Friday, November 7, 2014

Page 261 (11.602-639) "No, Simon... Call name."

editions: [1922] [html] [archv]
notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [0] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]


— No, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat.

The keys, obedient, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused.

"told" = revealed?

cf JAJ's embarrassment losing a singing competition because he couldn't sightread

Up stage strode Father Cowley.


— Here, Simon. I'll accompany you, he said. Get up.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingle jogged. Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drank Power and cider.

Bloom's imagining Boylan's progress, using landmarks noted in earlier episodes

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: Sonnambula. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ah, what M'Guckin! Yes. In his way. Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like. Never forget it. Never.


Barton McGuckin

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. Backache he. Bright's bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying the piper. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Stave it off awhile. Sings too: Down among the dead men. Appropriate. Kidney pie. Sweets to the. Not making much hand of it. Best value in. Characteristic of him. Power. Particular about his drink. Flaw in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Fecking matches from counters to save. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. And when he's wanted not a farthing. Screwed refusing to pay his fare. Curious types.


"Next item on the programme" (cf Rochford's invention)

"Not making much hand of it" = not getting much profit

"Flaw in the glass" (did LB see RG send a glass back? the phrase is mostly used by astronomers)

Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived, never. In the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note.

a different Peake was in the obits

Speech paused on Richie's lips.

Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all. Believes his own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good memory.

— Which air is that? asked Leopold Bloom.

All is lost now.

Tutto e sciolto

Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. A thrush. A throstle. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two notes in one there. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. All most too new call is lost in all. Echo. How sweet the answer. How is that done? All lost now. Mournful he whistled. Fall, surrender, lost.

RG whistles (beautifully) a bit of Sonnambula

banshees foretell death

RG sweet breath, Cowley bad breath


(Joyce is teasing us with LB's version of the very principles Joyce is using in this chapter)

Joyce wrote a poetic tribute to the air

Bloom bent leopold ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. In sleep she went to him. Innocence in the moon. Still hold her back. Brave, don't know their danger. Call name.

"doyley" is a very rare variant of doily, maybe to evoke the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company?




sirens: 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279

No comments:

Post a Comment