Thursday 22 October 2015

Tuesday, 20 October 2015, Pages 495 - 499, Nausicaa, episode 13

We have finished episode 13, "Nausicaa". 


The point at which we pick up the reading (when "far on Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom" (13.1180)) is one that marks the division between the two parts in this chapter: the first part is rendered in Gerty's style (sugary, inflated, aiming high), the second in Bloom's postorgasmic, more down to earth, deflated style. The twinkle occurs with the rocket going up and we get an overview of Dublin: we briefly see Sandymount, the hill Howth, the newspapers that are being distributed, music is coming from the church (things Bloom could not see or hear). In Fritz Senn's explanation, this flight into a different perspective is like a "cinematographic sweep", ending back on Bloom. The passage is like having a bit of the interior monologue embedded into a cinematic sweep.


Bloom then looks out at a lifeboat and imagines how hard life must be for the people working as coastguards for the lighthouse. He thinks of their working equipment, one of which is the "breeches buoy" - something like a lifebuoys fitted with trouser-legs, used to manoeuvre a coastguard between ship and shore to rescue people on ships in danger (13.1183):


Bloom then remembers Milly, who was fearless during a boat-ride, whereas he didn’t like it so much, nor the danger (the irony of this: Bloom, the Odysseus figure, not liking a boat ride).

An explanatory note: "Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for Leah. Lily of Killarney. No. Might be still up" (13.1211).

Bloom is thinking that he should not stick around at the beach and should move on. It is getting late, too late to go to see the play Leah, he thinks (which would be starting at 8 p.m.). What is likely to be going on here is that Bloom, on his roaming around the whole day, might also be trying to stay away from home. He may have told Molly earlier that he would go to see a play. At this point in the evening, Molly might still be up and, therefore, Bloom does not want to go back yet. The irony of this is that we have an Odysseus (a home-going figure) who, here, is in no hurry at all to get home.

Bloom does feel tired, though, which is also reflected in the language. It too is getting heavy and the voice more drowsy (in contrast to the flying-high-up mood of the 1st part). After “Long day I’ve had” we get a recall of what we read earlier (Martha’s letter, bath, funeral, Keyes’s ad, museum etc.). He looks back at the episode in the pub (chapter 12, "Cyclops") and seems able to see it in a more relaxed way. The “Look at it other way round” is again a typically Bloomian attempt to see the other's perspective and the other side of the story. Very thoughtful of him -- yet, to give his slightly revengeful side credit too, he does imagine the citizen from "Cyclops" as hanging around with a ‘not much to look at’ woman:

Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three fangs in her mouth. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. The sister of the wife of the wild man of Borneo has just come to town. Imagine that in the early morning at close range. Everyone to his taste as Morris said when he kissed the cow. (13.1221)

Bloom is about to doze off and his mind drifts into a dream-like state, when images take over. The closing paragraphs reflect Bloom's mind, which is in a fuzzy state of consciousness (we get echoes, vague references, bits of memory that surface with no logical order). A second time it refers back to instances we read about in previous chapters (met him pike hosed, Raoul, the perfume your wife uses, Mulvey etc.) (13.1279).

A note on the text: Some editions lack what has been restored by Gabler. The paragraph starting "O sweety all your little" (13.1279) should read as follows:

O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon senorita young eyes Mulvey plump hubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her next her next.

There was some speculation during the reading as to what Bloom might have been writing in the sand with a stick he found on the beach. "I", then "AM. A." (13.12.58). Incomplete sentences tempt us to fill in. Fritz Senn wonders would Bloom be writing "I am a naughty boy" (in memory of Martha's letter) or "I am alone", and points out that "Ama" also happens to carry Latin overtones for love, which would be appropriate, the idea of love being at the root of Nausicaa (not that Bloom would be aware of it but we as readers may make the connection).
At any rate, Bloom would likely chalk up the encounter as a positive one. There are no signs of disillusionment, disappointment or bitterness at the visual encounter with Gerty (rather, he thinks, “Made me feel so young” (13.1272)). Indeed, there has been some kind of understanding and language between him and Gerty.

At the close of "Nausicaa", the narrative breaks up into three parts or strands: Bloom – Gerty – priest’s house, accompanied by three strikes of the clock with repetition of the three Cuckoos (with their references to cuckoldry - Bloom's fate at the moment). The three "Cuckoos" are reminiscent of the end of Shakespeare's play Love's Labours Lost, which are, "Cuckoo! / Cuckoo, cuckoo!' O word of fear, / Unpleasing to a married ear".

After that, for just a few lines, we get back into the language of the first part of the episode and its homey style. The chapter had started with "The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace" and maybe the Gerty-style closes the embrace (a little like a bracket).