Episode 11: Sirens (Literary technique: Fuga per canonem (fugue or polyphony by rule: weaving of various voices and motifs in counterpoint to one another). Art: Music. Time: 38 40 pm. Place: Ormond Hotel

Bloom notices the Bailey light on Howth, where he had proposed to Molly sixteen years ago

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Bloom notices the Bailey light on Howth, where he had proposed to Molly sixteen years ago.
Howth. Bailey light. Two, four, six, eight, nine. See. Has to change or

they might think it a house. Wreckers. Grace Darling. People afraid of the

dark. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Jewels diamonds flash

better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt you.

Better now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through the

small guts for nothing. Still two types there are you bob against.

Scowl or smile. Pardon! Not at all. Best time to spray plants too in the

shade after the sun. Some light still. Red rays are longest. Roygbiv

Vance taught us: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.

A star I see. Venus? Can't tell yet. Two. When three it's night. Were

those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. No.

Wait. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Mirage. Land of the setting

sun this. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. My native land,

Dew falling. Bad for you, dear, to sit on that stone. Brings on white

fluxions. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his way

up through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer cold, sore on

the mouth. Cut with grass or paper worst. Friction of the position.

Like to be that rock she sat on. O sweet little, you don't know how nice

you looked. I begin to like them at that age. Green apples. Grab at all

that offer. Suppose it's the only time we cross legs, seated. Also the

library today: those girl graduates. Happy chairs under them. But it's

the evening influence. They feel all that. Open like flowers, know

their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, in ballrooms, chandeliers,

avenues under the lamps. Nightstock in Mat Dillon's garden where I kissed

her shoulder. Wish I had a full length oilpainting of her then. June

that was too I wooed. The year returns. History repeats itself.

Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Life, love, voyage round

your own little world. And now? Sad about her lame of course but must

be on your guard not to feel too much pity. They take advantage.
All quiet on Howth now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The

rhododendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums, and I the

plumstones. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change:

that's all. Lovers: yum yum.
Thinking of his letter to Martha (c/o P.O. Dolphin Barn), Bloom recalls meeting Molly before their marriage “in Luke Doyle’s house” (8 Carmac Place, Dolphin’s Barn).
Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out

of me, little wretch. She kissed me. Never again. My youth. Only once it

comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the

same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing new

under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphin's Barn. Are you not happy in your?

Naughty darling. At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Mat

Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty.

Molly too. Eightyseven that was. Year before we. And the old major,

partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child, I an only

child. So it returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest

way round is the shortest way home. And just when he and she. Circus horse

walking in a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's

overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Then

I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching.

Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. All changed.

Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew.
Ba. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Thinks I'm a tree,

so blind. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. They believed you could be

changed into a tree from grief. Weeping willow. Ba. There he goes.

Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Belfry up there. Very likely.

Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. Bell scared him out, I

suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray for us.

And pray for us. And pray for us. Good idea the repetition. Same

thing with ads. Buy from us. And buy from us. Yes, there's the light

in the priest's house. Their frugal meal. Remember about the mistake

in the valuation when I was in Thom's. Twentyeight it is. Two houses

they have. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Ba. Again. Wonder why

they come out at night like mice. They're a mixed breed. Birds are

like hopping mice. What frightens them, light or noise? Better sit still.

All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of a

jar by throwing in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he is with tiny

hands. Weeny bones. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a bluey white.

Colours depend on the light you see. Stare the sun for example

like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Wants to

stamp his trademark on everything. Instance, that cat this morning on the

staircase. Colour of brown turf. Say you never see them with three

colours. Not true. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the CITY ARMS

with the letter em on her forehead. Body fifty different colours. Howth

a while ago amethyst. Glass flashing. That's how that wise man what's his

name with the burning glass. Then the heather goes on fire. It can't be

tourists' matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rub together in the wind

and light. Or broken bottles in the furze act as a burning glass in the

sun. Archimedes. I have it! My memory's not so bad.
Ba. Who knows what they're always flying for. Insects? That bee last week

got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might be the

one bit me, come back to see. Birds too. Never find out. Or what they say.

Like our small talk. And says she and says he. Nerve they have to fly over

the ocean and back. Lots must be killed in storms, telegraph wires.

Dreadful life sailors have too. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers

floundering along in the dark, lowing out like seacows. FAUGH A BALLAGH!

Out of that, bloody curse to you! Others in vessels, bit of a handkerchief

sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow.

Married too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the earth somewhere.

No ends really because it's round. Wife in every port they say. She has a

good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. If ever he

does. Smelling the tail end of ports. How can they like the sea? Yet they

do. The anchor's weighed. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal

on him for luck. Well. And the tephilim no what's this they call it poor

papa's father had on his door to touch. That brought us out of the land

of Egypt and into the house of bondage. Something in all those

superstitions because when you go out never know what dangers. Hanging

on to a plank or astride of a beam for grim life, lifebelt round him,

gulping salt water, and that's the last of his nibs till the sharks

catch hold of him. Do fish ever get seasick?
Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid,

crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones' locker, moon looking down so

peaceful. Not my fault, old cockalorum.
Third person narrator interrupts Bloom’s meditations.
A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search

of funds for Mercer's hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of

violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. The shepherd's

hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to house, giving his

everwelcome double knock, went the nine o'clock postman, the

glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel

hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at

Leahy's terrace. By screens of lighted windows, by equal gardens a shrill


OF THE GOLD CUP RACE! and from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out

and called. Twittering the bat flew here, flew there. Far out over the

sands the coming surf crept, grey. Howth settled for slumber, tired of

long days, of yumyum rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night

breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye

unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on

Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom.
Bloom debates what to do next and resists the desire to return home.
Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you

dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for LEAH,

LILY OF KILLARNEY. No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital to see.

Hope she's over. Long day I've had. Martha, the bath, funeral, house of

Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Then that bawler in

Barney Kiernan's. Got my own back there. Drunken ranters what I said about

his God made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or? No. Ought to go home and

laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in company. Afraid to be

alone like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. Look at it other way round.

Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he meant. Three cheers for Israel.

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. But Dignam's put the boots on it.

Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know. Anyhow she

wants the money. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I promised. Strange

name. Takes it for granted we're going to pop off first. That widow

on Monday was it outside Cramer's that looked at me. Buried the poor

husband but progressing favourably on the premium. Her widow's mite.

Well? What do you expect her to do? Must wheedle her way along.

Widower I hate to see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man O'Connor wife and five

children poisoned by mussels here. The sewage. Hopeless. Some good

matronly woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter

face and a large apron. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings

a pair, astonishing bargain. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they say.

Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we

die. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the

trick. U. p: up. Fate that is. He, not me. Also a shop often noticed.

Curse seems to dog it. Dreamt last night? Wait. Something confused. She

had red slippers on. Turkish. Wore the breeches. Suppose she does? Would

I like her in pyjamas? Damned hard to answer. Nannetti's gone. Mailboat.

Near Holyhead by now. Must nail that ad of Keyes's. Work Hynes and

Crawford. Petticoats for Molly. She has something to put in them. What's

that? Might be money.
Narrator points out that Bloom finds a piece of paper (Stephen’s poem?) and he is compelled to write as well.
Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He

brought it near his eyes and peered. Letter? No. Can't read. Better go.

Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and

pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with

story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children

always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the waters.

What's this? Bit of stick.
O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come

here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back.

Murderers do. Will I?
Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write

a message for her. Might remain. What?
Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide comes

here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark mirror,

breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. O,

those transparent! Besides they don't know. What is the meaning of that

other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not like.
AM. A.
No room. Let it go.
Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand.

Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here.

Except Guinness's barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by

He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck.

Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn't. Chance.

We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made me

feel so young.
Bloom sits down and begins to doze off.
Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long

gone.. Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast.

I won't go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a

moment. Won't sleep, though. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat

again. No harm in him. Just a few.
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 bubs 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.
A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr

Bloom with open mouth, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed.

Just for a few




The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house cooed where Canon

O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were

taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup

and talking about




Because it was a little canarybird that came out of its little house to

tell the time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there because

she was as quick as anything about a thing like that, was Gerty MacDowell,

and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was sitting on

the rocks looking was



Chapter named for the princess whom Ulysses meets when he lands exhausted on the shore of Scheria. Although she falls in love with him and wants to marry him, and though he is graciously entertained by her parents, he opts to head home. In this chapter, Nausicaa appears as Gerty MacDowell, a sentimental young woman who falls in love with Bloom when she she sees him on the beach at Sandymount Strand. In the first half of the chapter, she constructs her own fantasy about htir relationship, culminating in an erotic exhibtion as she leans back to watch fireworks. The second half shows her from Bloom’s point of view. Having been roused to orgasmic excitement by the sight of her underwear, he finds that she is lame, and though he thinks about her from time to time, his thoughts and feelings come home to Molly—and to his own predicament as a wandering husband of unfixed identity.
Bloom here seeks relief from his long day of trying experiences in the pleasure of looking at a lovely young girl sitting on the beach at Sandymount.
Gerty: Nausicaa—Uly. Meets N. on the shore after he leaves the island of the nymph Calypso. He’s exhausted from swimming for two days after a storm wrecks his raft, and falls asleep on the beach. N. and her handmaidens discover him while they are playing ball. His naked body frighten all but the princess.
Bloom seen by Gerty: the reader gets our first detailed description of the novel’s protagonist. Compare the narrator of Cyclops, B seen only as an object of contempt. For Gerty, B=”dreamhusband.” She sees “a haunted sorrow” in his face. Her sentimental longing makes her idealize him, and the comedy of the chapter springs from the gap between her vision and Bloom’s reality.
Gerty=narcissistic, jilted young woman aching for someone to lover, and sees herself as a refuge for sinners: “a beacon to the stomtossed heart of man”=Virgin Mary. Although she seems to offer love to a man who badly needs it, Gerty’s “pure” beauty is the product of artifice, and her sentimental fantasies about herself and Bloom wage war with life:

  • Her beauty product of cosmetics.

  • She can’t bear to think of bodily functions, much less perform them.

  • She wishes she could eat “something poetical like violets.”

  • Her dreams of love make no place for anything sexual.

  • She hates children, such as “the exasperating little brats of twins.”

  • She thinks spitefully of her friends.

Although se casts herself as the Virgin Mary, a source of spiritual refuge and an object of devotion, she shows off her underwear to excite Bloom’s desire for her. She narcissistically imagines that Bloom is “worshipping at her shrine.” Turning the sacred into the sexual, she makes herself an object of erotic devotion.

Gerty=contradictons: virgin and temptress, refuge of sinners and sexy exhibitionist, specimen of purity and product of cosmetics, devotee of love and hater of all things living.
Bloom=contradictions: as would-be prophet (Elijah) and Christ figure who now becomes a masturbator.

  • Because his manhood has been questioned, B. demonstrates his potency.

  • Exercising a Ulyssean restraint by keeping his distance from the young woman, he confines his excitement to the privacy of his trouser pocket.

  • Given all the pains and problems of his day, he has merely sought a harmless “relief.”

  • All things considered, Hugh Kenner argues that Bloom’s masturbation is “heroic.”

After learning that Gerty is lame, Bloom’s sympathy for her condition shows that unlike Gerty, Bloom understands love:

  • Finding her lame, he doesn’t simply dismiss her as damaged goods.

  • Given that she’s been jilted by her boyfriend and is left behind by her girl friends, Bloom evidently sees her as a fellow outcast, because he knows only too well what it is to be stigmatized. Sees what they have in common.

  • He sympathizes not only with her but with other other women—with Mrs. Purefoy in labor, with mothers struggling to raise children, with his daughter Milly, first straining against a corset.

Bloom struggles against depression and a sense of futility. Homeward bounds in his thoughts.

Having masturbated, he feels psychic as well as physical detumescence. Knowing that his seed is wasted in the sand, he reflects on the sterility of his life.
Trying to leave a message for Gerty by writing with a stick, he writes: “I AM A” (reader fill in). As if to show us that no category can define him.
Episode 14: Oxen of the Sun (Literary technique: Embyronic development). Art: Medicine. Time: 10.00-11.00 pm. Place: Holles St. Maternity Hospital.
Based on the budget in Ithaca, Bloom returns to the city by the Sandymount tram, which would have dropped him near the main entrance of the maternity hospital. He enters around 10.00 in the guise of an anonymous weary wayfarer. There are two nurses on duty, one is Nurse Callan, in whose tenement on Holles St. the Blooms had lived nine years earlier. There is a small gathering of medical students and other young men, including Stephen, eating and drinking in a staff room or refectory of the clinic. Young Dr. Dixon, who had treated Bloom for a bee sting a few weeks before, when still employed at the Mater Hospital in Eccles St., recognizes him and invites him in to join them. The company Bloom finds gathered round the table includes Dixon, Lynch, Madden, Lenehan, Crotthers (a Scotsman), Costello, and Dedalus. They will be joined later by Mulligan and Bannon, who has just arrived from Mullingar, and is the “young student” mentioned in Milly Bloom’s letter to her father.
Amidst the drunken discussions and ribald talk, Bloom manages to remain sober till the end. The birth of Mrs. Purefoy’s baby is announced at last.
At the end of the episode, the revelers head for Burke’s pub (17 Holles St.), on the corner of Holles and Denzille (Fenian) St. They pass the junction with Denzille Lane on their left where street urchins ask for money and someone, possibly Bloom, tells them to “Scoot.” They stay in Burke’s until closing time at 11.00pm, when they are thrown out (“Get you gone”). Stephen intends to make for Westland Row station, to take a train across the loopline to Amiens Street station, close to the brothels, where he hopes to meet his favorite prostitute, Georgina Johnson, who he subsequently learns is married. Hearing of the fire in Mount Street (the repeated “Pflaap!” may echo the sounds of the reins being repeatedly whipped against the backs of horses drawing the engines, most of the drinkers run back south down Holles St., turning into Merrion Square North. Stephen and Lynch turn right into Denzille Lane; Bloom follows (first time that Bloom has followed Stephen).
Joyce in a letter to Frank Budgen:
Am working hard at Oxen of the Sun, the idea being the crime committed against fecundity by sterilizing the act of coition. Scene, lying-in hospital. Technique: a nineparted episode without divisions: (Coition:) introduced by a Salustian-Tacitean prelude (the unfertilized ovum), (Month 1:) then by the way of earliest English alliterative and monosyllabic and Anglo-Saxon (“Before born the babe had bliss. Within the womb he won worship.” “Bloom dull dreamy heard: in held hat stony staring”) (Month 2:) then by way of Mandeville (“there came forth a scholar of medicine that men clepen etc”) (Month 3:) then Malory’s Morte d’Arthur (“but that franklin Lenehan was prompt ever to pour them so that at the least way mirth should not lack”), (Month 4:) then the Elizabethan chronicle style (“about that present time young Stephen filled all cups”), (Month 5:) then a passage solemn, as of Milton, Taylor, Hooker, followed by a choppy Latin-gossipy bit, style of Burton-Browne, (Month 6:) then a passage of Bunyanesque (“the reason was that in the way he fell in with a certain whore whose name she said is Bird in the Hand”) (Month 7:) after a diarystyle bit Pepys-Evelyn (“Bloom sitting snug with a party of wags, among them Dixon jun., Ja. Lynch, Doc. Madden and Stephen D. for a languor he had before and was now better, he having dreamed tonight a strange fancy and Mistress Purefoy there to be delivered, poor body, two days past her time and the midwives hard put to it, God send her quick issue”) (Month 8:) and so on through Defoe-Swift and Steele-Addison and Landor-Pater-Newman (Month 9:) until it ends in a frightful jumble of Pidgin English, nigger English, Cockney, Irish, Bowery slang and broken doggerel. This progression is also linked back at each part subtly with some foregoing episode of the day, and, besides this, with athe natural stages of development in the embryo and the periods of faunal evolution in general. The double-thudding Anglo-Saxon motive recurs from time to time (“Loth to move from Horne’s house”) to give the sense of the hoofs of oxen. Bloom is spermatozoon, the hospital the womb, the nurse the ovum, Stephen the embryo.
Narrative Action

  1. Incantation to the hospital, to the sun and to Sir Andrew Horne, the head of the hospital, and a midwife’s cry announcing the sex of a new infant, followed by a confused Latinate tract on child welfare, assumed to represent the chaos preceding creation.

  2. Introduction of the hospital and its master. Bloom addresses his old friend Nurse Callan and inquires after Dr. O’Hare and is informed he died three years earlier of stomach cancer. They are joined by Dr. Dixon, who once treated Bloom’s bee sting in the Mater Hospital near Bloom’s house. Bloom reluctantly agrees to join a party in the hospital reception room.

  3. Bloom enters to see a table on which are tin of sardines and some beer. Bloom accepts a glass but pours most of it into his neighbors. The students and Stephen discuss the proper course of action to be taken when a choice has to be made between the life of a child and a mother. They agree that the official position of saving the child is not correct. When Bloom’s opinion is sought, he evades the issue with a joke about the Church’s profiting financially by both birth and death. Bloom, concerned about Mrs. Purefoy and remembering the loss of his own eleven-day-old son, now looks at Stephen lovingly and with some trepidation at his drunkenness and present company. Stephen delivers a sermon on the two Eves—Adam’s and Mary— while asserting the artist’s superiority over Mary, who gave us Christ, as a producer of the Word.

  4. Costello begins to sing a bawdy song and Nurse Quigley attempts to quiet them. Dixon and Lenehan question Stephen about his earlier religious education, teasing him about his rumored sexual exploits. Another Costello ballad is interrupted by a loud thunderclap as Lynch warns Stephen that God has heard his blasphemy. Stephen, though afraid, responds that God himself is in his cups. Bloom tries to calm Stephen’s fears with a typical pseudoscientific explanation of a natural phenomenon.

  5. As the narrator describes the universal lust of the company and the use of contraceptions, the storm outside is described as Mulligan meets his cousin Alec Bannon and is told of a new girl in Mullingar, whom we know to be Milly. Inside, Lenehan comments on the appearance of Deasy’s letter in the evening paper, and Bloom becomes alarmed and incredulous at what he thinks is a proposal to slaughter cattle. He speaks about his days as a clerk with Cuffe’s at the cattle market. The talk of cattle inspires a conversation between Lynch and Dixon about bulls and the Irish church as they spin out a travesty of Irish history in terms of John Bull and papal bulls, concluding with the Irish setting sail for America.

  6. Mulligan and Bannon enter with Mulligan proposing a national fertilizing farm where he will impregnate women as a public service (the idea links him with Boylan, the great incubator at Bloom’s fertility farm). Bannon launches out in praise of his new conquest. A dialogue follows in which contraceptives and rain gear mix in a series of double entrendres, interrupted by Nurse Callan speaking to Dixon who announces the birth of a boy to Mrs. P.

  7. Bloom becomes irritated at the group’s harsh indelicacies regarding women. There follows a long and ribald speculation about whose fault Mrs. P’s pregnancy really was as Bloom wonders how such frivolous students became medical practitioners. There is a long series of questions regarding Bloom’s own position as an outsider and contradictions that suggest he is a hypocrite.

  8. Meanwhile, the conversation continues with a medical discussion of defects and birth abnormalities, artificial insemination, copulation with animals, and the rights of twins. Talk is stopped by Mulligan who conjures up a picture of Haines as the murderer of Samuel Childs poisons himself after seeing the vision of a black panther. Mulligan’s horror story links the suicide of Bloom’s father, the conversation that morning about Haines’s nightmare, Stephen’s failure to meet Mulligan that afternoon, and Stephen’s Hamlet and consubstantiality theories.

  9. Bloom lapses into memory as a schoolboy and his first sexual encounter along with a opiumlike dream of a young girl following her mother through a dead land and a vision of Martha-Milly-Ruby,pride of the ring=composite female inspiration figure.

  10. Costello reminds Stephen of their days together at Clongowes, and Stephen responds that he can, at will, conjure up phantoms of the past. He is reminded by Lynch that he has little more than “a capful of light odes” to his credit. Stephen sinks into a dark mood while the rest discuss the Ascot Gold Cup Race and Lynch tells of an encounter he and his girl had with Father Conmee.

  11. Discussion shifts to the number of births despite the difficulty of the process, and Stephen describes God as an omnivorous being who ingests all sorts of corpses. He is admonished by the narrator followed by a sentimental Dickensian interlude of cameos of Mrs. P. and her baby. Bloom thinks about his son.

  12. The scene is interrupted by a storm cloud described in terms of birth giving, primal watering, and fertility as the word is born: Burke’s! The word seems too insignificant to be the philosophical basis of the chapter, but the revelers are set in motion as if they heard the word of God himself. This anticlimactic climax is what we have come to expect by this point in the novel.

  13. The rowdy group leaves the hospital, with only Bloom remaining behind momentarily to send a kind word to the new mother. The concluding four pages are a nearly indistinguishable polyglot of contemporary dialects and slang. It foreshadows the language of Finnegans Wake. The meaning is decipherable, however: As the language approaches chaos (presumably akin to the chaos of the 20th century), still meaning is possible: the drinkers place their orders; Bloom winds his watch; he is discussed in terms of his house and wife; Mulligan explains how his aunt thinks that Stephen is a bad influence on him; reference to many of the topics related to the day’s events, including the Ascot Gold Cup Race. One interesting customer in the bar is the man in the macintosh, who may have been visiting the Richmond Hospital with a social disease, has been married and has lost his wife, and is now down and out. We are left with only suspicions.

  14. The barman who has been calling time throws them out. Stephen and Lynch decide to make for Nighttown. On their way they see a sign advertising the evangelist John Alexander Dowie’s sermon in the Merrion Hall. The episode closes with a spate of evangelical oratory combined with cough-mixture sales jargon and a wild parody of Dowie’s sermon.

Note: the opening sentences (the unfertilized ovum) are syntactically incomplete, and the episode ends with the door bursting open to allow the party of revelers egress to a nearby pub (the breaking of waters as Mina Purefoy finally gives birth). Significant that if Bloom is to become the surrogate parent of Stephen their first real encounter should occur in a lying-in hospital.

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