ULYSSES Funmary #5: The Lotus Eaters

by SCOOTER THOMAS

Scooter Thomas, aspiring toward dolce far niente.

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My owners have asked me to write The Lotus Eaters Funmary for reasons which I find both flattering and deeply offensive. On one hand, they know that my astute critical analysis could enhance “The Lotus Eaters” chapter in illuminating and perhaps unexpected ways. I’ll take that as a compliment. On the other hand, they think that I, being a cat, am amply qualified to address themes of lethargy, drowsy complacence and lazy intoxication. Would that this vile canard die a quick and sudden death! Yes, our napping skills are superior to most, but that’s hardly reason to engage in gross slander against the entire feline species. One suspects humans think us totally worthless creatures incapable of rigorous scholarship or even basic motor skills. Yet again, I must light the candle of truth in this den of lies my owners call a home.

One other issue before we start: I must confess to feelings of loathing toward Mr. Bloom, who cowardly remarked to his own cat in the “Calypso” chapter — and I quote —

I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.

This is really repugnant. He is a contemptible man. I will do my best not to stoop to his level, but I cannot confess to being an unbiased commentator. This monster really boils my blood.

Ahem. On with it, then.

I trust that the Wandering Rocks readership is fully aware of the Odyssean parallel Joyce is using here. In his (quite rambling) epic poem The Odyssey, Homer describes Odysseus and his men escaping from Calypso’s island and being driven by a storm to the land of the Lotus Eaters, where the natives “live upon that flower,” the taste of which saps all desire to do anything except take a nice long nap. Odysseus “rescues” them, if that is the correct word, from this life of lazy idleness. (This Odysseus sounds like quite the nagging busybody, does he not?)

Thus Joyce employs similar motifs of intoxication and escapism in his reimagining of “The Lotus Eaters.” We are treated to a panoply of yawn-inducing images: Mr. Bloom’s tea-inspired daydreams about the far east, with its “big lazy leaves” and “flowers of idleness”; the “lazy pooling swirl of liquor” spilled out of train barrels; the chemist’s shop with its “drugs [that] age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night.” And consider the hour of day this takes place: mid-morning (the “slack hour,” as Bloomie calls it), as the contents of breakfast settle and everything in sight (a bed, the floor, the coffee table, an empty cardboard box) becomes a potential resting spot.

Joyce is not merely suggesting physical idleness either. Mr. Pervert Bloom’s worship experience at All Hallows offers a glimpse of spiritual stultification with its placating routines and comfortable ritual. (Congregants “don’t seem to chew” the communion wafer, only “swallow it down.”) Seeing as cats have usually not been welcome inside a Catholic church, I cannot speak from personal experience as to the verisimilitude of Bloomer’s impressions, though I find the idea of rinsing wine chalices with Guinness (or, for my tastes, port) rather inspired.

Finally we have the marital laziness of the Blooms, both trading love letters outside marriage; the one who won’t act on his impulses of infidelity is the one whose head we are trapped inside during this chapter, thus another type of complacence. On the subject of human infidelity and multiple partners, I will abstain from comment. We cats are not monogamous by nature, though I never had a say in the outcome as I was viciously castrated shortly after birth. (My current owners are not to blame for this, though my residual post-traumatic stress comes to bear against them first and foremost.)

On this note, I felt quite sympathetic toward the eunuchs Mr. Bloom considers when he looks at the choir loft, though I received no side benefit from losing my manhood such as a prolonged stay in the Papal Choir. No matter. My vocal skills are quite unpleasant. I would’ve sounded pretty much like my friend Burger here.

If my owners ever put me in a cage and stick a video camera in my face, so help me God — I will bring the pain like it has never been brought before.

(And lest you think that it’s cruel for poor Burger to be in a cage like that, you should know that he’s undergoing court-ordered rage counseling after second degree assault on his elderly owner’s ankles.)

Thank you for reading. I invite everyone to a spirited back-and-forth of intellectual discussion in the comment forum.

And Godspeed to “Hades”!

Mrkgnao!

ULYSSES pp. 82-86, “The Lotus Eaters”

by BEN and ERIN VORE

Dirk Diggler and Leopold Bloom: Kindred spirits.

The last page of today’s reading delivers the indelible image of Leopold’s unit (“the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower”). Did anyone else recall the final scene from P.T. Anderson’s Boogie Nights? We almost expected Leopold to say, “I’m a star. I’m a big, bright, shining star. That’s right.”

Leopold Bloom = The Dirk Diggler of early 20th century Dublin.

A tweet recap:

• 82. Choir loft makes LB think of Molly in Stabat Mater, “old sacred music,” eunuchs. Worship through eyes of an outsider: strange routines.
• 83. Confession: Not for everyone, but effective. LB ducks out before the offering, discreetly buttoning as he goes.
• 84. LB stops @ chemist’s 2 order Molly’s lotion but recipe (and key) are in his other pants. Asks chemist 2 check his files.
• 85. LB places order & buys soap. Unwittingly gives winning tip on horse race [Throwaway] to Bantam Lyons.
• 86. LB walks toward public baths, greets Hornblower, ponders cricket, anticipates lying naked in bath. Penis = ‘languid floating flower.’

The final line reiterates the obvious parallels to “The Lotus Eaters” in The Odyssey. What all these parallels mean, we’ll try to get at in next week’s Funmary. For now, a brief recap of the last five pages:

Leopold’s experience in church offers a rather amusing outsider’s perspective. He has considered his seat based on its proximity to an attractive woman. He has mistaken the Latin initials for Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews (I.N.R.I.) for “iron nails ran in.” He wonders why the chalice must hold wine instead of, say, Guinness. The choir loft causes him to reflect on eunuchs. And, when the Mass turns to English, Leopold thinks drily that the priest has thrown his congregation a bone.

Of note: one of the pieces of sacred music that Leopold recalls is Mercadante’s La sette ultime parole ( “The Seven Last Words of Our Savior on the Cross”), an oratorio based on the Gospel accounts of the Crucifixion. Blamires draws a connection to what will be the final seven words of Ulysses ( “yes I said yes I will Yes”).

Outside the church, Leopold heads for Sweny’s, a pharmacy. He has left the recipe for Molly’s lotion in his other trousers (along with his key), but he asks the chemist to check his prescriptions book. While he does that, Leopold ruminates about drugs and sedatives ( “Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever of nature”). The chemist also becomes the second person of this chapter to ask what perfume Molly uses.

In the street, Leopold runs into Bantam Lyons, who sees Bloom’s paper and wants to check the horse races. Leopold tells him he can keep the paper, which Bantam interprets as a tip (for the winning horse, Throwaway). Leopold greets the porter Hornblower and continues on toward the public baths where we get his Diggler-esque daydream. This brings to a close a chapter predominated by flowers, sedatives, opiates, scents, eastern exoticism, public leering, sexual fantasies, perverse fetishes and religious stupefaction.

Phew. We need to take a bath. Clean trough of water. Cool enamel. The gentle tepid stream…

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BEN: Time to throw out some questions for consideration?

ERIN: Like if the Dirk Diggler analogy is a stretch?

BEN: You think so?

ERIN: Let’s just stick to the script, shall we?

BEN: All right. Leopold clearly has some cynical thoughts about religion during the worship service, but is there any aspect of it that he admires?

ERIN: Fair enough. My turn. Would it be accurate to say that your last attempt to make Crock Pot casserole tasted like “paragoric poppysyrup”?

BEN: Now that’s just hurtful.

ERIN: I know. I’m sorry. It was delicious.

BEN: I’m curious: Have you ever heard someone’s voice “at your armpit,” the way Leopold heard Bantam’s?

ERIN: I’m also curious: Would you have become a eunuch had it secured a spot as a star performer in one of your college’s numerous a cappella groups?

BEN: Is that a trick question?

ERIN: I have a question that I’d like Jerry to expound upon: What’s the difference between a perv and a sweet perv?

BEN: I bet people would pay good money to hear Jerry answer that question. But at Wandering Rocks, they don’t have to — because it’s free!

ERIN: Hopefully if anyone else has a Lotus Eater question they will pass it along before we write our Funmary.

BEN: One can hope.

The Lotus Eaters Funmary: We’re coming for you!

Early next week!

ULYSSES pp. 76-81, “The Lotus Eaters”

by BEN and ERIN VORE

You can imply a lot of dirty things with a flower.

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We left off yesterday anticipating the illicit thrill of Martha Clifford’s love letter. But a Penthouse Letter it ain’t.

First, the tweets:

• 76. LB disparages M’Coy: A homosexual? Leah is playing tonight, causes Bloom to reflect on dad’s death (suicide).
• 77. LB bonds w/castrated horses. (Everyone is impotent.) Finds flower pinned to Martha’s letter. Martha’s a bad speller
• 78. Martha’s letter: “You’re a naughty boy!” Wants 2 meet Bloom & know what perfume Molly uses. LB thinks of manflower, cactus, nightstalk.
• 79. LB thinks of Mary & Martha. Tears up letter & scatters the shreds. The word ‘bungholes’ also appears on this page.
• 80. LB enters church, thinks of missionaries in China. The Good News=opium? Wants 2 sit next 2 a woman. Priest administers the sacrament.
• 81. LB misreads I.N.R.I. & I.H.S. Thinks of Molly’s letter, then ‘crawthumper’ Carey. Wonders: Why not Guinness for the chalice?

Now, Martha’s letter:

It’s a big letdown. Where to begin? How about the spelling errors and grammatical mistakes. “World” should be “word.” “Patience” is singular, not plural. Punctuation is spotty. And the phrase “naughty boy” or some variant appears four times. Martha wants to “punish” Henry? What about the poor reader?

After wondering what Martha pinned to her letter (a photo? hair? a badge?), Leopold discovers it is a flower. (A flower for Henry Flower.) Specifically, “a yellow flower with flattened petals.” It does not have a scent.

After reading Martha’s letter, Leopold begins mentally cataloguing virtually every flower-related sexual innuendo you could imagine. Ulysses Annotated helps steer our imagination:

Tulips: dangerous pleasures; manflower: an obvious pun; cactus: not only the phallus but also touch-me-not; forget-me-not: as the name suggests and also true love; violets: modesty; roses: love and beauty; anemone: frailty, anticipation; nightstalk: in addition to the phallic pun, nightshade; falsehood.

Leopold knows he will not take Martha up on her offer to meet, but he does resolve to “go further next time.” (Maybe suggest something kinky with a kniphofia?)

The pin from Martha’s letter makes Leopold think of a street rhyme about a girl named Mary losing the pin of her drawers, which leads to him contemplating the story of Mary and Martha from the Gospels. Leopold has himself his own Mary and Martha, if we take Molly-Marion = Mary.

Leopold tears up Martha’s envelope, and by extension himself as Henry Flower — he won’t act on his theoretical infidelity. Then he proceeds to All Hallows’ Church where, upon entering, he sees a notice about the African mission. Leopold, who as Lizaanne noted is disengaged from his faith on a spiritual level (but not an identity level), thinks of “Faith as a drug for the natives” (Blamires). Here we get our first taste of religion as an opiate. Leopold imagines the Eucharist as a sort of sedative, lulling the congregants into a stupor ( “Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don’t seem to chew it; only swallow it down”).

More along this train of thought when we conclude “Lotus Eaters.” Before we get to the essay questions, more examples of this section’s continuing theme of “drugged receptivity and impotence” (Blamires):

• The horses “with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Too full for words. … Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches.” [p. 77] (Did Joyce lift this from Equine Penthouse Letters?)
• “A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill” [p. 77]
• “Cigar has a cooling effect. Narcotic” [p. 78]
• “A huge dull flood [of Guinness] leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl” [p. 79]
• “Old fellow asleep near that confession box. Hence those snores. Blind faith. Safe in the arms of the kingdom come. Lulls all pain. Wake this time next year” [p. 81]

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:

• How has Leopold’s father’s suicide shaped him?
• For those who are rereading Ulysses: What is the significance of the Plumtree’s Potted Meat ad?
• What word did Leopold use in a previous letter which caused Martha to call him “naughty”? Use your imagination.
• If you wanted to have an affair with a married man, would you really ask what perfume his wife uses?
• Is Leopold a perv? He sure has a lot of fetishes: Silk stockings. Erotic correspondences. Churchgoing women. And he seems to have a thing for punishment.
• Have you ever seen such a stupid pussens as the pussens?

ESSAY QUESTION FOR EXTRA CREDIT! Write your own Ulysses Penthouse Letter using at least a half dozen types of flower. Bonus points for spelling errors and repetitious phrases!

Tomorrow, or probably more like Saturday: pp. 82-86!