Thursday, November 6, 2014

Page 258 (11.485-522) "in the coffee... ate they ate."

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in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh's gave us the number. Remember?

we'll get Bloom's version of this on the next page

Ben remembered, his broad visage wondering.

— By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand.

— Merrion square style. Balldresses, by God, and court dresses. He wouldn't take any money either. What? Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. What?

cf p153: "Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel. Divorced Spanish American. Didn't take a feather out of her my handling them. As if I was her clotheshorse."

— Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus nodded. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions.

Simon uses the same wrong form as Boylan (LB can't hear them, can he?)

left off clothes

Jingle jaunted down the quays. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres.

Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. Right, sir. Right, Pat.

Mrs Marion met him pike hoses. Smell of burn of Paul de Kock. Nice name he.

associations to "kidney"

— What's this her name was? A buxom lassy. Marion...?

— Tweedy.

— Yes. Is she alive?

— And kicking.

— She was a daughter of...

— Daughter of the regiment.

— Yes, begad. I remember the old drummajor.

this solitary mention can't be accurate

Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after

— Irish? I don't know, faith. Is she, Simon?

Puff after stiff, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.

— Buccinator muscle is... What...? Bit rusty... O, she is... My Irish Molly, O.

Joyce's 1910 Trieste notebook observes that JSJ couldn't draw a pipe (well) because of this problem (Latin for 'trumpeter') along with the fingernail-chips above and the dancing-days just below, this confirms Simon's status as a Siren-wrecked skeleton

My Irish Molly, O

He puffed a pungent plumy blast.

— From the rock of Gibraltar... all the way.

They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two, Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent.

she's probably putting the sloegin back with the other cordials, incl maraschino

why give a character's address just here?
address in 1911


Pat served, uncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices. As said before he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.




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