Page 96 (6.444-482) "over slime... will out."

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<

over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs.

p41 "A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough."
p46 illustrated both meanings of "carrion dog": a live carrion-sniffing dog attracted to dead-dog carrion
p94 "Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla."


Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or cycle down. Hire some old crock, safety. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady's. Developing waterways. James M'Cann's hobby to row me o'er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. 
 

[larger] (7hrs by bike)

safety 'crock' (old bike)

McCann had died in February, after an idealistic campaign to renovate the canals as an alternative to the rail monopoly [more]

"row us o’er the ferry"
"To heaven by water"
the straw hat and cargo of turf echo the Bugaboo lyrics


They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now.

(on left)
StreetView now (sp 'Boru')
1909 map




— I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said.

— Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said.

— How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping I suppose.

— Though lost to sight, Mr Dedalus said, to memory dear.

see "Grace"
[sheetmusic]


The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

StreetView now

fd (jump to 4:30): [262]

The stonecutter's yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing. Fragments of shapes, hewn. In white silence: appealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor.

now Farrell & Son? StreetView now
[more]

white silence


Passed.

On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary the sexton's an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. After life's journey.

[more]

(i can picture-- but can't find-- a sentimental painting on this theme. just an artistic echo of hovering death)

Gloomy gardens then went by, one by one: gloomy houses.

Mr Power pointed.

— That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house.

(to their right, if JP sees it first he should be at 5:00)
1899 (Childs was 76yo)
StreetView now


— So it is, Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off. Murdered his brother. Or so they said.

(how complete a catalog of hell-sins have we gotten? suicide, murder, non-contrition, stillbirth...?)


— The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said.



— Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That's the maxim of the law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be wrongfully condemned.

cf? p41 "Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere."


They looked. Murderer's ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully condemned. Murder. The murderer's image in the eye of the murdered. They love reading about it. Man's head found in a garden. Her clothing consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. Murder will out.

cf p90? "Four bootlaces for a penny." (maybe some internal symmetry)

'Bloom here is intuitively practicing one of Joyce's own composition strategies-- collecting phrases that convey a characteristic literary style/ voice. (in the FW notebook called 'Scribbledehobble' the lengthy section for Eumeus is almost entirely phrases from Dublin courtroom journalism.)' [cite]

>

mysteries:


[DD 00:52-03:26]
[DD 00:00-01:53]

[IM 31:01-34:07]

[LV1 34:40-38:00]

[LV2 30:55-33:50]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

Page 95 (6.406-443) "municipal... reeds,"

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municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know. Run the line out to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all. Don't you see what I mean?

French hearse tram

— O, that be damned for a story, Mr Dedalus said. Pullman car and saloon diningroom.



— A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power added.



— Why? Mr Bloom asked, turning to Mr Dedalus. Wouldn't it be more decent than galloping two abreast?



— Well, there's something in that, Mr Dedalus granted.

fd: [260]

— And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn't have scenes like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin onto the road.



— That was terrible, Mr Power's shocked face said, and the corpse fell about the road. Terrible!



— First round Dunphy's, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Gordon Bennett cup.

(SiD's Wake-worthy punning of first round of drinks, race funeral round Dunphy's corner, and auto race?)


— Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously.



Bom! Upset. A coffin bumped out onto the road. Burst open. Paddy Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too large for him. Red face: grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what's up now. Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides decompose quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yes, also. With wax. The sphincter loose. Seal up all.

"brown habit" = lay Franciscan?


— Dunphy's, Mr Power announced as the carriage turned right.

(on their right)


Dunphy's corner. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. A pause by the wayside. Tiptop position for a pub. Expect we'll pull up here on the way back to drink his health. Pass round the consolation. Elixir of life.

StreetView now
1909 map


But suppose now it did happen. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the knocking about? He would and he wouldn't, I suppose. Depends on where. The circulation stops. Still some might ooze out of an artery. It would be better to bury them in red: a dark red.

since 1902 Joyce's family had been living a block west of here, at 7 St Peter's terrace, Cabra [1909 map]

fd: [261]

In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. An empty hearse trotted by, coming from the cemetery: looks relieved.


Crossguns bridge: the royal canal.

StreetView now
aka Westmoreland Bridge 1909 map


Water rushed roaring through the sluices. A man stood on his dropping barge between clamps of turf. On the towpath by the lock a slacktethered horse. Aboard of the Bugabu.

"dropping barge" (the water level is lowered by opening the sluices)
The Bugaboo lyrics


Their eyes watched him. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds,

"Their eyes" = the funeral party
"him... he" = man on barge
"haulage ropes" (the canal route doesn't flow naturally)
"reeds" cf p93 (suicide) "Found in the riverbed clutching rushes"

cf Hamlet I.v "duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf"

>

mysteries:


[DD 00:31-03:30]
[DD 00:00-00:52]

[IM 28:22-31:01]

[LV1 31:36-34:40]

[LV2 28:15-30:55]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

Page 94 (6.367-405) "We are going... is to have"

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— We are going the pace, I think, Martin Cunningham said.

cf p49? "a pace a pace a porpoise"


— God grant he doesn't upset us on the road, Mr Power said.


— I hope not, Martin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow in Germany. The Gordon Bennett.

1904 Gordon Bennett Cup


— Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeing, faith.

funeral on Berkeley street c1900

fd: [258]

As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has anybody here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from Saul. He's as bad as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette!

StreetView now
1909 map

streetorgan [video]

streetorgan:

Basin-to-Berkeley = 400ft


♬ Dead March (sounds similar??)
♬ Oh! Oh! Antonio


The Mater Misericordiae. Eccles street. My house down there.

(all to the right)
(why the italics here? should it be 'æ'?)


Big place. Ward for incurables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady's Hospice for the dying. Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died. They look terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Nice young student that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He's gone over to the lying-in hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other.

StreetView now


The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped.

StreetView now
1909 map


— What's wrong now?


A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear.

cattle on Gt Denmark street in the 1960s: pic (where?)


— Emigrants, Mr Power said.

(being shipped out of Ireland)


— Huuuh! the drover's voice cried, his switch sounding on their flanks. Huuuh! out of that!

cf? p46 "Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!"

fd: [259]

Thursday of course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roast beef for old England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter is lost: all that raw stuff, hide, hair, horns. Comes to a big thing in a year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla.

£27 in 1904 = $3500 today
(springing heifers are around $2000 these days? wouldn't this be for dairy not slaughter?)

♬ The Roast Beef of Old England

fifth quarter
"hair, horns" cf p84 "I believe they clip the nails and the hair. Keep a bit in an envelope"
rotting-meat motif


The carriage moved on through the drove.



— I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the parkgate to the quays, Mr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the boats.



— Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. Quite right. They ought to.



— Yes, Mr Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have

>

mysteries:


[DD 00:05-03:17]
[DD 00:00-00:31]

[IM 25:39-28:22]

[LV1 28:33-31:36]

[LV2 25:39-28:15]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

Page 93 (6.331-366-) "Poor little... stones."

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— Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus said. It's well out of it.


The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle his bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns.

1915 funeral

StreetView now
1909 map
"Rattle his bones over the stones; He’s only a pauper, whom nobody owns" [lyrics] [♬] cf p85


— In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham said.

fd: [256]

— But the worst of all, Mr Power said, is the man who takes his own life.


Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly, coughed and put it back.


— The greatest disgrace to have in the family, Mr Power added.


— Temporary insanity, of course, Martin Cunningham said decisively. We must take a charitable view of it.

analysis


— They say a man who does it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said.


— It is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said.



Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his lips again. Martin Cunningham's large eyes. Looking away now. Sympathetic human man he is. Intelligent. Like Shakespeare's face. Always a good word to say.

They have no mercy on that here or infanticide. Refuse christian burial. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. As if it wasn't broken already. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Found in the riverbed clutching rushes. He looked at me. And that awful drunkard of a wife of his. Setting up house for her time after time and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Leading him the life of the damned. Wear the heart out of a stone, that. Monday morning start afresh. Shoulder to the wheel.

"here" (spoken like an outsider)

Kane's wife was nothing like this

Homer's Odysseus sees Sisyphus in Hades
Hamlet IV.vii


Lord, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was in there. Drunk about the place and capering with Martin's umbrella:

And they call me the jewel of Asia,
Of Asia,
The geisha.

Jump to 7:20:

♬lyrics sheetmusic: 1, 2 [wiki]


He looked away from me. He knows. Rattle his bones.

fd: [257]

That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blind. The coroner's ears, big and hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep first. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son Leopold.

Bloom jumbles others' testimony (the coroner, the 'boots' who discovered the body) with things he saw himself


No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns.


The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Over the stones.

StreetView now
1909 map

>

mysteries:


[DD 03:43-03:50]
[DD 00:00-03:41]
[DD 00:00-00:05]

[IM 22:51-25:39]

[LV1 25:34-28:33]

[LV2 23:07-25:39]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

Page 92 (6.292-330) "Mr Power's... next time."

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<

Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage.

fd: [253]

Nelson's pillar.

info

1909 map
StreetView now


— Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny!

women selling flowers at base of Nelson's Pillar c1900

cf SD's improvised parable in the next episode [etext]


— We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said.


Mr Dedalus sighed.



— Ah, then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a laugh. Many a good one he told himself.



— The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and he was in his usual health that I'd be driving after him like this. He's gone from us.



— As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went very suddenly.



— Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart.



He tapped his chest sadly.



Blazing face: redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colouring it.

1918 notebook: "Elpenor - face of light"
"adelite" is someone's mistake for 'adelaide' (purple) (maybe adelaide + aconite, the poison Rudolph used?)


Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.



— He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said.



— The best death, Mr Bloom said.



Their wide open eyes looked at him.

Bloom forgets that Catholics prefer time for contrition


— No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.



No-one spoke.

fd: [254]

Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college, Gill's, catholic club, the industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or wind. At night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the late Father Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart.

(all sites on left side)

Falconer's railway guide

the 1911 census counted 21 industrious blind [pdf]

Father Mathew

c1905 looking south

1909 map

fd: [255]

White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner, galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for a nun.

Rotunda c1900

StreetView now

c1913

— Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child.



A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Dwarf's body, weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it's healthy it's from the mother. If not from the man. Better luck next time.

(based on Nora's 1908 miscarriage)
"Meant nothing" (to read it as punishment would be immature superstition)

>

mysteries:


[DD 04:18-04:24]
[DD 00:00-03:43]

[IM 20:11-22:51]

[LV1 22:38-25:34]

[LV2 20:33-23:07]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

Page 91 (6.254-291) "In all his... drily."

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— In all his pristine beauty, Mr Power said.

Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly:

— The devil break the hasp of your back!

JSJ owed Dodd money.
Dodd was actually Catholic.
(SiD ought to be at 11:00 or maybe 1:00)


Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face from the window as the carriage passed Gray's statue.

StreetView now
1909 map


— We have all been there, Martin Cunningham said broadly.

His eyes met Mr Bloom's eyes. He caressed his beard, adding:

— Well, nearly all of us.

even as friendly and polite as MC is toward Bloom, he still distrusts his 'Jewish' other-ness
(suggests MC and LB are not side by side)


Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions' faces.


— That's an awfully good one that's going the rounds about Reuben J and the son.

Bloom desperately wants to distance himself from MC's suspicions

the Dodds in 1901, signature-pdf


— About the boatman? Mr Power asked.

cf Charon, boatman of Hades


— Yes. Isn't it awfully good?

— What is that? Mr Dedalus asked. I didn't hear it.

— There was a girl in the case, Mr Bloom began, and he determined to send him to the Isle of Man out of harm's way but when they were both...

Bloom completely lacks the Irish knack for storytelling


— What? Mr Dedalus asked. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it?

"hobbledehoy" = awkward youth
actually 25 in 1904, 32 when the story really happened (supposedly Joyce's 3yrs-older classmate at (Catholic) Belvedere)

fd: [252]

— Yes, Mr Bloom said. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried to drown...

— Drown Barabbas! Mr Dedalus cried. I wish to Christ he did!

buhRABbus


Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils.

("shaded"?)


— No, Mr Bloom said, the son himself...

cf Haines confusion p18


Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely:

— Reuben J and the son were piking it down the quay next the river on their way to the Isle of Man boat and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the wall with him into the Liffey.

(any guesses where the wall might have been? cf Burgh quay)


— For God' sake! Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Is he dead?

puzzling contrast


— Dead! Martin Cunningham cried. Not he! A boatman got a pole and fished him out by the slack of the breeches and he was landed up to the father on the quay. More dead than alive. Half the town was there.

(this contradicts the report that says the rescuer dove in and suffered health problems)


— Yes, Mr Bloom said. But the funny part is...


— And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said, gave the boatman a florin for saving his son's life.

Ellmann quotes the 1911 source-article in full:
The Irish Worker, 2 December 1911: "Half-a-Crown for Saving a Life: On August the 26th of this year a solicitor named Reuben Jas. Dodd jumped into the Liffey close to the Butt Bridge. Whatever his motive— suicide or otherwise— we care not. After swimming around to cool himself he became exhausted; a lifebuoy was thrown him, but he was unable to help himself. A docker who was passing at the time hearing the commotion, asked 'what's up?' 'Man drowning,' was the answer, and without a moment's hesitation he jumped in and brought Dodd, solicitor, to the steps, where another docker and a carter lifted Dodd up the steps on to the quay wall. The inevitable policeman then appeared, and Dodd was taken to Jervis Street Hospital, and from there to the house of detention. The father of this Dodd, solicitor, was walking up and down the quay whilst this episode was being enacted, and as a matter of fact had been talking to his son, Dodd, solicitor, previous to him deciding to test the recuperative benefits of Anna Liffey. Now, what of the man who rescued Dodd, eh? He is only a common docker named Moses Goldin, who during the last few years saved some twenty lives. Goldin has a wife and four children to keep. He has been suffering from pulmonary trouble for some time past, brought on by the exposure he submitted himself to in his successful efforts to rescue life. Dodd was taken to hospital on a motor car. Moses Goldin, who saved his life, walked home to his slum. His poor old mother, who minds his children whilst the other heroine— his wife— goes out to earn a few shillings in a sack factory, went out to a publican close by to borrow a shirt so that Goldin might change his clothes. Owing to want of attention Goldin had to go to hospital; whilst lying there his wife lost a day's work and wages amounting to 1s., and went and saw Mr. Dodd, senior. After some delay he condescended to see her, and very kindly told Mrs. Goldin that her husband should have minded his own business. After other fatherly advice he gave Mrs. Goldin 2s.6d. to assist her. Goldin lay in hospital some weeks. He lost his health and wages and got 2s.6d. for saving Dodd, solicitor. It wasn't worth it; was it? Goldin himself did not get thank you. I don't know if the policeman who came up after it was all over got a certificate and recommended promotion or not. We would like to ask what the local hon. sec. to the Royal Humane Society is doing; Goldin also asks. I hope the readers of this paper will ask. Some lives Goldin saved— J. M'Allister and C. Rielly— died after rescue. P. Ryan, W . Hanly, J. Gorman; these persons were all taken to Jervis street and Mercer's Hospital; others rescued taken home; and last, but least, Dodd, solicitor, for which life Goldin's wife got 2s.6d. Mr. Dodd thinks his son is worth half-a-crown. We wouldn't give that amount for a whole family of Dodds."


A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's hand.


— O, he did, Martin Cunningham affirmed. Like a hero. A silver florin.


— Isn't it awfully good? Mr Bloom said eagerly.

1919 Cyclops notesheet: "the jew hates the jew in the jew"


— One and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus said drily.

>

mysteries:


[DD 01:22-04:18]

[IM 18:02-20:11]

[LV1 20:11-22:38]

[LV2 18:15-20:33]


hades: 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

[Comparing Ulysses-annotation projects]

                    Reeve Genius Hunt InfU  UPgs (links imgs maps)
      1 Telemachus   304   200   200  103   543   286    54    1
          2 Nestor    91    76   108   62   214   126    22    0
         3 Proteus   272   244   207   34   196   172    24    0
         4 Calypso   117    52    22   45   187   130    39    0
     5 Lotuseaters   186    36    23   41   320   260    57    0
           6 Hades   227   103    60   39   466   368    61   11
           7 Eolus   334   113    39   14   419   279    77    3
   8 Lestrygonians   472    81    35    6   421   417   143    2
9 Scylla&Charybdis   737   284    46   16   366   247    48    2
 10 WanderingRocks   355     6    29  141   914   565   151    3
         11 Sirens   254   109    19   15   327   139    37    2
        12 Cyclops   235    38    46   38   532   343   127    4
       13 Nausikaa   149    24    23   20   120   125    40    0
   14 OxenoftheSun    32    70    69   31   287   148    67    0
          15 Circe   335    13   128   11     -     -     -    -
         16 Eumeus     -    32    26    6     -     -     -    -
         17 Ithaca     -    11    50   54     -     -     -    -
       18 Penelope   349   106    37   10     -     -     -    -
total               4440  1598  1167  686  5312  3605   947   28

[I'll probably pause the Ulysses annotations here for a while, while Frank Delaney catches up. Since new visitors will see this page first, I'll try doing a survey here of the various annotations projects, arbitrarily favoring p82 to see how they handle Throwaway spoilers. (Only the rarest of readers could have caught the reference immediately.)
Groden coincidentally chose the same passage, and enumerates eight possible hypertext formats]

The standard book of annotations by Gifford and Seidman gives away all details of the race and the tip. It includes no images (or songs). They use Gabler's linenumbers, plus a post-1922 edition. GoogleBooks allows linking to most pages.

The earlier standard by Thornton skips the page completely. Groden adds that, in their endnotes, Declan Kiberd offers a greater spoiler than Jeri Johnson.

Slote withholds any spoilers, but introduces a wholly new pagination with tiny Gabler-crossrefs only after each endnote, and some dozen unsightly marginal numbers on each page, for those endnotes.

Wikibooks hasn't reached this page but allows user input, discussion, and links, with the 1922 pagination.

Aida Yared's images include the Ascot racecard. There's an email address for comments.

Samuel Schiminovich/Jon Reeve experiments with several designs but for Throwaway just two letters are highlighted with a popup textballoon when you hover, with a short spoiler. Each chapter gets one webpage, but there are indexpoints every ten lines. Email addresses for feedback can be found by trimming the urls.

Barger included links about the race, with Gabler's linenumbers, one webpage per chapter with indexpoints approximately every 50 lines, with the chapter text in an optional frame. The contact email and discussion page are expired.

Hunt's Joyce Project has started the chapter but not yet reached the page. We can anticipate highlighted text, with a popup that spills the beans freely, probably with pix and links. Linking chapters is tricky, but linking the popups alone is easy. There's a link to a form for feedback, with the promise of a discussion forum.

Amanda Visconti's UlyssesUlysses is stalled at ch2 but shows highlighted phases that show marginal notes when hovered over. One webpage per chapter, no indexpoints. Her successor app will be called Infinite Ulysses. Contacting her is a challenge.

RapGenius allows you to add notes, images, and links in popup annotations, with one page per episode. The interface is fun but the community can be vicious, can't be trusted.