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…

x

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!

ULYSSES pp. 71-75 “The Lotus Eaters”

by BEN and ERIN VORE

Have you wondered why you feel tempted to yawn when you see someone else yawning? Scientists term this “contagious yawning,” and suggest it may have something to do with one’s capacity for empathy. Depending on how empathetic you feel toward Leopold Bloom, you may be doing a lot of yawning this chapter. Like its Homeric parallel, The Lotus Eaters episode evokes drowsy complacence, escapism and intoxicating laziness. We’ll get to how this all intertwines with Leopold’s imagination, his marriage, his thoughts on religion and his epistolary infidelity with Martha Clifford.

But first, tag-twreading!

• 71. LB takes circuitous route to post office. Distracted by copy of tea ad. Imagines the far east, land of “big lazy leaves,” idleness.
• 72. LB tries to recall high school physics before sending his letter & receiving one, addressed to “Henry Flower.” Bloom’s pseudonym.
• 73. LB about to read letter when M’Coy interrupts him. LB not good at small talk. Spots a woman getting into her cab, starts fantasizing.
• 74. LB completely tunes out M’Coy, hopes for a glimpse of leg. Blocked by tram. Paradise and the peri: so near to paradise, but not quite.
• 75. LB now distracted by potted meat ad. Husbands talk about wives, both singers. M’Coy asks LB 2 write his name in funeral register.

It’s ten o’clock when the chapter starts, an hour before poor Dignam’s funeral: “Slack hour.” Bloom is wandering, physically and mentally. He’s taking a roundabout way to the post office, which we’ll soon realize is due to his secret correspondence with a woman named Martha Clifford. Note the many descriptors which emphasize laziness. A small girl “listlessly” holds a caskhoop. Leopold’s eyes are under “dropped lids.” He imagines the far east, land of the Oriental Tea Company, as “the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on.” The Cinghalese, an ethnic group of Sri Lanka, lob (lounge) around in the sun all day,

Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flower of idleness. The air feeds most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Sensitive plants. Waterlilies. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air.

Yeesh. Pardon us while we go take a three hour nap.

We also discover that Molly is not the only Bloom writing and receiving love letters outside the bonds of marriage. Leopold has assumed the name “Henry Flower” (Bloom = Flower) for his literary indiscretions with Martha. We don’t get to see what Martha’s letter says because Leopold runs into M’Coy. As Lizaanne noted in “Calypso,” Bloom doesn’t handle distractions well. His first thought when he sees M’Coy is to “get rid of him quickly.” When that doesn’t happen, he diverts his attention to the woman across the street getting into her cab, hoping, praying he’ll catch a glimpse of her leg. ( “Watch! Watch! Silk flash rich stockings white. Watch!”) A tram passes, blocking Bloom’s view, which causes him to curse its “noisy pugnose.”

Bloom and M’Coy wrap up their conversation by talking about their wives, both singers. Leopold thinks back to the morning scene of Molly in bed, which sends his thoughts to the “torn strip of envelope,” i.e. Molly’s looming infidelity with Blazes Boylan. But the “torn strip of envelope” could also describe what’s in Leopold’s pocket, as he crumbled Martha’s envelope there just before running into M’Coy.

Interesting sidenote: According to Ulysses Annotated, “to pot one’s meat” is crude slang for copulation. Sex always sells.

Some questions we’d like you to consider:

BEN: Is it acceptable to write love letters outside marriage?

ERIN: Why would you ask a question like that?

BEN: I’m just trying to get at the difference, if any, between thoughts of infidelity and acts of infidelity.

ERIN: What you’re trying to get at is a bed downstairs on the couch tonight.

BEN: Fine, you ask a better question.

ERIN: All right. How do I look in my eye patch?

BEN: I told you. I think you look lovely. How many times do I have to say it?

ERIN: One more.

BEN: You’re the hottest thing in an eye patch since Kurt Russell in Escape From New York.

ERIN: Aww, you’re so sweet. All right, final question: If this whole chapter is about languor and laziness, how come we haven’t seen the Bloom’s cat yet? What says “drowsy complacence” better than a cat?

Tomorrow: Pages 76-80!

A “Lotus-Eaters” Preview And The Merits Of A Kinesthetic Learning Approach To Ulysses

by BEN and ERIN VORE

We’ve got our work cut out for us. After Lizaanne very capably and efficiently funmarized “Calyspo,” the bar has been set quite high for “The Lotus-Eaters.” We will begin tag-twreading it tomorrow with posts to follow.

In preparation for our assignment, and to immerse ourselves in all things Joyce, one of us has been wearing an eyepatch ever since Wandering Rocks launched.

Yarrrrr, matey!

This led to the following conversation which took place in the Vore bathroom this morning:

BEN [sitting on toilet]: I notice you don’t take your eyepatch off when you shower.

ERIN [in towel and eyepatch]: Yeah. So?

BEN: It’s really starting to smell.

ERIN: You’re taking a dump and you’re telling me my eyepatch smells?

BEN: I’m a kinesthetic learner. If I want to really understand Leopold’s scatalogical fetishes, I’ve got to walk a mile in the man’s shoes.

ERIN: You’ve been on the pot since Thursday.

BEN: Have I?

ERIN: And you’ll never finish “The Lotus-Eaters” episode so we can write it together if all you do is read — and then wipe yourself with — a prize titbit titled Matcham’s Masterstroke.

BEN: But it’s quite good! It has inspired me to manage a sketch.

ERIN: Has it.

SCOOTER THOMAS [sauntering into the room]: Mkgnao!

ERIN: I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.

BEN: Wait. Is he wearing a little kitty eyepatch too?

SCOOTER THOMAS: Mrkgnao!

BEN: That looks ridiculous on him.

ERIN: I think he looks cute.

BEN: And Leopold thought cats were the cruel animal.

ERIN: Hush. Tell me — which dress goes best with my eyepatch?

The marital hijinks and astute literary analysis continue tomorrow!

Bring on The Lotus Eaters!

(Mrkgnao!)

Odyssey Funmaries #6: The Lotus Eaters (Book IX.I-LXX)

by BEN VORE

Those of you still reeling from yet another pastel color-coded schedule should take comfort in today’s assignment for The Lotus Eaters, an episode from The Odyssey which merits — wait for it — a whopping 25 lines. Thus, this funmary is going to have three primary objectives:

1. Detailed exploration of margin settings and font sizes so as to stretch this puppy out to a suitable length for completion.
2. Some recapping of what has transpired since butt-naked, brine-encrusted Odysseus got creative with an olive branch. 
3. Some actual thoughts about the Lotus Eaters (not to be confused with The Lotus Eaters).

First, though, let’s watch a cat play a keyboard!

 

Man, that’s brilliant. I mean, it looks as though the cat is actually playing the notes! And he’s wearing a cute little shirt too!

Ahem. On with the funmary, and a lightning-quick recap of what has taken place since Nausicaa brought Odysseus home to meet the parents:

Queen Arete and King Alcinous are such hospitable and generous hosts that they welcome Odysseus into their home without even asking who he is. (Had Homer opted to take the epic poem in a grislier, made-for TV thriller direction, Arete and Alcinous would have been the oblivious murder victims who pick up a hitchhiker carrying an axe and then, after making sure he’s comfortable in the back seat with food and drink, ask if they can sharpen the blade for him.) Odysseus gives them the woe-is-me-I’ve-been-bedding-up-with-nymphs speech and stuffs his face with their food. The next day he takes part in a pentathlon and then listens to a blind guy named Demodocus perform two songs, one of which is about the Trojan War and, specifically, Odysseus and Achilles. Scholars are divided on the form of these songs; more recent Homeric enthusiasts such as Robert Christgau contend that Demodocus was a prog rock enthusiast who used a timbral palette heavy on electronic keyboards and Moog synthesizers, and who changed time signatures as if his life depended on it. Still-anonymous Odysseus finally reveals himself once Demodocus starts crooning about the Trojan Horse, which leads to his recounting of how storms drove his crew off course to the land of the Lotus Eaters.

The Lotus Eaters were, essentially, addicts. They loved the sweet, narcotic taste of the lotus plants (described as “honey-sweet fruit” — I’m thinking something along the lines of a Honey Nut Cheerios fruit smoothee). Once Odysseus’s crew starts hanging around with the Lotus Eaters, they become fellow deadbeats. They

lost all desire to send a message back, much less return,

their only wish to linger there with the Lotus-eaters,

grazing on lotus, all memory of the journey home

dissolved forever. [9.107-110]

 

Odysseus rouses them from their complacent slumber and lashes them under the rowing benches so everyone can hightail it out of there. 

There are numerous parallels to lotus in pop culture down through the ages (think, for example, of Turkish Delight in The Chronicles of Narnia or soma in Brave New World). Medical researchers today are rather certain that Swedish Fish have the same chemical properties and lethargy-inducing effects as lotus, particularly when ingested by the box. 

So is this episode simply one big “Just Say No” ad campaign disguised in epic verse? The detrimental effects of the lotus start small by offering temporary relief from the daily grind (in the case of Odysseus’s crew, constant seastorms, occasional death and, unlike the captain, not-getting-any from nymph goddesses) but escalate by making a bed so comfortable and enticing one never wants to get out of it. The root temptation here is escapism. The lesson for those of us who 1) don’t care for the taste of lotus, and/or 2) have kicked or avoided altogether any crippling addictions to narcotics*, is that our lotus could be almost anything, even the most commonplace. The currently unemployed Jerry Grit’s lotus may very well be this blog.** Mine, in the course of writing this post, was spending an hour on YouTube researching Keyboard Cat. What is your lotus? All of us find our central ambitions derailed by the prospect of temporal, ignorant bliss. If we are not strong enough (or disciplined, obedient, wise or simply lucky enough), we can only hope our own Odysseus should lash us under the rowing bench as we stroke to safety. Or, as the case may be, into the path of a foul-tempered Cyclops.

Countdown to Bloomsday…

Don’t let lotus-eating interfere with YOUR central ambition!

We read page 1 of Ulysses in 13 days!

 

* = If you are considering developing a possible addiction to drugs of any sort, may we recommend you watch Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem For a Dream? Doing so would also enhance your critical understanding of the Lotus Eaters episode as a whole. Maybe make it a twinbill with Red Dawn!

** = PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYER: “So, according to your resume, you’ve been spending your recent stint of unemployment by — do I have this correct? — ‘forming an online reading collective for James Joyce’s Ulysses’? And this involves pornographic pictures of barely-clothed 80s wrestlers how, exactly?” JERRY GRIT: “Let me explain.” PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYER: “Oh, please do!”