Page 239 (10.1061-1097) "I'm sorry... Wapping street past"

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— I'm sorry, he said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have lost their balance.


pseudo-intrusion 16BM21:

The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:

— England expects...

rich : poor :: Mulligan and Haines : Stephen and the sailor?

1+ miles north
this pseudo-intrusion is timed only as after the 3:15 sailor's subsection, still just a block away from Molly. The sailor had suffered an intrusion from (apparently shortly) before Ned Lambert's section, and Lambert suffered an apparently 'true' intrusion from John Howard Parnell above, which puts this around 3:20, before Martin Cunningham, probably around the time of the Dedalus kitchen.
but another timing clue is that BM and Haines will still be here when the cavalcade passes around 3:30. so Joyce is tempting us to time the whole section later.


Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.



— You should see him, he said, when his body loses its balance. Wandering Ængus I call him.

(Joyce eliminated such distracting ligatures from Finnegans Wake: he'd probably opt for Aengus over AEngus or Engus)
nobody seems to pronounce it EEngus (Angus or Ingus)


— I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, pinching his chin thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it would be likely to be. Such persons always have.



Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.



— They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will never capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburne, of all poets, the white death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a poet. The joy of creation...

Mulligan is trying to bury Stephen, whose poet's soul threatens him (art-as-moral vs art-as-amoral?)


— Eternal punishment, Haines said, nodding curtly. I see. I tackled him this morning on belief. There was something on his mind, I saw. It's rather interesting because Professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of that.

anachronism from 1916/1933 [info]

Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to unload her tray.

did he miss lunch? or drink it at the Ship?


— He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny, of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does he write anything for your movement?

Haines is oblivious to "the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church"
"your" not 'our' movement


He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream. Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily.

(is Joyce indulging his rage here?)

— Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write something in ten years.

(ten years of desperate poverty)


— Seems a long way off, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon. Still, I shouldn't wonder if he did after all.

driven by the idee fixe? (cf SD on Haines "the cold gaze which had measured him was not all unkind")


He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup.



— This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I don't want to be imposed on.

ie, real Irish imposing on poser-Irish with fake Irish?
cf p12: "O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove milk."


pseudo-intrusion 16BM54:

Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past

[map]
this should be long after the throwaway's intrusion on the Dedalus kitchen section, and somewhat after its intrusion on Kernan just before he misses the cavalcade, but here it seems to be after Kitty de-twigs and before the cavalcade passes the DBC.

>

mysteries:


[DD]
[IM]
[LV1]
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