So, welcome to Ulysses! Now that you've completed the "Telemachia" you can begin Ulysses proper. Yeah, I know, you thought you started Ulysses one hundred something pages ago in the Martello Tower with Stephen Dedalus and Buck Mulligan. But that wasn't really Ulysses. I mean, it was Ulysses, but it wasn't Ulysses. Just as Homer's Odyssey really begins when we encounter Odysseus for the first time, on the island of the goddess Calypso, so too does Joyce's Ulysses begin in earnest when we meet Leopold Bloom, in the episode "Calypso".
Many people have asked me what Ulysses is about. My first inclination is always to say, "it's complicated". But really, on a purely textual level, it's very simple: Ulysses is the story of two people who, by coincidence or fate, meet. That's it. Two guys meet. Of course, the book is about much, much more than that, otherwise it would not have attained its legendary status among the canon of "difficult books". Much of what the book is really about lay beneath the text, or as we literati like to say, is subtextual. But at its most basic it is simply the story of a "chance" meeting.
Stephen Dedalus, whom we have already gotten to know fairly well over the first three episodes, is one of our two protagonists. Now we encounter, finally, the other main character, Leopold Bloom. I hope you like him, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with him. We'll skip Bloom's bio -- since you will get that simply by reading the book -- and jump to the important subtextual point: Bloom is the Odysseus of Joyce's epic. This book is, in large part, his story.
Who's he when he's at home?
I have made mention in past blogs of the myriad allusions that populate Ulysses, and how they serve as another of the major (perhaps the major) obstacle to understanding the book. Let's expand on this a little, because it's not only allusions, but metaphors, representations in the form of character associations or stand ins, and other indirect modes of storytelling that complicate the narrative. These literary devices all serve the common purpose of communicating far more information than their surface meanings indicate. As a savvy, well read person, you already know this. But Joyce employs these devices with such frequency and depth that the possible meanings and interpretations of Ulysses expand in every direction, making for a very dense read. Ulysses cannot be read or understood in traditional linear narrative terms. To do so would leave you with a story about two guys who walk around thinking about stuff and then meet at the end of the night, and nothing happens.
"Calypso" gives us a good opportunity to talk about character representations and associations. So, let's do a little representational mathematics. Bloom = Odysseus; Stephen = Telemachus; and the fourth episode is called Calypso. Knowing what you know about Homer's Odyssey, I'll leave you to sum it all up. However, CAUTION! representation in Ulysses, as in any quality work of art, should not be taken too literally, or viewed too directly. You cannot simply do a wholesale swap out of Odysseus for Bloom, with all of the characteristics, strengths, terms and conditions intact. If we did that then Bloom would be tall, muscular, fearless, conniving and silver-tongued, possessing a violent warrior mentality. And this is most certainly not Leopold Bloom. In fact, Joyce has created a Bloom very much in the opposite mold of Homer's hero, but nonetheless he is the Odysseus of Ulysses.
All of the associations in Ulysses are to be seen in loose, fluid terms, which only augments the difficulty in interpreting them. We have Stephen (so far) as Telemachus, "the Bard" (uh, that's Shakespeare), and Hamlet. So how are we to interpret Stephen in light of these associations? The best explanation I can give you is that knowing the broader context of the action in both the Odyssey and Ulysses (as well as in the Bible, and Hamlet, and world history, and the history of Western literature, and church history, and Irish history etc.) will help to clarify how and why certain personages are associated with particular characters.
Their are a mountain of associations assigned to the mountain of characters that populate Ulysses, and a given character will have any number of personages from history or literature associated with him or her. Also, characters my share an association or representation, so just because Stephen will be associated with Shakespeare doesn't preclude, say... Bloom for example, from also being associated with the bard. Your task is to figure out how these representations shape the characters and the story. When you have surmounted this obstacle, you will have made Ulysses yours.
Aside on "getting" Ulysses:
I cannot repeat this enough, (and I know you don't want to hear this), but the best way to understand Ulysses is to finish the book, and then read it again with a guide book. The second reading is where characters and their associations really become apparent. This isn't to say that this can't happen to some degree during your first reading, and no doubt it will for many of you. But until you know the full arc of the story you won't be able to make complete sense of the finer points of the narrative.
The second best way to understand the subtext is to read the book with others and discuss it as you go along. If you can manage to talk more about the actual text and less about what a pain in the ass it is to read these dense prose, you will actually get a lot out of the book. You might find this hard to believe, but that one friend who seems like an absolute dolt (probably because he is one 90 percent of the time) will actually offer some amazing insights when given the chance. Epiphanies often spring from the most idiotic suggestions. What I'm saying is don't automatically dismiss your friends (or yourself) because you think they're nit smart enough. Reading Ulysses is not about being smart, it's about being curious.
About the text proper
What can I tell you about "Calypso" that the text itself doesn't tell you? Well, probably a lot. The better question is what can I tell you without giving away any of the important mysteries.
Okay, here's something: the most critical element as regards L. Bloom is introduced in this episode. But Joyce, true to form, drops it so subtly that it will certainly go completely unnoticed by you careful reader. At some point, far up the road, in some later episode this piece of critical information will become apparent to you, and you will be left to ask yourself "when did that little tidbit get introduced!? How could I have possibly missed that!?"
I struggled with whether or not I should just state plainly what the major issues confronting Stephen and Bloom are since they pretty much shape the whole story, but the prime directive does not allow me to do that. The reason I am even mentioning this at all, is because knowing this information goes a very long way in understanding Bloom's and Stephen's states of mind as they make their way through June 16th 1904, and because it helps PUT THE ENTIRE BOOK IN PERSPECTIVE!
Alright, I'm dancing pretty close to the line of the prime directive by giving you this next piece of information, but I think I am still within bounds: There are two MAJOR issues, one for each main character respectively, that shapes their respective days march across Dublin, and drives the books narrative to it's point of climax and through to it's resolution. When you can identify these two issues, you will have begun the process of understanding (at least by my reckoning) what this book is all about.
With that hint I send you off, like Aeolus sent Odysseus off, with a bag of wind, to make your way home.
~ cg
Raw Notes:
• "Wonder what I look like to her?" - compare with Stephen's "as he and others see me" in ep.1
• "...and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled."
• "...he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there."
• "Potato I have."
• "He crossed to the bright side of the street." -- Wearing Black clothes. Just sayin'...
• "Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day's march."
• "Turko the terrible." -- that sounds familiar?
• "Color of Molly's new garters"
• "in the track of the sun."
• Bloom imitating Simon Deadalus' voice in his head
• First mention of Dignam and the funeral
• "The figures whitened in his mind. Displeased he let them fade." -- uncompleted reckoning (like in ep.1)
• "Those mornings in the cattle market. Beasts lowing in their pens..." compare with "Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field... They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle." (ep.1)
• "Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand, lift to the nostrils, and smell the perfume."
• "A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly." -- time marker, parallel... The most direct parallel so far.
• "Metempsychosis... That means transmigration of the soul."
• "Reincarnation: that's the word... Some people believe... that we go on living in another body after death, that we lived before."
• "A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a nagging bottle by the neck"
• Paul de Kock
• "Seaside girls. Torn envelope. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets, jarvey off for the day, singing. Friend of the family. Swurls, he says. Pier with lamps, summer evening, band..."
• "Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman’s lips."
• "Listening, he heard her voice: "Come, come, pussy. Come."
Heigho! Heigho! <--- sound Bloom hears when the church bells chime
Heigho! Heigho!
Heigho! Heigho!
Bloomian wisdom:
"A little anemic. Was given milk too long."
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