A pictorial representation of my mind and ULYSSES

I am coming to the conclusion...

...that ULYSSES is either the impregnable object or the irrefragable force. Or both.

ULYSSES recommended reading for children.

The Royal Society of Literature Magazine has asked prominent children's authors which ten books children should read before they leave school. UK's poet laureate, Andrew Motion, believes that ULYSSES should be one of them.

In which case I suspect they'd never be leaving school

Helpful hints from Segur

Segaro 95.20, in his comments to my second to last post below (well, third to last now) has these helpful hints--I'm off to re-read this section with this new information in hand to see how things fall into place and what I missed the first time around. Thanks, s.


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Hint 1: the singer is Simon Dedalus, Stephen's father.

Hint 2: Blazes Boylan is having an affair with Molly, Bloom's wife - in fact, he is on his way to see her now at their house on Eccles Street. All the 'Jingle jaunty' references are about Boylan on his journey across town to see Molly.

Hint 3: if you can get a map of the city and try to follow the routes of the respective characters, that might help a little.

Hint 4: Remember that Simon's wife - Stephen's mother - has recently died. Which gives poignancy to his rendition of the song Martha My Dear. At the climax of the song: 'Come...to me' there is an extraordinary moment of sadness and loss: Bloom has been thinking about his wife with Boylan, while Simon is thinging about his dead wife. (Simon sees Bloom earlier in the scene and asks his companion about Bloom's wife - he has forgotten her name and asks "Is she still alive?" Simon and companion speak admiringly about Molly and the inference is that that Mrs Bloom (Nee Marion Tweedy) is free with her affections.

And just after the climax of the song "...to me!" we get:

Siopold!
Consumed.

Leopold and Simon brought together by the song in mourning for their lost loves.

Music is a major theme of this chapter - known as 'The Sirens'.

Happy Birthday, James Joyce

Well, I'm a day late.

Portrait of the Artist as a Baby. "Stately, plump James Joyce came buck naked from his mother's womb, bearing a pen and crying for paper upon which to write a story."

Recovered

I am over the flu. I feel so good that I wonder if I died overnight and was resurrected into incorruptible flesh. Apart from my brain tissue. For ULYSSES is back to being pretty much incomprehensible, at least in the section I'm in. I'd quote a short passage from Bloom's restaurant scene, where he is being serenaded by a pianist and singer and being tortured by a dyslexic muse as he gives us his inner thoughts, but why should I?

Actually, I can pretty much follow each individual sentence. It's the stringing together of them that causes me problems. A form of dyslexia--can I call it ulysslexia?

Best time to read ULYSSES

When one is dizzy with the flu.

It makes more sense.

If I had the bird flu, I daresay I'd be completely enlightened, and would die with some contentment, for I had conquered ULYSSES.

BTW, I know I don't have bird flu, because I don't have its primary symptom, an urge to poop on car windshields.