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Delaney:     Useen:  tclg:   [*]
He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows.
(does any other character in literature enter a church by the back door?)
(Google Streetview gets confused and tries to jump you up into the station overhead)
Stepping into the porch he doffed his hat, took the card from his pocket and tucked it again behind the leather headband. Damn it. I might have tried to work M'Coy for a pass to Mullingar.
Delaney: Same notice on the door. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver and the African mission. Prayers for the conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious.
[text of appeal]
The protestants are the same. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the true religion.
Save China's millions. Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for them. Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Taking it easy with hand under his cheek. Josssticks burning.
Heathen Chinee 1870 poem
Chinese immigrants were called Celestials because one of China's old names for itself was 'Celestial Empire'
Not like Ecce Homo. Crown of thorns and cross.
|17yo JAJ's crit|
Delaney: Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Chopsticks? Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguished looking. Sorry I didn't work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. They're taught that. He's not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is he? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Like to see them sitting round in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Still life. Lap it up like milk, I suppose.
why "Chopsticks?"? maybe Confucius using them to symbolize nonviolence? (cf p13 "He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled on his knife.")
were Patrick and Confucius reading the signatures of things?
Mat Kane/ Martin Cunningham
The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere.
Something going on: some sodality. Pity so empty. Nice discreet place to be next some girl. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven.
fd: 'men had confraternities, women had sodalities'
(why isn't Bloom annoyed he has to pretend to worship instead of sneaking right thru?)
Delaney: Women knelt in the benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. A batch knelt at the altar rails.
scapulars? (horselike, obedient)
The priest went along by them, murmuring, holding the thing in his hands. He stopped at each, took out a communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank. Then the next one. Her hat sank at once. Then the next one: a small old woman. The priest bent down to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin. The next one. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What? Corpus: body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it: only swallow it down. Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse why the cannibals cotton to it.
Stannie on 'cannibalism'
Delaney: He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, and seek their places. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. These pots we have to wear. We ought
Bloom in this chapter almost always thinks 'they' rather than 'we'
lotus-eaters: 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83