(613.8-615.10) The reading for today is another particularly challenging one, but it's equally rewarding to try to unpack. Tindall writes that this is a kind of transition passage, clearing the way from St. Patrick's victory in yesterday's reading to a final look at ALP's letter in the coming pages.
Day ("dayleash") is upon us now. With this new beginning, it is time for transformations to occur. "And let every crisscouple be so crosscomplimentary, little eggons, youlk and meelk, in a farbiger pancosmos," the narrator says. The couples we've seen -- husbands and wives, warring brothers -- will take on a greater significance after they've eaten their breakfast, or "brarkfarsts."
Today "there is bound to be a loveleg day for mirrages in the open." As the Wake prepares to repeat itself, we will see new marriages, just as we will see new mirages, in the open world of a new dream-within-a-dream. New clothes are a necessity for this rearrival in a new world: "You got to make good that breachsuit, seamer. You going to haulm port houlm, toilermaster." Meanwhile, old clothes -- just like old stories and gossip -- will return from the washers at the Liffey: "Delivered as. Caffirs and culls and onceagain overalls, the fittest surviva lives that blued, iorn and storridge can make them. Whichus all claims. Clean. Whenastcleeps. Close."
In this transition state, we're left to wonder where we are. "What has gone?" the narrator asks. "How it ends?" We maintain our focus on the present, but in doing so also feel simultaneously drawn toward and repelled from the past and the future: "It will remember itself from every sides, with all gestures, in each our word. Today's truth, tomorrow's trend." To cope with this jarring moment, the narrator instructs us: "Forget, remember!"
The final paragraph of the reading is a great one. It strikes me in one sense as being Joyce's commentary on the construction and purpose of the Wake. The book is a "wholemole millwheeling vicociclometer, a tetradomational gazebocroticon." It is known to every "Matty Marky, Lukey or John-a-Donk" and follows "a clappercoupling smeltingworks exprogressive process." To "the farmer, his son and their homely codes" (the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost), this process is "known as eggburst, eggblend, eggburial, and hatch-as-hatch can" (Vico's four ages represented in the breakfast ritual). Like a digestive system, Joyce takes "separated elements of precedent decomposition for the verypetpurpose of subsequent recombination." In doing so, he details the "sameold gamebold adomic structure of our Finnius the old One" (HCE and his various forms) and prepares it so that it's ready for our breakfast nourishment, "piping hot, as sure as herself pits hen to paper and there's scribings scrawled on eggs." Pretty great, huh?
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
"And here are the details."
(611.3-613.7) I agree with Tindall when he notes that today's passage is one of the more obscure parts of the Wake. The debate between Balkelly/Bilkilly/Belkelly/Balkally (whatever you want to call him) and Patrick is a nuanced one exploring the nature of human perception and knowledge. I'll keep my discussion of it brief, as the daily nature of the blog doesn't give me much time to ponder the nuances here (i.e., I need a lot of time to think about this part).
Berkeley (let's call him that today, since McHugh notes that a significant portion of this passage is based upon the philosopher's Theory of Vision) represents the ancient Irish druid tradition (he's the "archdruid of islish chinchinjoss"). To put it in a crude summary, his theory is that fallen humanity can only see an object by the one of the seven "gradationes of solar light" that the object is unable to absorb. This seems inadequate, to say the least, since we identify things (in particular, their colors) by what they are not. The enlightened being, the "seer in seventh degree of wisdom," however, is knowledgeable of the "true inwardness of reality" and can see things as they truly are, particularly the six colors/"gloria of light" that they actually retain. Like the reader, for whom much of this is obscure, Patrick is not able to "catch all that preachybook." By means of explanation, Berkeley uses the king, who is standing nearby, as an example. Berkeley points to six features of the king's appearance that Patrick perceives, respectively, as the colors red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo, and violet. Each of these, Berkeley explains, retains the color green. Berkeley, being the enlightened Irish native, sees that color green in everything.
When it's Patrick's turn to respond, his company of monks is unsure of who will win the debate, given the "possible viriditude" of Berkeley's argument and the "probable eruberuption" of Patrick's. His argument is less intricate. He wipes his nose with a handkerchief and (according to my understanding) says that we know an object simply by what it is, "the sound sense sympolin a weedwayedwold of the firethere the sun in his halo cast. Onmen." The sun, like God's light, shines upon everything and illuminates it as it is, and we know it as such.
Patrick's argument wins the day, as the helots shout, "Good safe firelamp!" (both "God save Ireland!" and "the good, safe sun!").
Berkeley (let's call him that today, since McHugh notes that a significant portion of this passage is based upon the philosopher's Theory of Vision) represents the ancient Irish druid tradition (he's the "archdruid of islish chinchinjoss"). To put it in a crude summary, his theory is that fallen humanity can only see an object by the one of the seven "gradationes of solar light" that the object is unable to absorb. This seems inadequate, to say the least, since we identify things (in particular, their colors) by what they are not. The enlightened being, the "seer in seventh degree of wisdom," however, is knowledgeable of the "true inwardness of reality" and can see things as they truly are, particularly the six colors/"gloria of light" that they actually retain. Like the reader, for whom much of this is obscure, Patrick is not able to "catch all that preachybook." By means of explanation, Berkeley uses the king, who is standing nearby, as an example. Berkeley points to six features of the king's appearance that Patrick perceives, respectively, as the colors red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo, and violet. Each of these, Berkeley explains, retains the color green. Berkeley, being the enlightened Irish native, sees that color green in everything.
When it's Patrick's turn to respond, his company of monks is unsure of who will win the debate, given the "possible viriditude" of Berkeley's argument and the "probable eruberuption" of Patrick's. His argument is less intricate. He wipes his nose with a handkerchief and (according to my understanding) says that we know an object simply by what it is, "the sound sense sympolin a weedwayedwold of the firethere the sun in his halo cast. Onmen." The sun, like God's light, shines upon everything and illuminates it as it is, and we know it as such.
Patrick's argument wins the day, as the helots shout, "Good safe firelamp!" (both "God save Ireland!" and "the good, safe sun!").
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
"we are waiting"
(609.9-611.2) Also witnessing the journey with us has been the four old men's ass, which will be roaming about the city. All will occupy Wynn's Hotel, which will open shortly, when the sun has risen and given "to every seeable a hue and to every hearable a cry and to each spectacle his spot and to each happening her houram." In the mean time, we are waiting for "Hymn."
Most of the remainder of today's reading consists of a dialogue between two figures, Muta and Juva (who link back to Mutt and Jute from near the Wake's beginning). These two see smoke rising in the distance, smoke that both indicates the awakening at HCE's home and the arrival of another outsider, St. Patrick (here both "the Chrystanthemlander" and "the Eurasian Generalissimo"). Patrick stands in opposition to Bulkily (the Buckley to Patrick's Russian General), who is "fundementially theosophagusted over the whorse proceedings." Also present is the resurrected king (who comes from "undernearth the memorialorum"). A contest between St. Patrick and Bulkily is about to begin, and the king is betting on both sides: "He has help his crewn on the burkely buy but he has holf his crown on the Eurasian Generalissimo," Juva says.
As Tindall notes, Muta and Juva reach an understanding through their dialogue (as opposed to Mutt and Jute, who are unable to communicate with each other). Muta suggests that the impending contest illustrates that
The reading ends with a description of another horse race. As the racing happens, the narrator tells us that "Paddrock and bookley chat." The substance of that debate will appear in tomorrow's passage.
Most of the remainder of today's reading consists of a dialogue between two figures, Muta and Juva (who link back to Mutt and Jute from near the Wake's beginning). These two see smoke rising in the distance, smoke that both indicates the awakening at HCE's home and the arrival of another outsider, St. Patrick (here both "the Chrystanthemlander" and "the Eurasian Generalissimo"). Patrick stands in opposition to Bulkily (the Buckley to Patrick's Russian General), who is "fundementially theosophagusted over the whorse proceedings." Also present is the resurrected king (who comes from "undernearth the memorialorum"). A contest between St. Patrick and Bulkily is about to begin, and the king is betting on both sides: "He has help his crewn on the burkely buy but he has holf his crown on the Eurasian Generalissimo," Juva says.
As Tindall notes, Muta and Juva reach an understanding through their dialogue (as opposed to Mutt and Jute, who are unable to communicate with each other). Muta suggests that the impending contest illustrates that
when we shall have acquired unification we shall pass on to diversity and when we shall have passed on to diversity we shall have acquired the instinct of combat and when we shall have acquired the instinct of combat we shall pass back to the spirit of appeasement.Juva agrees, adding, "By the light of the bright reason which daysends to us from the high." What Muta argues is that when we are unified, we'll find differences between ourselves, which will cause us to battle each other, but in battling, we will eventually reach peace. This is the constant dialectic between both the brothers throughout the Wake and throughout history: peace leads to war, which leads back to peace. By means of emphasizing this idea, the peaceful end of this dialogue is jarred with a single-word paragraph: "Shoot."
The reading ends with a description of another horse race. As the racing happens, the narrator tells us that "Paddrock and bookley chat." The substance of that debate will appear in tomorrow's passage.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
"Into the wikeawades warld from sleep we are passing."
(607.17-609.8) And, I'm back. After that brief absence, I am ready for the home stretch and renewed in my determination (which I mentioned last week) to finish Finnegans Wake by the end of the month.
We pick up with the "lovesoftfun" of the wake in which the new generation celebrates the passing of the old. As expected, the revelers have gotten a bit drunk and end up stumbling over one another. "A polog, my engl!" offers one reveler, who apologizes to his angel for his actions. "Excutes. Om still so sovvy."
Meanwhile, the day is drawing nearer, and the "regn of durknass" is "snowly receassing." The sun -- "Solsking the First" -- will soon "processingly show up above Tumplen Bar" and will be cheered by the new HCE, "Boergemester 'Dyk' ffogg of Isoles."
The narrator goes on to tell us that what we've been reading in "this vague of visibilities" has been a story of "just the draeper, the two drawpers assisters and the three droopers assessors confraternitisers." Obviously, this is HCE, the two young women who dropped their drawers in the park, and the three soldiers, or as the narrator puts it again, "Uncle Arth, your two cozes from Niece and (kunject a bit now!) our own familiars, Billyhealy, Ballyhooly and Bullyhowley."
It seems that ALP is awake, and that the sound of her voice gladdens the sleeping HCE ("the cocklyhearted dreamerish") as she makes the morning tea. We've reached the point where "the week of wakes is out and over" and a weak wick will turn into a fierce flame as "the Phoenican wakes." As we pass into the "wikeawades warld" from sleep, the narrator calls, "Come, hours, be ours!" It's not yet time to wake, though. "But still," says the narrator. "Ah diar, ah diar! And stay."
The conclusion of today's reading looks back upon the book, which was "allso agreenable." We toured "the no placelike no timelike absolent" and got everyone all mixed up, "like so many unprobables in their poor suit of the improssable." On this journey, the narrator notes, we were joined by the four old men/gospel authors, "Matamarulukajoni."
We pick up with the "lovesoftfun" of the wake in which the new generation celebrates the passing of the old. As expected, the revelers have gotten a bit drunk and end up stumbling over one another. "A polog, my engl!" offers one reveler, who apologizes to his angel for his actions. "Excutes. Om still so sovvy."
Meanwhile, the day is drawing nearer, and the "regn of durknass" is "snowly receassing." The sun -- "Solsking the First" -- will soon "processingly show up above Tumplen Bar" and will be cheered by the new HCE, "Boergemester 'Dyk' ffogg of Isoles."
The narrator goes on to tell us that what we've been reading in "this vague of visibilities" has been a story of "just the draeper, the two drawpers assisters and the three droopers assessors confraternitisers." Obviously, this is HCE, the two young women who dropped their drawers in the park, and the three soldiers, or as the narrator puts it again, "Uncle Arth, your two cozes from Niece and (kunject a bit now!) our own familiars, Billyhealy, Ballyhooly and Bullyhowley."
It seems that ALP is awake, and that the sound of her voice gladdens the sleeping HCE ("the cocklyhearted dreamerish") as she makes the morning tea. We've reached the point where "the week of wakes is out and over" and a weak wick will turn into a fierce flame as "the Phoenican wakes." As we pass into the "wikeawades warld" from sleep, the narrator calls, "Come, hours, be ours!" It's not yet time to wake, though. "But still," says the narrator. "Ah diar, ah diar! And stay."
The conclusion of today's reading looks back upon the book, which was "allso agreenable." We toured "the no placelike no timelike absolent" and got everyone all mixed up, "like so many unprobables in their poor suit of the improssable." On this journey, the narrator notes, we were joined by the four old men/gospel authors, "Matamarulukajoni."
Thursday, October 15, 2015
"lovesoftfun at Finnegan's Wake"
(605.4-607.16) It's not an exaggeration to say that a book could be written about either of the two paragraphs in today's reading. They're loaded, plain and simple. My secondary sources do fairly well in breaking down these complex passages, so, for today, I'll just try to do a brief synopsis to keep these pages fresh in my mind when I return to them.
To put it most simply, the first paragraph tells the story of Saint Kevin, an Irish monk who contemplates "the primal sacrament of baptism or the regeneration of all man by affusion of water" from a bathtub inside a "honeybeehivehut" on an island in a lake. This basic narrative can be explored through any number of depths, however. Within this single paragraph, McHugh notes that Joyce sets forth and explores the ecclesiastical hierarchy and the celestial hierarchy (looking into the levels of religious and transcendent being), the liturgical colors and canonical hours (looking into the daily and seasonal cycles of human beings), and the gifts of the Holy Spirit and sacraments (looking into the way that human beings align themselves with the eternal). Also contained in this paragraph are the practices of monks and the official path to canonized sainthood. At the moment, it's tough for me to think about anything to say about this paragraph in this space, except to note that this is Joyce at his absolute best.
The second paragraph in the reading takes a step back from the direct focus on Kevin and looks at him in relation to his father and at the family unit in general. HCE, as the original form of Kevin, was the "first exploder to make his ablations in these parks" and "was indeed that lucky mortal which the monster trial showed on its first day out." Together, HCE and ALP formed the "fairypair" that formed Kevin. The motto of this "MacCowell family" (the family of Finn MacCool) is, "Great sinner, good sonner." Somehow, the father-son relationship becomes a great sort of cuckoo clock, in which the Biblical brothers Jacob and Esau appear at the quarter hours and lead into "the apostles at every hours of changeover." And this hourly changeover serves as a signal for the father ("old Champelysied") to move on/pass away (or, "seek the shades of his retirement") and for the new generation ("young Chappielassies") to joyously take the old generation's place ("to tear a round and tease their partners lovesoftfun at Finnegan's Wake").
To put it most simply, the first paragraph tells the story of Saint Kevin, an Irish monk who contemplates "the primal sacrament of baptism or the regeneration of all man by affusion of water" from a bathtub inside a "honeybeehivehut" on an island in a lake. This basic narrative can be explored through any number of depths, however. Within this single paragraph, McHugh notes that Joyce sets forth and explores the ecclesiastical hierarchy and the celestial hierarchy (looking into the levels of religious and transcendent being), the liturgical colors and canonical hours (looking into the daily and seasonal cycles of human beings), and the gifts of the Holy Spirit and sacraments (looking into the way that human beings align themselves with the eternal). Also contained in this paragraph are the practices of monks and the official path to canonized sainthood. At the moment, it's tough for me to think about anything to say about this paragraph in this space, except to note that this is Joyce at his absolute best.
The second paragraph in the reading takes a step back from the direct focus on Kevin and looks at him in relation to his father and at the family unit in general. HCE, as the original form of Kevin, was the "first exploder to make his ablations in these parks" and "was indeed that lucky mortal which the monster trial showed on its first day out." Together, HCE and ALP formed the "fairypair" that formed Kevin. The motto of this "MacCowell family" (the family of Finn MacCool) is, "Great sinner, good sonner." Somehow, the father-son relationship becomes a great sort of cuckoo clock, in which the Biblical brothers Jacob and Esau appear at the quarter hours and lead into "the apostles at every hours of changeover." And this hourly changeover serves as a signal for the father ("old Champelysied") to move on/pass away (or, "seek the shades of his retirement") and for the new generation ("young Chappielassies") to joyously take the old generation's place ("to tear a round and tease their partners lovesoftfun at Finnegan's Wake").
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
"Oyes! Oyess! Oyesesyeses!"
(603.34-605.3) I've read a shorter passage today (really, just over a page). This is mostly to try and stop at the end of a paragraph (and avoid ending in mid-paragraph), but it also serves nicely to set up what looks to be an important (and slightly longer) reading tomorrow. The readings have gone slightly over the past few days (or at least it seems so), so I'm still good to go on my daily pace. (Given my frequent starts and stops through most of this project, you'll forgive me for mentioning now that I've posted 67 days in a row, a fact in which I take a slight bit of pride. Don't worry, though: I'm in the midst of a couple of busy weeks, so I'll inevitably miss a day or two soon. Still, I'm determined to finish the Wake by the end of the month. So close . . . .)
"But what does Coemghem, the fostard?" the narrator once again asks on our behalf. The question wasn't completely answered when it was first asked in yesterday's reading (are any questions in the Wake ever answered?), so a second shot is taken here. We first look to a depiction of Kevin in a stained glass window (a "novened iconostase of his blueygreyned vitroils"), which is just barely being lit by the morning sun's first rays. Kevin comes from the "vinebranch of Heremonheber," which, as McHugh explains, means he's a descendant of the legendary progenitors of the Irish race (Heremon and Heber). His homeland is "leaved invert and fructed proper," connecting him (as McHugh notes) to the ancient crest of the Finnegan family. We must remember that it's still morning, though, and "the cublic hatches endnot open yet for hourly rincers' mess," which means that it's not yet time for early morning mass, for the pub to be open, and for Kevin to wake. The "[b]esoakers loiter on" (the drunks wait for their drink) and the night traffic has not given way to the early morning "milk train" and commuter transportation.
We are jolted by an ecstatic calling to order: "Oyes! Oyeses! Oyesesyeses!" The "primace of the Gaulls, protonotorious, I yam as I yam" (yes, McHugh agrees with me that is a Popeye reference in the Wake) is about to give "a Gael warning." We are to learn about "the miracles, death and life" of Kevin, a servant and "filial fearer" of God, the Lord Creator. And it looks like that lesson will truly appear in tomorrow's reading.
"But what does Coemghem, the fostard?" the narrator once again asks on our behalf. The question wasn't completely answered when it was first asked in yesterday's reading (are any questions in the Wake ever answered?), so a second shot is taken here. We first look to a depiction of Kevin in a stained glass window (a "novened iconostase of his blueygreyned vitroils"), which is just barely being lit by the morning sun's first rays. Kevin comes from the "vinebranch of Heremonheber," which, as McHugh explains, means he's a descendant of the legendary progenitors of the Irish race (Heremon and Heber). His homeland is "leaved invert and fructed proper," connecting him (as McHugh notes) to the ancient crest of the Finnegan family. We must remember that it's still morning, though, and "the cublic hatches endnot open yet for hourly rincers' mess," which means that it's not yet time for early morning mass, for the pub to be open, and for Kevin to wake. The "[b]esoakers loiter on" (the drunks wait for their drink) and the night traffic has not given way to the early morning "milk train" and commuter transportation.
We are jolted by an ecstatic calling to order: "Oyes! Oyeses! Oyesesyeses!" The "primace of the Gaulls, protonotorious, I yam as I yam" (yes, McHugh agrees with me that is a Popeye reference in the Wake) is about to give "a Gael warning." We are to learn about "the miracles, death and life" of Kevin, a servant and "filial fearer" of God, the Lord Creator. And it looks like that lesson will truly appear in tomorrow's reading.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
"may he live for river!"
(601.30-603.33) Having sung their song, the 29 girls now call for Kevin/Shaun to come forth: "Ascend out of your bed, cavern of a trunk, and shrine!" Kate is in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and it is time for Kevin to found his own country, "Newer Aland" (a new New Z-land). "Be smark," the girls instruct Kevin, who has "the curling, perfect-portioned, flowerfleckled, shapley highhued, delicate features swaying."
Now that we know that Kevin is the one to come, the narrator asks a pertinent question on our behalf: "What does Coemghen?" Kevin/Coemghen has been viewed as an upright man, a "woodtoogooder," and the narrator wonders, "Is his moraltack still his best of weapons?" He is a young version of HCE, so it is natural that "[h]is face is the face of a son."
These brief descriptions of Kevin are cut off somewhat abruptly by the arrival of the four old men's ass -- here the "ass of the O'Dwyer of Greyglens" -- which gives information to "an indepondant reporter, 'Mike' Portlund" of "the Durban Gazette." Portlund records what the ass says and sets it forth here in the form of brief headlines that detail the events surrounding HCE's wake. "Deemsday," the reporter writes. "Bosse of Upper and Lower Byggotstrade, Ciwareke, may he live for river! The Games funeral at Valleytemple." Pub History is uncovered at the wake, which devolves into outrage.
Amid the mob at the funeral is Kevin, "Mr Hurr Hansen," who is most concerned at the moment with the "merryfoule of maidens happynghome from the dance." The ladies seem taken with "Shoon the Puzt" (Shaun the Post, or Kevin) and call to him, saying, "Bring us this days our maily bag!" Others seem to offer him a warning, though, and he is given the tragic example of Parnell, whose extramarital affair helped in part to cause his downfall. Parnell's fall is also a form of HCE's fall. "Haves you the time," Kevin is asked, recalling the troubling question the Cad asked HCE. "Heard you the crime, senny boy?" Kevin must beware the "[h]yacinssies with heliotrollops," who are "[n]ot once fullvixen freakings and but dubbledecoys."
Now that we know that Kevin is the one to come, the narrator asks a pertinent question on our behalf: "What does Coemghen?" Kevin/Coemghen has been viewed as an upright man, a "woodtoogooder," and the narrator wonders, "Is his moraltack still his best of weapons?" He is a young version of HCE, so it is natural that "[h]is face is the face of a son."
These brief descriptions of Kevin are cut off somewhat abruptly by the arrival of the four old men's ass -- here the "ass of the O'Dwyer of Greyglens" -- which gives information to "an indepondant reporter, 'Mike' Portlund" of "the Durban Gazette." Portlund records what the ass says and sets it forth here in the form of brief headlines that detail the events surrounding HCE's wake. "Deemsday," the reporter writes. "Bosse of Upper and Lower Byggotstrade, Ciwareke, may he live for river! The Games funeral at Valleytemple." Pub History is uncovered at the wake, which devolves into outrage.
Amid the mob at the funeral is Kevin, "Mr Hurr Hansen," who is most concerned at the moment with the "merryfoule of maidens happynghome from the dance." The ladies seem taken with "Shoon the Puzt" (Shaun the Post, or Kevin) and call to him, saying, "Bring us this days our maily bag!" Others seem to offer him a warning, though, and he is given the tragic example of Parnell, whose extramarital affair helped in part to cause his downfall. Parnell's fall is also a form of HCE's fall. "Haves you the time," Kevin is asked, recalling the troubling question the Cad asked HCE. "Heard you the crime, senny boy?" Kevin must beware the "[h]yacinssies with heliotrollops," who are "[n]ot once fullvixen freakings and but dubbledecoys."
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