Sunday, August 31, 2014

Page 150 (8.221-257) "Your funeral's... U.P.?"

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Your funeral's tomorrow
While you're coming through the rye.
Diddlediddle dumdum
'His funeral's tomorrow' [lyrics] (includes refs to aces, wives, baking, stickpins) LB changes 'His' to "Your"
'Comin' through the rye' 

— Sad to lose the old friends, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily.


Now that's quite enough about that. Just quietly: husband.

(she seems to have been Molly's main competition before they married, LB still enjoys the relationship)

— And your lord and master?

Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Hasn't lost them anyhow.

(implying other attractive traits were lost)

— O, don't be talking! she said. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. He's in there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. He has me heartscalded. Wait till I show you.

Ireland has no snakes, and rattlesnakes are found only in the western hemisphere
"in there" Harrison's (p152) but why?

Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's gullet. Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or they'd taste it with the hot tea. Or is it from her? A barefoot arab stood over the grating, breathing in the fumes. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. Knife and fork chained to the table.

(if Harrison's is a confectioner's, what's with the lunchsmells? from below??)

jam-filled puff pastry

Demerara lightbrown sugar
"from her" (her scent)

street arabs (1895)
chained tableware was common with charity meals

Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpin: ought to have a guard on those things. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging. Open. Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain. Husband barging. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are you feeding your little brother's family? Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she...?

(is Bloom worrying the 'arab' will grab her money?)

(sometimes medicinal)
ie, that was just a pastille that fell

— There must be a new moon out, she said. He's always bad then. Do you know what he did last night?

(new moon was Monday. isn't it usually fullmoons that are blamed?)

fd: [307]

Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in alarm, yet smiling.

making common cause against husband

— What? Mr Bloom asked.

Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.

practical-psych practice, not just being himself

— Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had, a nightmare.


Bloom's 1st thought is to blame Breen's nightmare on indigestion (but why doesn't Joyce let him complete the thought? Josie interrupts it?)

— Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.

cf Haines' black panther p4

— The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.

'black as the ace of spades' usually refers to skin color

She took a folded postcard from her handbag.

— Read that, she said. He got it this morning.

after the dream

— What is it? Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. U.P.?

n.b: it just says 'UP'-- two letters (not 4 letters: 'you pee up') probably no periods either [speculation]



[DD 03:35-04:27]
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Saturday, August 30, 2014

Page 149 (8.181-220) "Bartell... this morning."

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Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the south.

Bartle M'Carthy
jump to 1:00 to hear her pronounce 'winds' as 'wynds'

Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting on about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the supper room or oakroom of the Mansion house. He and I behind.
oakroom in 1922

Sheet of her music blew out of my hand against the high school railings. Lucky it didn't. Thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin linking her in front. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. His farewell concerts. Positively last appearance on any stage. May be for months and may be for never. Remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar up. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust? Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind.

1909 map
Erasmus Smith High School, 40 Harcourt street
HS entrance

"It may be for years and it may be forever"

Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the busk of her stays. White.

busk (front of corset)

Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from her. Always liked to let herself out. Sitting there after till near two, taking out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Happy. Happy. That was the night...

cf p57? "flop and fall of dung"

fd: [306]

— O, Mr Bloom, how do you do?

— O, how do you do, Mrs Breen?

— No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven't seen her for ages.

— In the pink, Mr Bloom said gaily, Milly has a position down in Mullingar, you know.

— Go away! Isn't that grand for her?

— Yes, in a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How are all your charges?

— All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said.

How many has she? No other in sight.

— You're in black, I see. You have no...?

— No, Mr Bloom said. I have just come from a funeral.

Going to crop up all day, I foresee. Who's dead, when and what did he die of? Turn up like a bad penny.

— O dear me, Mrs Breen said. I hope it wasn't any near relation.

May as well get her sympathy.

practical psych

— Dignam, Mr Bloom said. An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly, poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning.

he quickly composes a concise answer to all three questions



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Friday, August 29, 2014

Page 148 (8.142-180) "Kansell... sees every day."

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Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame Street. Well out of that ruck I am. Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Tranquilla convent. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. Wimple suited her small head. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes. Very hard to bargain with that sort of woman. I disturbed her at her devotions that morning. But glad to communicate with the outside world. Our great day, she said. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Sweet name too: caramel. She knew, I think she knew by the way she. If she had married she would have changed. I suppose they really were short of money. Fried everything in the best butter all the same. No lard for them. My heart's broke eating dripping. They like buttering themselves in and out. Molly tasting it, her veil up. Sister? Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker's daughter. It was a nun they say invented barbed wire.

"Kansell" = can sell (marketing neologism)

40yo Agnes Keogh was the daughter of a pawnbroker named Claffey (was another daughter a nun?) [more?]
64yo Maria Powell was the Carmelite prioress in 1901
"Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel" = 16 July

Margaret Claffey was 38yo nun on Eccles street in 1901 (cf 1911) [more]

view east pic, north

fd: [305]

He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Rover cycleshop. Those races are on today. How long ago is that? Year Phil Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. Wait: was in Thom's. Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Six years. Ten years ago: ninetyfour he died, yes that's right, the big fire at Arnott's. Val Dillon was lord mayor. The Glencree dinner. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the flag fell, Bobbob lapping it for the inner alderman. Couldn't hear what the band played. For what we have already received may the Lord make us. Milly was a kiddy then. Molly had that elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. She didn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore it choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Flies' picnic too. Never put a dress on her back like it. Fitted her like a glove, shoulders and hips. Just beginning to plump it out well. Rabbit pie we had that day. People looking after her.

crossing west to east?
big wind, big fire, big flood? big earthquake??

55yo in 1901

67yo in 1901

"braided frogs" = fancy buttons
Flies' picnic

Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper, Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Milly's tubbing night. American soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny she looked soaped all over. Shapely too. Now photography. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste.

Molly will also remember the wallpaper: "the wallpaper in Lombard street was much nicer"
The schemata include "The seductive daughter" as a 'Person' in this episode

He walked along the curbstone.

Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes, woman. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is getting. Pen...? Of course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably. Well, if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day.

p58 (Citron)
p117 (Monks)



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Thursday, August 28, 2014

Page 147 (8.102-141) "If he? ...inkeraser"

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If he...?



No... No.

No, no. I don't believe it. He wouldn't surely?

No, no.

Mr Bloom moved forward raising his troubled eyes. Think no more about that. After one. Timeball on the ballast office is down. Dunsink time. Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never exactly understood. There's a priest. Could ask him. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Met him pikehoses she called it till I told her about the transmigration. O rocks!

looking southwest (insets look NW) 19thC
descended at 12:35 local time (1pm GMT) [timeball history]
StreetView now
Ball on parallax

Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballast office. She's right after all. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound. She's not exactly witty. Can be rude too. Blurt out what I was thinking. Still, I don't know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone voice. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing into a barrel. Now, isn't that wit? They used to call him big Ben. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Appetite like an albatross. Get outside of a baron of beef. Powerful man he was at stowing away number one Bass. Barrel of Bass. See? it all works out.

"barreltone" history

fd: [304]

A procession of whitesmocked men marched slowly towards him along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Bargains. Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H.E.L.Y.S. Wisdom Hely's. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Our staple food. Three bob a day, walking along the gutters, street after street. Just keep skin and bone together, bread and skilly. They are not Boyl: no: M'Glade's men. Doesn't bring in any business either. I suggested to him about a transparent show cart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blotting paper. I bet that would have caught on. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once. Everyone dying to know what she's writing. Get twenty of them round you if you stare at nothing. Have a finger in the pie. Women too. Curiosity. Pillar of salt, Wouldn't have it of course because he didn't think of it himself first. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a false stain of black celluloid. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. You can't lick 'em. What? Our envelopes. Hello, Jones, where are you going? Can't stop, Robinson, I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser

"skilly" = skillygalee (gruel)
44yo in 1901, 45yo in 1911???

43yo in 1901



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Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Page 146 (8.64-101) "That is how... burning him."

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That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts. Solemn.

(many exceptions)

Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit
Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth.
Hamlet I.v "I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night"

 — Two apples a penny! Two for a penny!

1p in 1904 = 50 cents today

His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand. Australians they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them up with a rag or a handkerchief.

"serried" = in rows like soldiers

Wait. Those poor birds.

He halted again and bought from the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into the Liffey. See that? The gulls swooped silently two, then all, from their heights, pouncing on prey. Gone. Every morsel.

mincemeat filling (dried fruit)

Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. They never expected that. Manna. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have, all sea birds, gulls, seagoose. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. No accounting for tastes. Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Robinson Crusoe had to live on them.

fd: [303]

They wheeled, flapping weakly. I'm not going to throw any more. Penny quite enough. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. They spread foot and mouth disease too. If you cram a turkey, say, on chestnut meal it tastes like that. Eat pig like pig. But then why is it that saltwater fish are not salty? How is that?

foot-and-mouth spreads easily but gulls aren't documented vectors

pigs are considered too 'unclean' to eat for many religions, especially Judaism

pondering generalisations-and-exceptions is very aristotelian (modern biochemistry finally puts such things in perspective)

Gulls Only Interested in Man's Bread [Onion]

His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.


11 shillings in 1904 is $70 today


Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can you own water really? It's always flowing in a stream, never the same, which in the stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All kind of places are good for ads. That quack doctor for the clap used to be stuck up in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks. Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for that matter on the q.t. running in to loosen a button. Flybynight. Just the place too. POST NO BILLS. POST 110 PILLS. Some chap with a dose burning him.

Ellmann: 'Professor Maginni, the dark, middle-aged dancing master of North Great George's Street. Everyone knew his costume of tailcoat and dark grey trousers, silk hat, immaculate high collar with wings, gardenia in buttonhole, spats on mincing feet, and a silver-mounted, silk umbrella in hand.'

45yo in 1901

'greenhouse' (urinal) in 1969



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Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Page 145 (8.28-63) "Dedalus'... waters dull."

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Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auction rooms. Must be selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father. Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That's in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you out of house and home. No families themselves to feed. Living on the fat of the land. Their butteries and larders. I'd like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the altar. A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of her. Never pick it out of her. Like getting £.s.d. out of him. Does himself well. No guests. All for number one. Watching his water. Bring your own bread and butter. His reverence: mum's the word.

Dillon's became Sheeran's auction rooms [1963 pic]

"Lobbing" see also p69 "Those Cinghalese lobbing around in the sun"

Bloom's guess is impressively close:
14 kids? miscarriage 1881, Jim 1882, miscarriage 1883, Poppie 1884, Stannie 1884, miscarriage 1885, Charlie 1886, Georgie 1887, Eileen 1889, May 1890, Eva 1891, Florrie 1892, Baby 1893, Freddie 1894

"collation" = a light meal allowed during a fast (literally 'conference')

'Bring your own tea and sugar, Bring your own bread and butter, But you'll come to the wedding, Won't you come?' [song]

fd: [302]

Good Lord, that poor child's dress is in flitters. Underfed she looks too. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. It's after they feel it. Proof of the pudding. Undermines the constitution.

cf ALP in FW p7: "Whatif she be in flags or flitters, reekierags or sundyechosies..."

"marge" = oleomargarine, a recently invented butter substitute

Stephen must feel some guilt for not stepping in as family breadwinner
Bloom blames the Church's stance on birth control

As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours it, I heard.

barge 1908

Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see the brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter, wonderful. Rats get in too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. Imagine drinking that! Rats: vats. Well of course if we knew all the things.

Guinness brewery 1895

Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt quay walls, gulls. Rough weather outside. If I threw myself down? Reuben J's son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. One and eightpence too much. Hhhhm. It's the droll way he comes out with the things. Knows how to tell a story too.

"Hhhhm" is a very odd spelling (inquiring?). SD and LB normally think "Hm", while Zoe will say the more conventional "Hmmm!" once

They wheeled lower. Looking for grub. Wait.

view east: pic

He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Not a bit. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of swells, floated under by the bridge piers. Not such damn fools. Also the day I threw that stale cake out of the Erin's King picked it up in the wake fifty yards astern. Live by their wits. They wheeled, flapping.

"Not a bit" = not fooled by paper

"Erin's King" italicised on p64
FW note: "LB never forget trip on Erin's King (C.S.P.)." (CS Parnell was called Ireland's uncrowned king) The real boat was an old tub that charged a shilling each to take people on a 2hr tour round the Kish lightship

The hungry famished gull
Flaps o'er the waters dull.

Bloom's hunger (and low bloodsugar?) dulls his poetic imagination



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Monday, August 25, 2014

Page 144 (8.1-27) "Pineapple... along Bachelor’s walk."

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Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch.

pineapple rock

lemon platt

A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne, sucking red jujubes white.

(church and crown)
Christian Brothers wore cassocks and took vows of poverty

Bloom is across the street from Mooney's, and a little south

1963 looking nw
StreetView now

undignified image
(did they really turn white?)
the 1862 street directory said "Lemon, Graham, and Co. wholesale
confection, lozenge, and comfit manufacturers to the Queen and Castle"

A sombre Y.M.C.A. young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom.

Graham Lemon and Co. dated back to 1851
Queen Victoria favored them

Heart to heart talks.

(headline on throwaway, presumably, but not italicised)

Bloo... Me? No.

(everyone does this, right?) cf SD p135 "Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he say about me? Don't ask."

Blood of the Lamb.

His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Are you saved? All are washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druid's altars. Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie, restorer of the church in Zion, is coming.

(Dowie was in Europe all week)

Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!!
All heartily welcome.
Paying game. Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy. His wife will put the stopper on that.

Torrey and Alexander visited Dublin in 1904
Dowie wasn't accused of 'polygamous teaching' until 1906

Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix? Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall, hanging. Pepper's ghost idea. Iron Nails Ran In.

"to retain the brilliancy of the Corpus expose it to the sun or electric light occasionally"
the original Pepper's ghost used a glass pane as reflector

Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to the pantry in the kitchen. Don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush out. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of Spain. Before Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. Very good for the brain.

(why isn't there a simple photo of this fishglow?)

"large, high-quality, sweet raisins with seeds"
(LB as Molly's devoted servant)

From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.

StreetView now


c1897 (looking east not west)
from farther west? pic



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