Wednesday 2 November 2011

Book Two - Episode Fourteen : Oxen of the Sun

How long I have waited to finally arrive at this point in the epic; the beginning of our climb to the climactic action of Ulysses. Think of it like the slow suspenseful, inexorable trek up the biggest hill of a roller coaster, where you know you will eventually be dropped back downward hurtling toward the earth at some ridiculous rate of sped. 


"Oxen of the Sun" is the first half of what I would argue are the two most significant episodes of Ulysses. The crystallization of all of Joyce's efforts begin to unfold here at the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street. Fitting that the fruits of the author's labors should come to fruition via a birth (and a hard one at that). Coincidence? You decide. 


Of primary significance to the reader (that's you) is the much anticipated meeting between Bloom and Stephen. Although our two protagonists have crossed paths at various points in their respective sojourns through Dublin, this is the first time they share space, activity, and conversation together. Back at the beginning when we first began this journey, I broke down the plot of Ulysses to it's most basic element: the story of two guys who meet. And there have been plenty of occurrences, close calls, and shared thoughts that have indicated that this meeting has been presaged. So, here we are at the crossroads of destiny, the principals have met, and the question that confronts us is: now what?  


Now what, indeed. It would be a slap in the face -- if not completely demoralizing -- to say that the real work begins now. If you've read thirteen episodes of Ulysses then you are well aware of how much work you've already invested. So I won't say that this is where the real work begins. In fact, I will say the opposite: all of the work it took just to arrive at this point, the dense and difficult prose, the narrative obstacles, the adventures in protean style shifts, and the demands of the author of this blog (that's me) that you try and make sense of this pile of text should (hopefully) have prepared you to see the convergences of those oft repeated references, allusions, and motifs that Joyce has woven into a story. The work is by no means over, it is simply coming to a head. And "Oxen of the Sun" while symbolically bring the important elements of Ulysses into a "coherent" whole will, through that very symbolism, confuse the bejeezus out of you. As usual, Joyce makes his point frustratingly complicated (but not without purpose). 


Bygmester Finnegan, it's time to begin again! 
It will be worthwhile for us once again to review what we know about the themes, motifs, references, and symbolism that we have encountered up until now. Of the major themes presented, I hope the father/son dialectic will have immediately come to mind. Other related themes that are evident in "Oxen" are those of maternity, fertility, masculinity/femininity/androgyny, and the process growth of change. Feel free to refer back to the episode one blog for a partial list of themes, motifs, etc. 


Style, style, style on top of the pile 
In terms of episode style, I guess I should start by cautioning you to tighten your seat belts 'cause there's going to be a bit of turbulence ahead. This episode is among the most challenging to read through and contextualize (IMHO) as it is very heavily laden with style issues. In fact, Joyce famously presents us with a chronological survey of English prose history which morphs from style to style as the episode progresses until language appears to disintegrate into a barely comprehensible confusion. Some of the styles in particular as well as the general shifts can make the content hard to apprehend. The irony, agony, and brilliance of Joyce is in evidence in "Oxen of the Sun." 


It is vitally important to understand the subtextual symbolic action taking place in "Oxen" in order to understand how the climax of the story plays out and, thereby, understand Ulysses as a complete story. The "action" is brilliantly embedded in the form of the episode, but it is so well embedded that the reader cannot unearth it without the help of outside assistance. It is highly unlikely that anyone has ever read this episode without some foreknowledge of Joyce's hidden art and figured out what was going on. This is one of the reasons why Joyce made sure that certain select individuals --such as Stuart Gilbert and Frank Budgen among others -- were give license to publish certain inside information or "keys" to the book. Without such extra-textual information this would truly be a mystery too dense to penetrate. That said, I still (stubbornly) hold to the belief that your first read should be unencumbered by explanatory notes.  


However, just because you cannot know everything about the episode doesn't mean you can't learn anything through the episode. While it is true that Joyce's methods are obscure (some would say unsound), you can at least figure out what the general theme of the episode is about. Again, go back to what you do know: birth, fatherhood, son-hood, and all that that might entail. You might think about that debate that Stephen was embroiled in back in episode nine at the National Library, or even revisit the story of the slaughter of the oxen of the sun god Helios in Homer's Odyssey. (Let's not forget our Homeric underpinnings). Whatever the case, don't let the complexity of the episode goad you into a quick and unreflective read through. We've done all of this reading just to get to this meeting. Let's not cheat ourselves out of the fruits of our labor. 

Raw notes 
"That answer and those leaves, Vincent said to him, will adorn you more fitly when something more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. All who wish you well hope this for you. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. I heartily wish you may not fail them. O no, Vincent, Lenehan said, laying a hand on the shoulder near him. Have no fear. He could not leave his mother an orphan. The young man's face grew dark. All could see how hard it was for him to be reminded of his promise and of his recent loss." 

"...the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. " 


"...and the brave woman had manfully helped." 

"...he involuntarily determined to help him himself …" 

"It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods."

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