Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

Themes and phrases from previous episodes emerge again, often in a surreal or grotesque manner, as this episode continues. Bloom’s grandfather, Lipoti Virag, continues his appraisal of the brothel's ladies. He gradually assumes a more bestial character -- his yellow parrotbeak gabbles, he develops turkey wattles, a mooncalf face, and a scorpion tongue. As he is leaving, he slaps the flyer advertising Dr. Hy Franks’s cure for the clap (an ad noticed by Bloom in Lestrygonians) on the wall. Virag unscrews his head and holds it out like a lantern. The head proclaims: “Quack.�

Meanwhile, Stephen and Zoe are discussing priests. She asks Stephen if he is out of Maynooth, the Catholic seminary. “Out of it now,� he murmurs. Florry is sure that Stephen is a spoiled priest, and Lynch assures her it's true, and a Cardinal’s son to boot. Stephen imagines himself as Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of All Ireland.

Bella Cohen, the madam of the house, finally appears, fan in hand. The fan speaks to Bloom, noting that he is married but that “the missus is the master.� Bloom grins sheepishly, deprecates himself and takes a submissive posture. “Enormously I desiderate your domination,� he says. Bella and Bloom switch genders -- Bella is now Bello, and Bloom is referred to as female. Bella threatens him and Bloom grovels beneath her “hoof.� Bloom’s sexual peccadilloes and past transgressions are catalogued.

“Say! What was the most revolting piece of obscenity in all your career of crime? Go the whole hog. Puke it out. Be candid for once.�

Throughout this section there are references to the erotic books Bloom has obtained for Molly, “Ruby, Pride of the Ring� and “The Sweets of Sin.� Subdued voices also refer to the dream that Stephen had in the tower the night before (which he remembers in the Proteus episode) which proves to be a premonition this evening in the brothel: “Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid�.That man led me. Spoke. I was not afraid.�

Bella taunts Bloom, asking him if he can do a man’s job. Bloom responds, “Eccles street.� Bella tells him there is a “man of brawn in possession there. The tables are turned...� Bloom’s submissiveness meets his obsession -- Molly and Boylan. Bloom sees a vision of Molly and asks her forgiveness, but Bella informs him that it is not Molly but his daughter MIlly that he sees. He has slept twenty years and it is too late for him. He might as well sign his will and die. Voices then announce that he has died. “Bloom? Never heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap. There’s the widow.�

At this point the Nymph that hangs over Bloom’s bed steps out of her oak frame and complains about all she has witnessed in the Blooms� bedroom. She speaks as one of the immortals, “We are stonecold and pure. We eat electric light.� The Nymph appears eyeless in a nun’s habit and preaches the ethereal way of life. Bloom half rises and his trousers button snaps. Bloom recovers himself at this point, claiming that the spell has broken with the "Bip!" of the button. “The last straw. If there were only ethereal, where would you all be, postulants and novices?� Bloom seizes the Nymph’s hand, and she flees, “her plaster cast cracking, a cloud of stench escaping from the cracks.

Bloom has apparently been in a trance, staring at Bella, who is now in her normal female form. Having recovered his manhood, he turns on Bella. “A raw onion the last thing at night would benefit your complexion. And take some double chin drill.� He demands that Zoe return his potato. Bella wants payment for the three of them and Stephen lays out his money. Bloom ensures that the right amount is paid, returns the change to Stephen, and then suggests that Stephen allow him to keep his cash safe. Stephen hands Bloom his remaining coins. “Be just before you are generous.�

It is after 11, after which liquor can no longer be sold by law. The time reminds Stephen of his fox riddle he told his students this morning. "Time for this soul to go to heaven." He muses on the past. As Stephen holds a “lucifer� -- a match -- close to his eye, we learn that he somehow broke his glasses the previous day. His mind wanders back 16 years to grammar school and the scene described in Portrait of the Artist where he is punished by Father Dolan for breaking his glasses. The priest claimed Stephen broke his glasses intentionally to get out of schoolwork, “a lazy idle schemer.� He is pandied, or lashed on the hands in that scene, and Stephen complains now that he has injured his hand somehow. (How old is this pain?)

As Zoe reads Bloom’s palm, a scar on his hand reminds him of an accident he had 22 years ago, when he was 16. Stephen is 22. This coincidence of years inspires Stephen to remark on what Deasy said about history in the Nestor episode: “See? Moves to one great goal.�

Bloom is under the spell again at this point. He sees a vision of Boylan entering his home. Boylan hangs his hat on Bloom’s antlered head and Bloom leads him to Madam Marion in her bath. Boylan tells Bloom he can watch them do it through the keyhole. Bloom wants to watch and not watch at the same time: “Show! Hide! Show!�

Lynch repeats the line from Hamlet about “holding the mirror up to nature,� upon which Shakespeare appears in the mirror. Bloom and Stephen gaze into it together, their images fused with Shakespeare’s, crowned by the reindeer antlered hatrack in the hall. The face of Martin Cunningham makes an appearance, presumably because Bloom thought (in the Hades episode) that he looks like Shakespeare.

The redcoats Compton and Carr pass by singing “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.� Zoe puts twopence in the pianola and soon they are all dancing. The dancing master Maginni (from Wandering Rocks) gives instructions. Stephen whirls about in a frenzy until his father appears to him and exclaims, “Think of your mother’s people!� A nightmare image stops Stephen in his tracks: he sees the ghost of his mother, ghoulish and emaciated, emerging from the floor. Mulligan appears, repeating his mockery from the first episode. She asks Stephen to repent and prays for him, but Stephen screams, strangled with rage, remorse and horror. He reiterates his refusal: “With me all or not at all. Non serviam!�

In the “real� world Florry notices that Stephen has turned white and she gets Bloom’s attention. Bloom opens the window for fresh air, but Stephen needs more than air. He is out of control at this point and finally screams “Nothung!� -- the name of a sword in Wagner’s Ring Cycle -- and smashes the chandelier with his ashplant. He abandons his stick and runs into the street.

In the street Stephen manages to run afoul of the privates, Compton and Carr, who accuse him of insulting Cissy Caffrey. Stephen drunkenly soliloquizes and insults them vaguely with unflattering allusions to the British crown. Bloom comes to his aid, but Stephen continues to babble provokingly. Lynch says that Stephen won’t listen to him and leaves with one of the prostitutes. Stephen utters “Exit Judas� as he goes. After a brief apocalypse with elements of a black mass, Private Carr strikes Stephen in the face. The crowd steps in to protect Stephen and the police arrive. Corny Kelleher, who apparently has connections, conveniently shows up to assure the police that Stephen has just been over-celebrating. “We were often as bad ourselves, ay or worse. What? Eh, What?�

Stephen is sprawled on the street, murmuring thickly about black panthers and Fergus and shadows, etc. Bloom is standing over him. He hears “Ferguson� and thinks Stephen is talking about a girl. “Best thing that could ever happen to him,� he says. At a loss, Bloom recites phrases from masonic ritual, fingers at his lips “like an old master.� Against the dark wall Bloom sees a vision of his dead son Rudy, dressed in an Eton suit, reading in a book from right to left.

Patrice wrote: "Not sure what to make of it, maybe it isn't meant to be rational, just a dream sequence?"

Same here, Patrice. There is so much going on, and it's often odd like a dream. Sometimes we wake up from a dream and it makes sense and sometimes it doesn't. And we try to interpret our dreams, but we aren't always successful. Seems the same with this entire episode. Is it worth trying to figure it all out when a lot of it is like a dream?

As to what happened, I was able to pick up on only a small fraction of it. Thomas's summary was very helpful in letting me "see" what I had missed.

Yes…very "dreamesque". Here are a few choice bits I chuckled about:
>>BLOOM: (crawls jellily forward under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, with dignity).<<<< LOL~ "with dignity". I note I also wrote in the margins "ha!" shortly thereafter when Bloom lifts his "turtle head" toward her lap. There are a lot of other amusing bits, and oft I think I miss them as I am busy trying to make sense of it all..as if one can. ha!

Yes, so true. I also like how the Yews ("their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their skinny arms aging and swaying.) say "Deciduously!". Ha!

Linda wrote: "And we try to interpret our dreams, but we aren't always successful. Seems the same with this entire episode. Is it worth trying to figure it all out when a lot of it is like a dream?."


Well, we can try to figure it out. Let's look at the way Bloom is portrayed in this bizarre fantasy nightmare. In the first part of the episode we saw Bloom persecuted, then his comic rise to power, and then his fall. In the second part we see him groveling beneath the feet of Bella/Bello and then we see him transformed into a woman. Bloom seem to be capable of anything. He is both a hero and a worm. He even dies, in his imagination (or the author's imagination) and comes back to life. What does this say about Bloom as a person? Can we conclude anything from this?

Patrice wrote: "So much of the book seems to be about sexual dysfunction of one kind or another.
"

Much of what happens in Circe has already happened before, but it is recast in a more confrontational manner. We see the submissive role that Bloom takes with regard to Molly the first time we see him in Calypso. He plays another role as Henry Flower in Lotus Eaters. And another role as the foreign gentleman on the beach in Nausicaa. And in this episode his roles are recapitulated and played to the hilt.

But all the while, what he is looking for is something to replace the intimacy that he has lost with Molly. Either that, or a way to get that intimacy back. He really is lost at sea, like Ulysses.

Since Calypso we have seen Bloom struggling with Molly’s affair - he wants it and than again he doesn’t (voglio e non vorrei). But at exactly four o’clock he relieves himself, writing in the sand, for Gerty to see, "I’m a .." A cuckold, yes, the word Martha did not like, but which has been on Bloom’s mind all day.

From his letters to Nora we may presume that Joyce was, like Bloom, a sexual masochist. So these scenes in Circe may, or must, have had another meaning for him than for the average reader. In a way Bloom is man nor woman, just like he is Jew nor goy, and I’m inclined to believe that in Ulysses Joyce is trying to resolve this troubled identity.

Self-persiflage may be part of the Circe episode, but there is more to it than that. This is the place where men are usually turned into swine, but Bloom and Stephen leave Bella’s establishment as human beings (and not just because of Bloom’s charm). And I take it that this is the turning point, or the decisive moment of the novel.

I would not pretend that I understand exactly what is happening in this 'Fifty Shades of Bloom' episode, but I would suggest that both our heroes survive because they come together, not just as father and son, but as two aspects of one entity. The writer and the man, art and nature? To me at least the chapter seems to end with a new sense of harmony.

Patrice wrote: "In epics, when someone dies and returns to life, they often are "new" people. Are we to expect Bloom to return to a new life? "

Yes! I think you're on to something here. Both Bloom and Stephen are obsessed with a history they can't escape. Stephen can't get over the death of his mother, his broken relationship with the Church (not to mention God), and the sorry state of his country under British rule. Bloom can't get over the confused state of his heritage, his religion, the suicide of his father, and the death of his son.

Neither of them seems to be able to move forward because they are stuck in the past. This results in the sort of insanity we see in this episode. Stephen says that history is the nightmare from which he cannot awake, and in Circe we see that nightmare literally. It turns out that it's not just a poetic phrase -- it is something very real, for both of them. History is not an abstract thing to be objectively studied; it's a tangible disease. It makes them both spiritually ill. In Bloom it manifests as sexual dysfunction, in Stephen it manifests as depression. In mythological terms, it makes pigs of men.

So... how is the spell to be broken? How does one wake up from a nightmare? How does one escape the past, or is that even possible? Can either of them die to the past and be re-born?

Any guesses about the significance of color? Yellow often associated with animals or illness or organs. Red is often mentioned in Circe, clothing. Any one see patterns for color?

Susan wrote: "Any guesses about the significance of color?"

According to the Linati scheme the color for this episode is violet, the Gilbert scheme does not mention a color for Circe. The art is dance, c.q. magic.

Violet makes me think of the Church, and it has crossed my mind that Bella's whorehouse might be interpreted as a theatre of guilt and repentance - magic as art supports this idea. But I am not completely happy with it, I find it too limited, and Bloom has no quarrel with the Church.

Just a reminder.

Here are 44 pages of illustrations to link with Circe:

Patrice wrote: "Regarding Bloom's masochism, I want to point out how astute Adelle was when, at the very beginning, she picked up on this. When Bloom was described as "enjoying" the tang of the urine in the pork ..."

You know, I'm not so sure about Bloom's "masochism." Everything in this episode is exaggerated, in the surreal way that daily experience is exaggerated in dreams. Bloom is more or less submissive in his everyday life, with respect to Molly in particular, and I think his submissiveness is exaggerated in this episode to the point of masochism. But I don't see Bloom as enjoying his suffering in the ordinary everyday world. (And personally, I don't think liking kidneys, or stinky cheese, or arugula counts. :)

Wendel wrote: "writing in the sand, for Gerty to see, "I’m a ..."

Do we know that Cuckold is the "world" Martha refers to? I might have missed that. Otherwise I saw this a sort of reinforcing the idea that Bloom doesn't really know what he is...

"Bloom and Stephen leave Bella’s establishment as human beings (and not just because of Bloom’s charm). And I take it that this is the turning point, or the decisive moment of the novel.

I think this is pretty key. Both men finally break out of their mopey daydreaming. Stephen by acting out violently, and Bloom by assuming a sort of fatherly/protector role.

Thomas wrote: "Well, we can try to figure it out."

Yes, of course. :) I think I was in a very deflated, confused state after finishing this episode and when I made my comment.

Thomas wrote: "I don't see Bloom as enjoying his suffering in the ordinary everyday worldr..."

Yeah, I tend to see him as something of a stoic. He's been through a lot in life and is certainly no stranger to pain, but I'm not sure that he enjoys it. My impression was rather that he tries to avoid thinking about things that trouble him, but these things all bubbled up to the surface in this episode.

Kyle wrote @21: "Do we know that Cuckold is the "world" Martha refers to? I might have missed that..."

No we don’t know for sure. Actually there is a discussion about what Martha 'really� wrote. In the first edition she writes that she does not like 'that other world' - some later editors decided that this must be a typo and changed it into 'that other word'. The idea is that Bloom asked her to use sexual innuendo in her letters, and 'cuckold' fits perfectly.

So editions differ depending on the interpretation of the editors. Burgess believes (no he is sure!) that it must be 'world' because it must refer to the passage in Circe where Stephen’s mother says 'I pray for you in my other world' (p.111). He does not explain why Martha would call Bloom a 'naughty boy' and why they would discuss 'that other world' in their lurid correspondence.

Patrice wrote: "Liking kidneys is one thing, but enjoying the taste of urine? It just struck me that, at the very beginning, before the issue of "masochism" ever occurred to me, Adelle hit on that. And now, all this time later, we're dealing with the question still. "

Bloom accepts his wife's infidelity, which by most peoples' standards is unnatural. One of the questions that propels the book is why Bloom does this, and masochism seems like a possibility. But as the book unfolds it doesn't appear that Bloom is someone who enjoys inflicting pain on himself. He is a fairly thoughtful and kind man, and a temperate one, though he's certainly not perfect and not without his quirks. I guess I don't see anything in the text to indicate that he enjoys pain.

If he hated the taste of kidneys and still ate them, then yes. But he doesn't -- he "relishes" them! He's not abasing himself by enjoying what he loves, regardless of what anyone else thinks of the inner organs of beasts and fowls.

Patrice wrote: "I didn't think the word was "cuckold" either. I thought it was a great trick of Joyce's to leave it empty. What is he? We can fill in the blank..
"

I agree. In the Sirens episode he is called "Bloowho" for the same reason. Who is he? He's like Odysseus, hard to pin down.

Wendel wrote: "Kyle wrote @21: "No we don’t know for sure. Actually there is a discussion about what Martha 'really� wrote. ..."

Yeah, it does seem pretty clear that "world" is a deliberate typo, like "dearest Papli". Just based on the text, I agree that the "world" should be some sort of innuendo/flirtation, I'm not sure the cuckold would fit the bill for me though...seems perhaps more shameful/pathetic than "naughty".

I finished the chapter and shouted hooray!!

Have we discussed Joyce's lists yet? What's up with all the lists? I don't recall him doing it in Portrait of an Artist. Sometimes there is some humor within the list. Other times I wonder if he's being paid by the word-ha!
Holly

Hollyinnnv wrote: "I finished the chapter and shouted hooray!!

Have we discussed Joyce's lists yet? What's up with all the lists? I don't recall him doing it in Portrait of an Artist. Sometimes there is some humor..."

I liked the humorous lists. They remind me of the Car Talk Credits.

Hollyinnnv wrote: "I finished the chapter and shouted hooray!!

Have we discussed Joyce's lists yet? What's up with all the lists? I don't recall him doing it in Portrait of an Artist. Sometimes there is some humor..."

Rabelais does this quite a bit in Gargantua and Pantagruel and so does Laurence Sterne, who was influenced by Rabelais.

Some thought on Circe from literary critic Suzette Henke:

Like Freud, Joyce recognized the cathartic possibilities of comedy and its power to expose subliminal threats to the light of playful absurdity. The psychodrama of "Nighttown" enables Bloom to purge his repressions through exaggerated reenactment of psychological horror. Comedy allows him to domesticate the monsters that prowl about his anxious psyche...

Bloom is aware of the social opprobrium attached to his fetishes; and he recognizes, as well, society's mistrust of the feminine virtues of compassion and tolerance. Hence his deep-seated guilt, anxiety, and self-recrimination...

Joyce dramatizes repressed desire in a frame of comic absurdity. He asks us to confront the darkest recesses of erotic passion, to accept our sensuous imaginings, and to laugh at human nature in the fuller context of civilized pretension. Beneath the scaffolding of power and romantic love, beneath the pomp and circumstance of political theory, exists a frail and somewhat ludicrous species, homo sapiens. By shining the light on Nighttown, Joyce exposes our fears and shows us that they are nothing but painted images, dumb shows that need not harm us.

Joyce's Moraculous Sindbook: A Study of Ulysses

Thomas wrote: "By shining the light on Nighttown, Joyce exposes our fears and shows us that they are nothing but painted images, dumb shows that need not harm us...."

Do we agree? Many fears may indeed simply be absurd, but....

Lily wrote: "Do we agree? Many fears may indeed simply be absurd, but.... "

...but what? :-)

If I read your ellipsis correctly, I agree. Fear is not easily dismissed, and the fear of an individual, especially an outsider, is not easily dismissed. Joyce highlights the ways in which Bloom and Stephen are outsiders; he magnifies their individuality against the backdrop of a society that condemns how they think about most things. In Bloom's case it is how, and why, he allows himself to be cuckolded; in Stephen's case it is his willful disobedience, his "non serviam."

But there is a penalty to be paid for individuality, and fear is a natural response. Sometimes the cure is standing up to one's fear, the way Bloom stands up to the Citizen. Other times dreams can exorcise fear. Comedy might also have a place.

Thomas wrote: "...If I read your ellipsis correctly, I agree. Fear is not easily dismissed, and the fear of an individual, especially an outsider, is not easily dismissed...."

Henke writes as if "all" fears are nothing but painted images, or at least those Joyce exposes. I'd suggest that the sources of some of those images might indeed harm and strategies are needed for dealing with them -- as you suggest. (I might include getting a shot of penicillin, but that wasn't available yet in 1904. :-0)

Lily wrote: "Henke writes as if "all" fears are nothing but painted images, or at least those Joyce exposes. I'd suggest that the sources of some of those images might indeed harm and strategies are needed for dealing with them -- as you suggest. (I might include getting a shot of penicillin, but that wasn't available yet in 1904. :-0) "

That's my fault for selecting phrases and posting them without the full context of Henke's essay. Certainly the tram that nearly runs over Bloom is not a "painted image," but the dangers that are of primary concern here are psychological rather than physical. Strategies for dealing with psychological dangers are needed too. I think Henke is suggesting that "an exaggerated reenactment of psychological horror" is one such strategy. Perhaps not the healthiest strategy by today's standards, but one that has a tradition going back to Euripides.

And speaking of penicillin, it's worth noting that Bloom and Stephen never get what they paid for in the brothel. Perhaps another indication that it's not about the physical as much as the psychological.

:-)

Yes, catharsis. There are also probably relevant theological and psychological terms.

Ah HA! Absinthe! All is explained.

Zippy wrote: "I liked the humorous lists. They remind me of the Car Talk Credits. "

Me too, Zippy!

Thomas wrote: "Rabelais does this quite a bit in Gargantua and Pantagruel and so does Laurence Sterne, who was influenced by Rabelais. "

So does the Bible. Is it a sacrilege to be reminded of both Car Talk and the Bible at once? :)

I'm not sure I would identify this chapter as comedy. It's pretty dark and disturbing. Stephen's mother rising from the grave, for example? I noted this line as one key to what I read this chapter as being about: "Sleep reveals the worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted." Bloom says this to the nymph. It seemed to me that this section was an unveiling of everyone's worst self.

Thomas cited Henke: "Joyce recognized the cathartic possibilities of comedy and its power to expose subliminal threats to the light of playful absurdity. The psychodrama of "Nighttown" enables Bloom to purge his repressions through exaggerated reenactment of psychological horror. Comedy allows him to domesticate the monsters that prowl about his anxious psyche......"

Seems like although "repression" might be personal--"his" respressions, I think many of the issues "exposed to the light of playful absurdity" in Nighttown are universal relationships: self/others, self/family, self/brotherhood, self/citizenry, male/female. Stephen and Bloom have made choices, as does everyone. Nighttown offers a fantastical enactment of potentiality, as T. S. Eliot says, "down the passage we did not take/Toward the door we never opened". How does Bloom react as King, as a woman? these are roles that every man must come to terms with--role in the power structure, role with the opposite sex. He tries on different roles in the fantasy world,and concludes that he's fine the way he is. Stephen, on the other hand, reacts with anger to the Nighttown experience which amplifies the gulf between who he is and who he wants to be.

Are the words catharsis and purgation synonymous?

Susan wrote: "Are the words catharsis and purgation synonymous?"

Well, here's what M-W says about their usage:(view spoiler)[

purgation
1 a: the act of purging; specifically: vigorous evacuation of the bowels (as from the action of a purgative or an infective agent) b: administration of or treatment with a purgative c: obsolete: menstruation
2: ceremonial cleansing: purification
3 a: moral or spiritual purification: destruction of the influences of sin: a freeing from moral evil
b: the first stage in a mystic's progress to perfection consisting of conscious moral purification by self-discipline, subjugation of distracting desires, ascetic practices, and similar measures � called also purgative way
4: the clearing of oneself from alleged guilt [let him put me to my purgation � Shakespeare] � see canonical purgation {church sanctified}, vulgar purgation {secular}

Origin of PURGATION
Middle English purgacioun, from Middle French purgation, from Latin purgation-, purgatio, from purgatus (past participle of purgare to cleanse) + -ion-, -io -ion � more at purge

First Known Use: 14th century (sense 1a)

catharsis
1: purgation 1
2a: the purification or purgation of the emotions (as pity and fear) primarily through art [leaves the spectator “as empty, as changed, and as sad� as any other tragic catharsis � Carlos Baker] � used by Aristotle in his description of the effect of tragedy
b: any purification or purgation that brings about a spiritual renewal or a satisfying release from tension [these drawings served as a catharsis, relieving him of his burden of terrible memories, at the same time releasing hidden creative forces � Eva Michaelis-Stern]
3a: the process of bringing repressed ideas and feelings into consciousness especially by the technique of free association as employed in psychoanalysis, drugs or hypnosis sometimes being used as adjuvants � compare hypnotherapy, narcoanalysis
b: abreaction

Origin of CATHARSIS
New Latin, from Greek katharsis, from kathairein to clean, purify, from katharos pure

First Known Use: circa 1775

"Purgation" "Catharsis." Webster's Third New International Dictionary, Unabridged. 2015.. Web. 08 Mar. 2015.
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Kathy wrote: "I'm not sure I would identify this chapter as comedy. It's pretty dark and disturbing. Stephen's mother rising from the grave, for example? I noted this line as one key to what I read this chapter ..."

I don't find much humor in Stephen's experience, but I do in Bloom's. It is a grotesque kind of comedy, and certainly not to everyone's taste. I think the episode is partly a burlesque of Freudianism and sexual pathology, and to that extent I think it's hilarious.

Susan wrote: "Are the words catharsis and purgation synonymous?"

As far as I know, yes. Purgation comes from Latin, and catharsis from Greek, but they amount to the same thing -- a purification by getting rid of the bad stuff.

Kathy, the dark passages - I could score this whole section with the Rite of Spring, and playing the part of Stephen: Munch's Scream. Classicists of the time must have been fearing the end of the world.

A professor once said that the three most powerful influences on modern thought are Christ, Marx and Freud. That's probably debatable. Freud published The Interpretation of Dreams around 1900, and a Freudian approach to reading Joyce seems popular. Since I personally don't find Freud useful except for identifying internal dialogue, the subconscious--fairly basic concepts, I wondered how Joyce felt about Freud. I found this reference in Freud, Jung and Joyce: conscious connections:
"Although, Joyce vehemently denied being influenced by the ideas of Freud and Jung, referring to them derisively as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, ... he very familiar with the substance of their ideas and theories (and) he could also apply them when exploring the minds of his characters. Lionel Trilling, (The Liberal Imagination, 1951), proposed that: 'James Joyce with his interest in the numerous states of receding consciousness, with his use of words which point to more than one thing, with his pervading sense of the interrelation and interpenetration of all things, and, not least important, his treatment of familial themes, has perhaps most thoroughly (relative to other writers he is referencing) and consciously exploited Freud's ideas.'"

Most of that list could not be attributed exclusively to Freud. I'm just curious about how directly Joyce was influenced by Freud; whether Joyce touched on universals which lend themselves to Freudian interpretation or whether he was building characters on a deeper sense of alignment with Freud's ideas.

A recent reference to "coincidental contraries" in Bruno is intriguing to me since, as I mentioned before, the concepts of purgation and catharsis seem too religiously tainted to have been Joyce's means of transformation. In so many ways Joyce rejects the idea of purity and embraces the farts, bodily functions, sex, dear dirty Dublin so I see potential in the unity of contraries rather than the rejection of the impure. Does this idea have any stature in the classics?

Thomas wrote: "Susan wrote: "Are the words catharsis and purgation synonymous?"

As far as I know, yes. Purgation comes from Latin, and catharsis from Greek, but they amount to the same thing -- a purification by..."

This is my understanding of how the terms are commonly used in a modern context as well. I don't want to get too far off into the weeds of terminology, but for anyone who is interested, catharsis had a slightly broader meaning in Greek tragedy. This paper has a pretty good take on it, I think:

"Aristotle's use of the word catharsis is not a technical reference to purgation or purification but a beautiful metaphor for the peculiar tragic pleasure, the feeling of being washed or cleansed.

The tragic pleasure is a paradox. As Aristotle says, in a tragedy, a happy ending doesn't make us happy. At the end of the play the stage is often littered with bodies, and we feel cleansed by it all. Are we like Clytemnestra, who says she rejoiced when spattered by her husband's blood, like the earth in a Spring rain (Ag. 1389-92)? Are we like Iago, who has to see a beautiful life destroyed to feel better about himself (Oth. V, i, 18-20)?" (Sachs)



Also, I don't have a specific cite for this right now, but I always understood catharsis in the Classic sense to refer to the moment in a drama when a character realizes their own flaw(s) - generally too late to save themselves from their tragic end.

Kyle wrote: "Aristotle's use of the word catharsis is not a technical reference to purgation or purification but a beautiful metaphor for the peculiar tragic pleasure, the feeling of being washed or cleansed."

I like this distinction. In some sense both purgation and catharsis are metaphoric, but I like the concept of the tragic pleasure paradox. Is the feeling of being cleansed a transformation? Do you think the tragic pleasure paradox is at play in this episode?

Zippy wrote: "...and playing the part of Stephen: Munch's Scream...."

Love it! (Got to see one of the originals at MOMA a few years ago, some months after another edition had been stolen and not yet recovered (?).)

(view spoiler)[
The Scream (Norwegian: Skrik) by Edvard Munch
(Not 100% certain this is a copy of one of the originals versus a "based upon.")
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Patrice wrote: "This all reminds me of when I was in sixth grade and picked up the Outline of Psychoanalysis by AA Brill. I struggled to read it and when the word "cathartic" kept turning up I looked it up. The ..."

You were precocious, n'est-ce pas?

Susan wrote: "Is the feeling of being cleansed a transformation? Do you think the tragic pleasure paradox is at play in this episode? ..."

Yeah, I think there is a sense that his pain from a number of different sources had finally built up to an intolerable level and it all sort of burst out and washed over him at once. And he does experience a certain amount of relief. But also, this comes too late to avert tragedy (ie, Boylan, and to take it a level deeper, he can't have a do-over on any of the sexless years that have passed, on Rudy, or on anything else).

It is perhaps an open question at this point what ultimate effect the emotional release will have on him. The episode ends on an encouraging note as he takes stephen under his wing...

So, the catharsis, if we're going to call it that, is Bloom's assumption of a paternal role toward Stephen at the end of this chapter, as marked (in case we missed it) by Rudy's strange appearance?

Kathy wrote: "So, the catharsis, if we're going to call it that, is Bloom's assumption of a paternal role toward Stephen at the end of this chapter, as marked (in case we missed it) by Rudy's strange appearance?"

That sounds like more of a "taking on" than a purging -- but I think I understand the point you are asking, Kathy.

Kyle wrote: "Also, I don't have a specific cite for this right now, but I always understood catharsis in the Classic sense to refer to the moment in a drama when a character realizes their own flaw(s) - generally too late to save themselves from their tragic end. "

Thanks for the elaboration. Joyce knew Aristotle well, but as usual he avoids strict correspondence. I think he must have had the classical usage in mind, but he tweaks it a little. Or a lot.

In the Poetics, Aristotle talks about "harmartia," which is an error, or "missing the mark." In New Testament parlance, sin. In Greek tragedy this is what sets the play in motion. A great man or woman commits an error or sin due to a flaw in his or her character. Catharsis comes later, when the dire consequences of that sin are fully realized, and with this realization a kind of healing can take place. (For the audience at least, since the carrier of the fatal flaw is often destroyed by it.)

Bloom's sins set in motion the drama that unfolds. The way he rises to power as "the world's greatest reformer" only to be cast down because he is a "womanly man" is classic tragedy. In this case his sin is femininity, but I'm not sure if giving birth to eight yellow-and-white sons can be considered a catharsis. (Maybe this is Joyce mocking the classical form? Or maybe it just shows the close relationship between tragedy and comedy.)

Kathy asked (in the first half thread, I think) why this episode is cast in the form of a play. I'm not sure, but I think it must because Joyce wanted to play around with the dramatic form. Maybe it wasn't the classical form he had in mind, but Joyce was a huge fan of Ibsen and wrote a serious play himself, so it's no surprise to see a play of some sort crop up somewhere in the novel. If it tickled his fancy, he found some way to shove it in.

Patrice wrote: "It is interesting how he always "avoids strict correspondence". That would make reading this easier and make us lazier. He never gives us a break like that! ;-)"

But he hasn't managed to pull me into his fan club. :-(

Possibly a bit because so much of what was ground breaking when he wrote is now taken for granted or mutated into other forms, with its iconoclasm splintered into post-modern tropes.

Thomas wrote: "Bloom's sins set in motion the drama that unfolds...."

But Joyce rejected sin and the church. Although I can see how others might find evidence to support a religious interpretation, in my personal reading I don't see that Bloom has sinned. He makes choices that haven't hurt anyone and, in my opinion, it's only external judgement that labels his choices as sinful. I can only bring my experience to reading, which may be like a blind man tapping his stick.