Book Two Episode Eleven: Sirens

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Folly. Persist.

My rule of thumb when writing about anything is to keep it simple: know what you want to say and say it. Of course it stands to reason that the more you know about your subject, the more you can say, and hence the easier it is (or should be) to write about it. To write a blog about Ulysses for first time readers is to write narrowly about the particular episodes, their structures, styles, and the narrative pitfalls one might encounter. But I'm also finding that as we move deeper into the book, piecing together a general understanding of the story is important as well, and this requires us to try and fit particular episodes into the wider framework of the book.

"Sirens" (at least for me) seems to be something of a challenge, for while I know this episode fairly well, I can't quite seem to reconcile it into my understanding of the larger story. If we think about Ulysses as a puzzle and the episodes as individual pieces, then you might say that with "Sirens" I have a piece that I don't quite know what to do with. This is made more complicated because we are marching linearly through the book, so I can't really discuss greater meanings at length without giving away the parts that you have not yet read, thus it becomes difficult to lead you (and myself as well in is case) to some satisfactory understanding of the episode.

Sweeeeeet song

I imagine that many of you have found aspects of "Sirens" difficult since Joyce, in his now predictable fashion, has introduced yet another way of deconventionalizing the conventional narrative. Concerning the narrative I don't want to repeat what has already been said one thousand and one times before by one thousand and one different writers: that structurally "Sirens" is meant to read as a musical piece. But there really isn't anything else to say regarding the structure. If there's one thing that you as a new reader might find challenging in this episode it is this musical aspect of "Sirens".

To repeat past analyses, that conglomeration of clipped phrases which signals the start of "Sirens" is Joyce's equivalent of the warming up of an orchestra: different instruments playing different parts of the total piece at the same time. The cacophony that introduces the episode is meant to coalesce into a melodic oeuvre. Joyce attempts to achieve this by effect playing with elements of the text, staccato repetitions here, rhythmic iambs there, and plenty of onomatopoeia. The host of techniques Joyce invents to attain his goal of a musical episode in prose makes for some "interesting" reading in parts. So, if you're finding some of the wording a bit odd, that's your explanation.

Lash me to the mast 

As I stated in an earlier blog entry, we mustn't be led away by words, or in this case, we mustn't be led astray by music. The technique here, the siren song, can lead us to believe the text is more difficult than it really is. But once again, just like we did in "Aeolus", we can simply read through the oddity of the style and easily discern the what is actually happening. The surface story of "Sirens" is pretty simple, but the technique gives the veneer of complexity. Perhaps Joyce would have us dash or ship against the rocks.

Do not misunderstand my point here. I don't mean to imply that Joyce is throwing these style shifts in simply to serve as obstacles. I imagine that many who have read parts or the whole ofUlysses have suspected this of Joyce, but they could not be more wrong. Despite the difficulty of the text, Joyce did not create these difficulties for their own sakes. All of these textual anomalies, style "experiments", and the myriad allusions and symbolism that make up Ulysses fit into a broader framework. My own suspicion is that while Joyce understood these difficulties as necessary evils, he nonetheless took a perverse pleasure in knowing how difficult the text would be.

Bringing her in to port (or not)

This brings me back to my particular dilemma: finding a place for "Sirens" in the larger context of Ulysses. I think that's what I would really like to write about in this entry, because I think that's where we now are in terms of what we need to help us get through the remainder of the book. Episode structure will continue to need some commentary, but just as the above analysis required relatively little time, so too will the rest of the episodes. Of course, this doesn't mean that the reading gets easier from this point. Quite the opposite. There is some serious turbulence ahead, but nothing that can't be explained in a couple of paragraphs or so (I think).

The bigger issue is making sense of the text. In the last few entries I've been trying to push you into thinking more about meaning instead of simply taking for granted that meaning will come to you. It won't. That being the case, there is some obligation on my end to try and provide some structure to that end.

The ways of the creator...  

I have mentioned in earlier entries that Joyce created a schema (actually two schemata) for Ulysses. The schema can be seen not only as a guide to understanding each episode, but also as a way to integrate the parts to a greater whole. The schema implies connectivity or a larger purpose to the story. I am not suggesting that you can (or should) comb the the schema for answers to the larger meaning of the text -- it ain't in there. But you should take it's existence to mean that each episode -- their respective contents and styles -- has a purpose within the greater organism. And, as we better understand how each particular episode contributes to the whole, we can better understand the meaning of Ulysses.

Raw Notes
I have a hard time incorporating this episode into my broader understanding of the story. It's clear that this is the episode where "the deed" commences, but I'm wondering how that, music, And the wiles and ways of women factor into the bigger picture.

"—Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.
—Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked."

"Means something, language of flow."

"He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car. It is. Again. Third time. Coincidence."

"Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out."

"Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode."

"See the conquering hero comes."

"Bending, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee"

"A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the wind upon the headland, wind around her."

"Too late. She longed to go. That's why. Woman. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost."

"Silly man! Could have made oceans of money. Singing wrong words. Wore out his wife: now sings. But hard to tell. Only the two themselves. "

"Hold on. Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the gulls. Elijah is com. Seven Davy Byrne's. Is eight about. Say half a crown. My poor little pres: p. o. two and six."

"If she found out. Card in my high grade ha. No, not tell all. Useless pain"

"Wish they'd sing more. Keep my mind off."

"Seems to be what you call yashmak..."

Book Two Episode Ten: The Wandering Rocks

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Here Comes Everybody


We have now arrived at the midpoint of the novel and you my be wondering what the point of this particular episode is (or more likely your wondering what the point of the whole book is, but we'll get to that). This is one of only two episodes in the book which does not concern itself directly or extensively with either of the main characters. True, we do encounter both Bloom and Stephen in "The Wandering Rocks" but they are given equal or in some cases lesser airtime than some of the other personages whom we meet, and if it seems as though you are meeting everyone who might live in Dublin circa June 16th 1904, you may not be far off. There appears to be an endless processional of people in this episode.


For some of you this may be a rather dull episode to read through, and I won't pretend it's the most exciting episode in Ulysses, but I suspect that at least it should not be a difficult read for you. Like every other episode in the book "The Wandering Rocks" serves its purpose in fulfilling the greater objective(s) of Ulysses -- which have not yet been made evident to you.


Narratively the episode is more or less straight forward with clear third person descriptions and a bit of interior monologue to weed through. Interestingly, we are treated to a rare glimpse into the thoughts of characters other than Bloom and Stephen. We get a pretty extensive ride along with the superior, the very reverend John Conmee S.J. We also get a good chunk of the mental meanderings of Patrick Aloysius Dignam, son of the late Patrick (Paddy) Dignam, as well as Tom Kiernan, who seems to think very highly of himself. None of these IMs should give you any problems as far as navigating the text, although you may wonder why you are being subjected to them. I have my own theories about why they are here, but I won't burden you with my conjecture. I'll let you make sense of things yourself.


Didn't that happen already?
If, at times, you think you are rereading something you just saw two pages before, you're not crazy*. One the stylistic elements of the episode is the repetition of action within different vignettes. I mean, how many times do we encounter Eugene Stratton and Marie Kendall, or have that disk shooting down the groove to ogle us? Once again, I'm not going to be a spoil sport and tell why these repetitions exist, but I do want to draw attention to them so that their existence doesn't escape your awareness. It's vey easy for particulars to get lost in the density of the text during a first read, even when they're rather obvious. While I'm on the subject of narrative structure I'll also throw out that there's an interesting bookending to this episode. Let me know if you catch it and what your thoughts are on it. Hint: it relates to one of the many themes of the novel.


*well, you may actually be crazy, but these particular repetitions you are experiencing are not proof of that


The pause that refreshes
Since we're at the midpoint of the book (at least episode-wise) this might be a good time to review what we have read. After all, if you're simply plowing through the reading without reflecting then you're likely not getting much out of the reading. We did this a little a couple of entries ago, but let's try it again focusing our attention on Stephen and Bloom.


So, what do we know about Stephen up to this point? Well, we know he's quite learned, thinks in complex, abstract, almost poetical ways. He is an aspiring writer. He isn't the happiest person you might encounter. He seems to be haunted by the thought of his dead mother, and fairly unimpressed by his father (who art not in heaven), Si Dedalus. He also seems to have exiled himself from both his family and his friend and flat mate Buck Mulligan. (I should also point out for those who don't know, that exile is one of Stephen Dedalus' three defense weapons of choice, the other two being silence and cunning [see this excerpt the final conversation with Cranley in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man]). Up to this point Stephen has just been wandering aimlessly around Dublin.


As for Bloom, we know that he is an ad canvasser for the Freeman Journal, married to Marion (Molly) Bloom (née Tweedy), and that he lives at 7 Eccles street. He is a Jew (on the spear side) though not practicing. He's relatively well educated, but not exactly a genius, possessing a better than average knowledge of music and apparently knows his astronomy, among lots of other random knowledge. He is rumored to be a Freemason though this is only conjecture on the part of some of the other citizens. We also know that Bloom is a father, having one daughter with Molly (Milly Bloom, newly turned 15) and one son (Rudy) who died eleven days after he was born. Thus Bloom is a father, but not the father of a son. Perhaps most importantly, we know that Bloom's wife is going to have an affair at or around four o'clock with one Blazes Boylan, and we know that Bloom knows of this affair.


This is just a fraction of what we might list about Stephen and Bloom, but they should serve as solid, basic facts to work from. I was somewhat selective about what I included, trying to insure that some of the most important facts about our heroes were present.


Other important things to consider
So, what else? Outside of Bloom and Stephen, what other facts can help us piece the story together? Well, I am of the opinion that there are no irrelevancies in Ulysses, and that everything provided is useful in understanding the story. However, while trying to build a broad understanding of the story, it is best to focus on the bigger facts first. Maybe the biggest fact outside of the principle characters is the fact of Dublin itself. Dublin, Ireland, Irish-ness and all that that means to the citizenry, our heroes, and Joyce are a constant theme of the novel. Ulysses is an Irish novel in the most literal sense.


Not far behind are the themes of fatherhood (that legal fiction according to Stephen), religion (often via the holy trinity), and the English 'occupiers' (as contrasted against a free Ireland). And of course there are those Homeric parallels. To be sure, there are so many more things that go into the mix, but these should help us begin the process of piecing together what we currently know.


Okay, I realize this is a complicated mix of elements so let me try an experiment with you. Taking into consideration what you already know, how do you see this story playing out? Conjecture as to how this thing wraps up. Write an ending to this story. Don't read any further until you do so. It doesn't have to be long, just a simple (though educated) guess at how and why these two lone men meet, and what is accomplished by their meeting.

**************************************

Done? Okay.
Whatever you came up with, you're wrong. But that hardly matters. What matters is you're thinking about the story. You are actively engaging with the information, and that is vital to gaining some understanding of what you are reading. From this point on you should be regularly trying to venture a guess as to where this story is leading. I suggest doing it after each episode, assimilating the new information into your thinking. A the episodes get progressively longer and more difficult from here (yes, that is possible, believe me) this will not be an easy task, but it will hopefully help provide some context for you.


Raw Notes


The mid point. The omphalos? A day in the life of dear, dirty Dublin. The meanderings and doings of the city. Orchestrated waltz of the Dublin citizenry.

• "He can never be a poet. The joy of creation..."

• "Does he write anything for your movement? —Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write something in ten years."

• "If I had served my God as I have served my king..."

• "a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin."

• "...A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the Liffey..."

• "Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that one, Marion?"

• "The way she's holding up her bit of a skirt."

• "The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal cavalcade."

• "A darkbacked figure scanned books on the hawker's cart.

• —There he is, Lenehan said.

• —Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said, glancing behind. —Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the Rye, Lenehan said."

• "He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He's not one of your common or garden... you know... There's a touch of the artist about old Bloom."

• "Who has passed here before me?"

• "Do others see me so?"

• "She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will drown me with her, eyes and"