dead (he's "entered into an ancient moratorium"). The bank declined to cash the check, which the fund trustee negotiated to a third party and is now in the hands of Pango, a "rival concern" of Tangos (and the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Anglican church).
At trial, the jury couldn't reach a verdict, and the judge "went outside his jurisfiction altogether" and essentially ordered that Pango ("the neutral firm") is liable for the debt, and so it's natural that Pango wants Tangos to pay up. As I noted before, the senior partner who signed the check has gone missing and was therefore unable to testify. Instead, the junior partner, Ann Doyle (who was originally a member of the jury . . . and originally presumed to be a man) took the stand. She proposed to settle the dispute by merging (both corporately and physically) with Pango. (If we follow my funeral expenses theory, this would be ALP trying to pay for the funeral by marrying the man to whom she's in debt.)
The settlement arrangement was overruled by an appellate judge, who reversed the decision of the trial judge and jury of "judaces" (presumably approving the settlement) and held that, since ALP was actually a slave and had no legal rights, and since the senior partner is presumed dead and "no property at law can exist in a corpse," there could be no settlement agreement between ALP and Pango ("Pepigi's pact was pure piffle"). The conclusion? "Wharrem would whistle for the rhino." (Whatever that means. McHugh identifies "rhino" as slang for "money," so perhaps the right to collect on the debt will go up for auction?)
In their Skeleton Key, Campbell and Robinson offer a summary of this passage's meaning: "Not only romantic love but also Christian faith is snarled, knotted, and exhausted. All the wires have been so crossed that there is no clean flow any more, either of natural or supernatural energy." That works for me. I'll also offer this: Yesterday's reading dealt with the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of HCE's subconscious (i.e., How can I function in society given my constant and all-consuming lust and love?), and today's reading deals with the what HCE presumes are the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of ALP's subconscious (i.e., Who will replace my husband with when he's gone?).
Monday, September 28, 2015
"shall she submit?"
(571.27-573.32) After remarking on HCE's noisy coughs in yesterday's reading, one of the children notes that HCE perhaps is asleep: "He is quieter now." (This could also be HCE remarking to ALP that Jerry has gotten over his nightmare and quieted down.) If it's the children outside of the parents' room, they hear a noise in the parents' room and wait to listen. If it's HCE and ALP outside of the twins' room, they hear a noise in that room and wait to listen: "Wait! Hist! Let us list!" Mark explains that the young generation will knock off the old and take control, with the children "trowelling a gravetrench for their fourinhand forebears."
Regardless of where the parents are at (in their room being spied upon by the children, or outside of the twins' room), they now realize something is amiss. The door of Buttercup/Isabel is open. What could be happening?
"Let us consider," Mark says. This introduces an extended passage, presented (at least initially) by attorney Interrogarius Mealterum, which Campbell and Robinson call "probably the strangest and most complicated in the book." Essentially, it's a summary of the sexual intrigues that could be arise if all of the thoughts or desires lurking deep within each family member's subconscious were to be acted upon, presented in the form of a legal brief. Campbell and Robinson write, "One is struck with horror that such matters can be discussed in the boring terminology of everyday legal experience, and that this phraseology, and the social attitude it covers, should be the most characteristic expression of our time." I haven't found the beginning of the passage particularly complicated (in comparison to many other parts of the Wake), but my lack of confusion might arise from my background in law (a lot of what I read at my job doesn't sound too far off from this). I think that Tindall does a good job describing what makes it so successful:
If you're looking for a taste of the Wake to see Joyce at his best, mark this passage down as one to check out.
Regardless of where the parents are at (in their room being spied upon by the children, or outside of the twins' room), they now realize something is amiss. The door of Buttercup/Isabel is open. What could be happening?
"Let us consider," Mark says. This introduces an extended passage, presented (at least initially) by attorney Interrogarius Mealterum, which Campbell and Robinson call "probably the strangest and most complicated in the book." Essentially, it's a summary of the sexual intrigues that could be arise if all of the thoughts or desires lurking deep within each family member's subconscious were to be acted upon, presented in the form of a legal brief. Campbell and Robinson write, "One is struck with horror that such matters can be discussed in the boring terminology of everyday legal experience, and that this phraseology, and the social attitude it covers, should be the most characteristic expression of our time." I haven't found the beginning of the passage particularly complicated (in comparison to many other parts of the Wake), but my lack of confusion might arise from my background in law (a lot of what I read at my job doesn't sound too far off from this). I think that Tindall does a good job describing what makes it so successful:
The clarity of this abstract, emerging from the darkness of dream around it, insures the effect. Recoiling in horror from man's humanity to man, we laugh; for this amorous confusion is an example of what Ruskin, a better definer than Webster, called the grotesque, a kind of art, he said, that combines the frightful and the funny.Joyce was at his best when writing this passage (which begins on page 572, line 18), and it really doesn't lend itself to any kind of summary. It concerns the family and their close associates, here given Roman names (for example: Honuphrius (HCE), Anita (ALP), Eugenius (Shaun/Kevin), Jeremias (Shem/Jerry), Felicia (Isabel), and Fortissa (Kate). Honuphrius has engaged in any number of extramarital affairs (including, it's alleged, incestual ones with his children), and he has set in motion a plan to have Anita commit adultery as well. Anita, like most of the other adult figures, has engaged in adultery herself, and any number of love triangles can be traced. Anita is primarily concerned with preserving the virginity and honor of her daughter, Felicia, but she fears "reprehensible conduct" between the sons if she is successful in doing so (it's hinted that the brothers' incestual urge could be turned toward each other if they're shut off from Felicia). Today's reading ends on a cliffhanger: "Has he hegemony and shall she submit?"
If you're looking for a taste of the Wake to see Joyce at his best, mark this passage down as one to check out.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
"Vouchsafe me more soundpicture!"
(569.17-571.26) As today's passage begins, a priest, "Monsigneur of Deublan," blesses the crowd and begins a great feast. All sorts of food is available: chicken, pigeon, rabbit, pheasant, trout, salmon, sturgeon, capon, and lobsters, to name a handful. In the midst of the feast, songs are sung to honor the king and, presumably, HCE: "Old Finncoole, he's a mellow old saoul when he swills his fuddlers free! Poppop array! For we're all jollygame fellhellows which nobottle can deny!" Soon actors are called for. Among the plays proposed are "two genitalmen of Veruno" (Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona) and "all for love of fair pentient" (Dryden's All for Love). After a few fine performances, which draw shouts of "Bravose!" and "Bravossimost!," a moment of silence is called for: "The royal nusick their show shall shut with songslide to nature's solemn silence." Numerous dances follow, causing Mark to remark, "Some wholetime in hot town tonight!" This glorious day should be coming soon, he adds, "but it is never here that one today." (Campbell and Robinson suggest that this scene of HCE's triumph suggests the anticipatory euphoria of foreplay experienced by HCE in bed with his wife, which makes some sense to me.)
All this talk prompts one of the listeners to ask Mark questions about HCE. Is he ever in ill health? No, he's "exceedingly herculeneous" (I'm reading this as like Hercules). "One sees how he is lot stoutlier than of formerly," says Mark, before comparing HCE to Abraham. "One would say him to hold whole a litteringture of kidlings under his aphroham." Has he been married for long? Yes, "ever since so long time in Hurtleforth." He has "two fine mac sons" that, when combined, form a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts: "a superfine mick want they mack metween them." Someone asks Mark why he's leering again. "I am not leering, I pink you pardons," he replies. "I am highly sheshe sherious."
At this point, a subtle shift seems to occur, but it's possible we've been shifting all along. Mark, who may now be one of the sons, asks, "Do you not must want to go somewhere on the present?" It becomes apparent as the paragraph proceeds that the "somewhere" is the toilet, for someone has to urinate (they take a walk "till the number one"). The dialogue continues as they pass through the hall, indicating that Kevin and Jerry, who have been spying on their parents, are walking through the house to the "littleeasechapel" (or bathroom). They look at pictures on the wall depicting war and nature, and eventually they seem to be joined by Isabel. As one boy uses the facilities, the other speaks with her about her "lifesighs . . . after that swollen one" (HCE). Isabel replies, "I am not sighing, I assure, but only I am soso sorry about all in my saarasplace." As the reading for today comes to an end, one of the children remarks on the parents, whose noises keep the children constantly aware of their presence in the house: "Always I am hearing them. Horsehem coughs enough. Annshee lispes privily."
All this talk prompts one of the listeners to ask Mark questions about HCE. Is he ever in ill health? No, he's "exceedingly herculeneous" (I'm reading this as like Hercules). "One sees how he is lot stoutlier than of formerly," says Mark, before comparing HCE to Abraham. "One would say him to hold whole a litteringture of kidlings under his aphroham." Has he been married for long? Yes, "ever since so long time in Hurtleforth." He has "two fine mac sons" that, when combined, form a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts: "a superfine mick want they mack metween them." Someone asks Mark why he's leering again. "I am not leering, I pink you pardons," he replies. "I am highly sheshe sherious."
At this point, a subtle shift seems to occur, but it's possible we've been shifting all along. Mark, who may now be one of the sons, asks, "Do you not must want to go somewhere on the present?" It becomes apparent as the paragraph proceeds that the "somewhere" is the toilet, for someone has to urinate (they take a walk "till the number one"). The dialogue continues as they pass through the hall, indicating that Kevin and Jerry, who have been spying on their parents, are walking through the house to the "littleeasechapel" (or bathroom). They look at pictures on the wall depicting war and nature, and eventually they seem to be joined by Isabel. As one boy uses the facilities, the other speaks with her about her "lifesighs . . . after that swollen one" (HCE). Isabel replies, "I am not sighing, I assure, but only I am soso sorry about all in my saarasplace." As the reading for today comes to an end, one of the children remarks on the parents, whose noises keep the children constantly aware of their presence in the house: "Always I am hearing them. Horsehem coughs enough. Annshee lispes privily."
Saturday, September 26, 2015
"Alla tingaling pealabells!"
(567.13-569.17) Today's passage was perhaps the toughest one I've encountered in this chapter. We begin with news that the queen will be sending her liege to lead the nobles on a fox hunt. This must be big news, and a big event, for everyone wants to be there. "Yet if I durst to express the hope how I might be able to be present," Mark says. The roads and rails will be jammed with travelers: "All these peeplers entrammed and detrained on bikeygels and troykakyls and those puny farting little solitires! Tollacre, tollacre!"
In preparation for the occasion, the twins will make peace: "Britus and Gothius shall no more joustle for that sonneplace but mark one autonement." The royal envoy's impending visit won't be the reason for that peace, though. Instead, it will come about by Isabel's tears. "It is how sweet from her, the wispful, and they are soon seen swopsib so a sautril as a meise," Mark says.
But these events pale in comparison to the arrival of the king, and his reception of HCE. HCE -- "our boorgomaister, thon staunch Thorsman" -- will get dressed up in his best clothes for the king's arrival and stand among the throng of people, "restrained by chain of hands." He will "receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion." McHugh notes that this mirrors the reception that Abraham Bradley King, then Lord Mayor of Dublin, gave to King George IV (he gave him a key to the city and was knighted on the spot), but I also read this as Mark saying HCE will greet the king with a kiss on the ol' arse. Flattered by HCE's welcome, the king will single him out: "Arise, sir Pompkey Dompkey! Ear! Ear! Weaker!" HCE will read a speech to the king (consisting of the Greek alphabet), and the king will make lewd remarks to the ladies on the balconies. And church bells throughout Dublin's city center and four corners will ring out in celebration of the moment.
I admit that I'm a bit confused (at least for the moment) how we got from HCE's "pole" in yesterday's reading to this royal visit. Perhaps it will become clear tomorrow.
In preparation for the occasion, the twins will make peace: "Britus and Gothius shall no more joustle for that sonneplace but mark one autonement." The royal envoy's impending visit won't be the reason for that peace, though. Instead, it will come about by Isabel's tears. "It is how sweet from her, the wispful, and they are soon seen swopsib so a sautril as a meise," Mark says.
But these events pale in comparison to the arrival of the king, and his reception of HCE. HCE -- "our boorgomaister, thon staunch Thorsman" -- will get dressed up in his best clothes for the king's arrival and stand among the throng of people, "restrained by chain of hands." He will "receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion." McHugh notes that this mirrors the reception that Abraham Bradley King, then Lord Mayor of Dublin, gave to King George IV (he gave him a key to the city and was knighted on the spot), but I also read this as Mark saying HCE will greet the king with a kiss on the ol' arse. Flattered by HCE's welcome, the king will single him out: "Arise, sir Pompkey Dompkey! Ear! Ear! Weaker!" HCE will read a speech to the king (consisting of the Greek alphabet), and the king will make lewd remarks to the ladies on the balconies. And church bells throughout Dublin's city center and four corners will ring out in celebration of the moment.
I admit that I'm a bit confused (at least for the moment) how we got from HCE's "pole" in yesterday's reading to this royal visit. Perhaps it will become clear tomorrow.
Friday, September 25, 2015
"The court to go into half morning."
(565.6-567.13) We left off in yesterday's reading with Mark focusing on HCE's behind. In today's reading, we move past that. ALP, who stands in front of HCE and closest to the twins, the sleeping Kevin and the crying Jerry, begins to comfort her trembling son. As thunder roars in the air, ALP tells Jerry he's only had a nightmare: "You were dreamend, dear." There is no panther or phantom in the room, she says. Nor, she adds, is there a "bad bold faathern," which is maybe a white lie, since HCE is standing behind her. "Opop opop capallo," she says, trying to cheer him up, and she goes on to tell him that his father will be taking the "lucky load to Lublin" tomorrow to do his business. "Sonly all in your imagination, dim," she says. She ends her comforting with a line that tells him the nightmares will wash away once morning has arrived and beautifully ties together the river and dream themes that run throughout the Wake: "While elvery stream winds seling on for to keep this barrel of bounty rolling and the nightmail afarfrom morning nears."
A transition that sounds just like a commercial break follows. "When you're coaching through Lucalised, on the sulphur spa to visit, it's safer to hit than miss it, stop at his inn!" the commercial voice tells us. It's quite clearly an ad for HCE's pub, where, we learn, we can doze in warmth and enjoy food and drink of questionable quality: "Cried unions to chip, saltpetre to strew, gallpitch to drink, stonebread to break but it's bully to gulp good blueberry pudding."
Following the interruption, the scene resumes back in the "sleepingchambers" of HCE and ALP. In a sense, we're slowly zeroing in on that room, moving from a wide shot of the entire house to a closer shot of the parents' bedroom. As we view the entire house, we see all of the household. The "court" is in "half morning," both indicating the "relaxed" time of half-mourning and, more pertinently, the halfway point between the evening and the daybreak. "Soakersoon" (HCE's assistant) is there, as is Kate ("Katya"), who is undressing ("shakenin dowan her droghedars"). The twelve patrons/jurors -- "the "twelve chief barons" -- stand with their arms folded to make sure everything's at peace before they return to their "runameat farums." The 28 young girls are tending to their hair and lamenting their "sadly ringless hands." ALP, the "first mutherer," kneels, while the twins sleep. HCE secretly has a blade drawn (creating a parallel between the plotting Lady Macbeth/Macbeth and ALP/HCE). Finally, Isabel is doing obeisance to HCE, "first furtherer with drawn brand." With this roll call complete, the court comes into "full morning." Perhaps this is a stage direction, after all, for the spotlight falls back upon HCE and ALP as Mark says, "Herein see ye fail not!"
It appears that HCE and ALP are once again trying to have marital relations, as Mark's focus now turns upon a certain "stark pointing pole," which he says he sees "before my misfortune." We learn the distances from this pole to "the dunleary obelisk," "the general's postoffice," "the Wellington memorial," and "Sara's bridge." Maybe since the pole belongs to the universal father, HCE, it's meant to be viewed as the center of the universe. Our narrator tells us that he leers at the scene because he wants to "see a buntingcap of so a pink on the point," or, as McHugh notes, a condom. Mark tells us that this "buntingcap" is something used by "many burgesses by us, greats and grosses."
A transition that sounds just like a commercial break follows. "When you're coaching through Lucalised, on the sulphur spa to visit, it's safer to hit than miss it, stop at his inn!" the commercial voice tells us. It's quite clearly an ad for HCE's pub, where, we learn, we can doze in warmth and enjoy food and drink of questionable quality: "Cried unions to chip, saltpetre to strew, gallpitch to drink, stonebread to break but it's bully to gulp good blueberry pudding."
Following the interruption, the scene resumes back in the "sleepingchambers" of HCE and ALP. In a sense, we're slowly zeroing in on that room, moving from a wide shot of the entire house to a closer shot of the parents' bedroom. As we view the entire house, we see all of the household. The "court" is in "half morning," both indicating the "relaxed" time of half-mourning and, more pertinently, the halfway point between the evening and the daybreak. "Soakersoon" (HCE's assistant) is there, as is Kate ("Katya"), who is undressing ("shakenin dowan her droghedars"). The twelve patrons/jurors -- "the "twelve chief barons" -- stand with their arms folded to make sure everything's at peace before they return to their "runameat farums." The 28 young girls are tending to their hair and lamenting their "sadly ringless hands." ALP, the "first mutherer," kneels, while the twins sleep. HCE secretly has a blade drawn (creating a parallel between the plotting Lady Macbeth/Macbeth and ALP/HCE). Finally, Isabel is doing obeisance to HCE, "first furtherer with drawn brand." With this roll call complete, the court comes into "full morning." Perhaps this is a stage direction, after all, for the spotlight falls back upon HCE and ALP as Mark says, "Herein see ye fail not!"
It appears that HCE and ALP are once again trying to have marital relations, as Mark's focus now turns upon a certain "stark pointing pole," which he says he sees "before my misfortune." We learn the distances from this pole to "the dunleary obelisk," "the general's postoffice," "the Wellington memorial," and "Sara's bridge." Maybe since the pole belongs to the universal father, HCE, it's meant to be viewed as the center of the universe. Our narrator tells us that he leers at the scene because he wants to "see a buntingcap of so a pink on the point," or, as McHugh notes, a condom. Mark tells us that this "buntingcap" is something used by "many burgesses by us, greats and grosses."
Thursday, September 24, 2015
"a second position of discordance"
(563.1-565.5) The other twin, who sleeps on the "codliverside," is Jerry Jehu (Shem). He's the bad one -- the "sobrat" -- who has a "book of craven images," has been crying in his sleep, and has wet the bed ("pipettishly bespilled himself from his foundingpen as illspent from inkinghorn"). Together, the twins are "two very blizky little portereens after their breadscrums, Jerkff and Eatsup." Matthew has a warm spot in his heart for these "folly innocents," though. In concluding his description, he offers them his "copperwise blessing." He reminds us to accept God's plan, saying, "Weeping shouldst not thou be when man falls but that divine scheming ever adoring be." After thanking "kerryjevin" for "these nice presents," he bids adieu and says, "Still tosorrow!"
The next to speak is Mark, who offers "a second position of discordance" from the "rereway" (Matthew gave the "[f]irst position of harmony" from the "[s]ide point of view.") Mark looks from behind into the room where ALP and HCE have gone to check on the sobbing Jerry. From his perspective, "the male entail partially eclipses the femecovert." His description of the scene accordingly begins with HCE's ass, which here becomes another form of Phoenix Park. A "straight road down the centre . . . bisexes the park which is said to be the largest of his kind in the world." On one side is the "vinesregent's lodge," while on "the other supreme piece of cheeks" is the "chief sacristary's residence." Trees (hairs) and stones (pimples) add to the landscape. The overall effect of the sight is to give "wankyrious thoughts to the head," Mark says.
The next to speak is Mark, who offers "a second position of discordance" from the "rereway" (Matthew gave the "[f]irst position of harmony" from the "[s]ide point of view.") Mark looks from behind into the room where ALP and HCE have gone to check on the sobbing Jerry. From his perspective, "the male entail partially eclipses the femecovert." His description of the scene accordingly begins with HCE's ass, which here becomes another form of Phoenix Park. A "straight road down the centre . . . bisexes the park which is said to be the largest of his kind in the world." On one side is the "vinesregent's lodge," while on "the other supreme piece of cheeks" is the "chief sacristary's residence." Trees (hairs) and stones (pimples) add to the landscape. The overall effect of the sight is to give "wankyrious thoughts to the head," Mark says.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
"since we are talking amnessly of brukasloop crazedledaze"
(561.1-562.36) Matthew begins to introduce the Porter children in today's reading There are "two rooms on the upstairs, at forklank and at knifekanter" (as McHugh notes, the forkroom is on the left, and the kniferoom is on the right). "Whom in the wood are they for?" Matt posits. "Why, for little Porter babes, to be saved!" Buttercup (Isabel) sleeps in room number one. Of her name, Matthew says that "you will hear it passim in all the noveletta." The usual fawning description of Isabel follows. Notably, she's treated here as very young. She is "dadad's lottiest daughterperal," and Matthew warns his listeners not to go near her room: "Approach not for ghost sake! It is dormition!" She is "never alone," for she has a pet, "Biddles," which she can talk to and play with. McHugh notes numerous allusions to the Virgin Mary in the description of Buttercup, and she is set above "all the other common marygales that romp round brigidschool," including "charming Carry Whambers or saucy Susy Maucepan of Merry Anna Patchbox or silly Polly Flinders."
The twin brothers -- the "twobirds" -- "doez in sleeproom number twobis." They're close, so close that they "seem to be so tightly tattached as two maggots to touch other." Matthew concludes today's passage with a brief description of the brother on the "heartsleeveside" of the bed, Frank Kevin (Shaun). "Do not you waken him!" Matthew warns. He looks like "the blissed angel" while he sleeps, and Matthew says that some day he will "quit our ingletears" and go "to Amorica to quest a cashy job" (hinted at in Shaun's leaving at the end of chapter two of this Book). He's been featured before in the Wake, Matthew believes, and he will eventually replace HCE: "I guess to have seen somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam to whom he will be becoming liker." Matthew begs forgiveness for this brief diversion before moving on in tomorrow's reading.
The twin brothers -- the "twobirds" -- "doez in sleeproom number twobis." They're close, so close that they "seem to be so tightly tattached as two maggots to touch other." Matthew concludes today's passage with a brief description of the brother on the "heartsleeveside" of the bed, Frank Kevin (Shaun). "Do not you waken him!" Matthew warns. He looks like "the blissed angel" while he sleeps, and Matthew says that some day he will "quit our ingletears" and go "to Amorica to quest a cashy job" (hinted at in Shaun's leaving at the end of chapter two of this Book). He's been featured before in the Wake, Matthew believes, and he will eventually replace HCE: "I guess to have seen somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam to whom he will be becoming liker." Matthew begs forgiveness for this brief diversion before moving on in tomorrow's reading.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
"Check action."
(559.17-560.36) The play (or is it a film?) picks up the pace in today's reading. We see HCE "with nightcap" in the forefront and ALP "with curlpins" behind. The proceedings are treated as a kind of chess game featuring "[c]heck action" and pieces -- such as queens, knights, and pawns -- woven into the language. (I know next to nothing about chess, so whatever McHugh doesn't point out about it is lost on me.) HCE, who is of "gross build," exhibits rage after hearing the cry in yesterday's reading, while ALP, who is "fithery wight," exhibits fear.
Another cry is heard (this time, the stage direction "Callboy" indicates that one of the boys may be crying). This prompts ALP to dash out of bed, while HCE plods behind "after to queen's lead." The couple moves through the hall and up the stairs toward the children. The narrator -- who, as Campbell and Robinson note, seems to be Matthew (the word "Matt" near the beginning of today's passage indicates he's speaking) -- notes that HCE -- the "old humburgh" --"looks a thing incomplete," perhaps because he's quite drowsy. He can still pour "a fine head of porter," though. Matthew compliments the home (an "ideal residence for realtar").
In the last paragraph of today's reading, the couple becomes "The Porters," a name deriving from Earwicker's occupation. "The Porters, so to speak, after their shadowstealers in the newsbaggers, are very nice people, are they not?" asks Matthew, before answering his own question in the affirmative. Mr. Porter "is an excellent forefather," and Mrs. Porter "is a most kindhearted messmother." Matthew adds, "A so untied family pateramater is not more existing on papel or off of it." They're perfectly matched ("As keymaster fits the lock it weds"), and they "care for nothing except everything that is allporterous."
Another cry is heard (this time, the stage direction "Callboy" indicates that one of the boys may be crying). This prompts ALP to dash out of bed, while HCE plods behind "after to queen's lead." The couple moves through the hall and up the stairs toward the children. The narrator -- who, as Campbell and Robinson note, seems to be Matthew (the word "Matt" near the beginning of today's passage indicates he's speaking) -- notes that HCE -- the "old humburgh" --"looks a thing incomplete," perhaps because he's quite drowsy. He can still pour "a fine head of porter," though. Matthew compliments the home (an "ideal residence for realtar").
In the last paragraph of today's reading, the couple becomes "The Porters," a name deriving from Earwicker's occupation. "The Porters, so to speak, after their shadowstealers in the newsbaggers, are very nice people, are they not?" asks Matthew, before answering his own question in the affirmative. Mr. Porter "is an excellent forefather," and Mrs. Porter "is a most kindhearted messmother." Matthew adds, "A so untied family pateramater is not more existing on papel or off of it." They're perfectly matched ("As keymaster fits the lock it weds"), and they "care for nothing except everything that is allporterous."
Monday, September 21, 2015
"I fail to say. I dearsee you too."
(557.13-559.16) HCE makes it from the pub floor to his bed during today's reading, but first the narrator once again recalls HCE's trial, which is perhaps reenacted "each and every juridical sessions night." The jury -- "goodmen twelve and true" -- found HCE guilty "of their and those imputations of fornicolopulation with two of his albowcrural correlations." HCE's crime is retraced: "he was said to have enjoyed by anticipation when schooling them in amown, mid grass, she sat." Asserting that he was under "heat pressure" at the time, HCE asked the court for "grand toleration." He made his case, and prayed to the court that "of his fault you would make obliteration." But the court held that "there can be no right extinuation for contravention of common and statute legislation for which the fit remedy resides, for Mr Sully, in corporal amputation." HCE got a three-month sentence.
Meanwhile, Isabel and the 28 girls -- the "nine with twenty Leixlip yearlings, darters all" -- reveled in Shaun's company. They were "weeping like fun" as he left (a departure we saw in the second chapter of Book III), "for they were never happier, huhu, than when they were miserable, haha."
With these two diversions complete, we find HCE ("Albatrus Nyanzer") in bed with ALP ("Victa Nyanza"). HCE's "mace of might" is "mortified" (McHugh suggests that "mace" is HCE's penis), and ALP has hung her nightgown ("her beautifell") on a nail in the bedroom. The narrator hints that they may be about to engage in intercourse before a cry in another part of the house interrupts them. "Where are we at all?" a voice asks. "and whenabouts in the name of space?" This echoes the opening lines of the chapter, as seen in yesterday's reading. Another voice further notes this early morning sense of confusion. "I don't understand," it says, perhaps giving expression to the reader's thoughts. "I fail to say. I dearsee you too." (You can straighten these phrases out to "I fail to see. I daresay you too." Of course, the way Joyce has it emphasizes the confusion present in the scene.)
The final paragraph of the chapter provides stage directions describing the modestly furnished bedroom of HCE and ALP. Among the noteworthy items found in the room is a picture above the mantel portraying "Michael, lance, slaying Satan, dragon with smoke" (this, of course, calls back to the Mick/Shaun-Nick/Shem dichotomy). Tomorrow, we will see how this scene begins to play out.
Meanwhile, Isabel and the 28 girls -- the "nine with twenty Leixlip yearlings, darters all" -- reveled in Shaun's company. They were "weeping like fun" as he left (a departure we saw in the second chapter of Book III), "for they were never happier, huhu, than when they were miserable, haha."
With these two diversions complete, we find HCE ("Albatrus Nyanzer") in bed with ALP ("Victa Nyanza"). HCE's "mace of might" is "mortified" (McHugh suggests that "mace" is HCE's penis), and ALP has hung her nightgown ("her beautifell") on a nail in the bedroom. The narrator hints that they may be about to engage in intercourse before a cry in another part of the house interrupts them. "Where are we at all?" a voice asks. "and whenabouts in the name of space?" This echoes the opening lines of the chapter, as seen in yesterday's reading. Another voice further notes this early morning sense of confusion. "I don't understand," it says, perhaps giving expression to the reader's thoughts. "I fail to say. I dearsee you too." (You can straighten these phrases out to "I fail to see. I daresay you too." Of course, the way Joyce has it emphasizes the confusion present in the scene.)
The final paragraph of the chapter provides stage directions describing the modestly furnished bedroom of HCE and ALP. Among the noteworthy items found in the room is a picture above the mantel portraying "Michael, lance, slaying Satan, dragon with smoke" (this, of course, calls back to the Mick/Shaun-Nick/Shem dichotomy). Tomorrow, we will see how this scene begins to play out.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
"Let sleepth."
(555.1-557.12) The fourth and final chapter of Book III of Finnegans Wake begins with a sense of drowsy confusion. "What was thaas?" a voice asks. "Fog was whaas? Too mult sleepth. Let sleepth." This is a bit of a misleading introduction to a chapter that looks to be fairly straightforward and poetic (at least two pages in).
It almost instantly becomes clear, though, that we are once again in HCE's home. We see "the sycomores, all four of them" -- the four old men -- watching over what is presumably HCE's bed. (The four old men are here twice identified as "esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin," which, McHugh notes, were the four royal manors of Dublin formed by Henry II from the lands of Viking kings.) The four old men (who the secondary sources suggest are the four bedposts of HCE's bed) hear something from the room of the twins, Kevin Mary (Shaun, the "nicechild") and Jerry Godolphing (Shem, the "badbrat"). Meanwile, Isabel, "the only girl they loved," lay sleeping "in her april cot," dreaming of lives as a nun, saint, and widow who will live the Viconian cycle: "win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me!"
Outside, along the "grassgross bumpinstrass" that happens to pass the pub, Wachtman Havelook walks his nightly rounds, which involves peeping ("seequeerscenes"). With a bottle of liquor in his pocket, he is "sequestering for lovers' lost propertied offices" the items left behind along the road by the revelers who have returned home after this "allpurgers' night."
Back inside the homestead, the housekeeper, Kate, is woken from her sleep by a noise that sounds like a knock on the door downstairs. She thinks it might be the urinating girls from the park ("Schweeps's mingerals"), Shaun the Postman with a telegram for HCE, or the four old men ("the four hoarsmen on their apolkaloops, Norreys, Soothbys, Yates and Welks"). After walking down the stairs and raising the candle, she sees HCE naked on the floor, after having passed out drunk and "slumped to the throne" at the end of Book II, Chapter 3. With the "whites of his pious eyebulbs," HCE swears Kate to silence.
It almost instantly becomes clear, though, that we are once again in HCE's home. We see "the sycomores, all four of them" -- the four old men -- watching over what is presumably HCE's bed. (The four old men are here twice identified as "esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin," which, McHugh notes, were the four royal manors of Dublin formed by Henry II from the lands of Viking kings.) The four old men (who the secondary sources suggest are the four bedposts of HCE's bed) hear something from the room of the twins, Kevin Mary (Shaun, the "nicechild") and Jerry Godolphing (Shem, the "badbrat"). Meanwile, Isabel, "the only girl they loved," lay sleeping "in her april cot," dreaming of lives as a nun, saint, and widow who will live the Viconian cycle: "win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me!"
Outside, along the "grassgross bumpinstrass" that happens to pass the pub, Wachtman Havelook walks his nightly rounds, which involves peeping ("seequeerscenes"). With a bottle of liquor in his pocket, he is "sequestering for lovers' lost propertied offices" the items left behind along the road by the revelers who have returned home after this "allpurgers' night."
Back inside the homestead, the housekeeper, Kate, is woken from her sleep by a noise that sounds like a knock on the door downstairs. She thinks it might be the urinating girls from the park ("Schweeps's mingerals"), Shaun the Postman with a telegram for HCE, or the four old men ("the four hoarsmen on their apolkaloops, Norreys, Soothbys, Yates and Welks"). After walking down the stairs and raising the candle, she sees HCE naked on the floor, after having passed out drunk and "slumped to the throne" at the end of Book II, Chapter 3. With the "whites of his pious eyebulbs," HCE swears Kate to silence.
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