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. 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!

ULYSSES pp. 60-65, “Calypso”

By LIZAANNE

Now that we’ve all had a chance to refuel (with our beverage of choice), time to get back on track with the next few pages of Calypso.  While the rest of the passengers are boarding, let’s take a few moments to review my tweets covering this section.  Pay careful attention, please, because Joyce loads us up with insight into Leopold and Molly Bloom over the course of these 6 pages:

60-LB buys sausage, avoiding eye contact w/ butcher; saunters back towards home, reading posters cut sheets adverting far-away farms; leads 2 daydream

61-recalls estranged friends; cloud brings dark thoughts of barren land & people; thinks of home & Molly 2 cheer up; @ home finds mail on mat

62-LB delivers postcard & letter 2 Molly in bed; moves dirty clothes; makes tea; cooks kidney; scans letter from daughter w/ fond memory

63-LB takes b-fast tray 2 Molly, sees she has opened letter; LB lavishly describes her body; letter is from her manager Boylan about concert

64-M asks L 2 define “metempsychosis” from her smutty book; he tries; he recalls day they met & how much he hates circuses; M wants new book

65-still explaining migration of souls; puts book in pocket; kidney burns; LB rescues it & eats alone in kitchen; thinks of daughter’s note

 Let me ‘splain– no, there is too much.  Let me sum up:

 1. Leo here follows the plan that he set out for himself earlier in the section, so we can see he is goal-oriented, which fits what we already know of him as a businessman.  He has his day planned out carefully.  So carefully, in fact, that he refuses to acknowledge any connection to the butcher (just as he previously only made small-talk with the store-keeper), lest it lead to something for which Leo is unprepared: “No: better not: another time” (60).  [side note– his reaction to Molly’s novel is certainly startling.  Who knew that Leo circus-o-phobic?]

2. Leo multi-tasks at home as he does the job of both husband and wife (cooking, tidying, bringing in the mail, organizing laundry, etc) because that slovenly, slug-a-bed Molly has yet to arise from her Spanish?, squeeky-springed mattress {as the astute Scooter Thomas noted, she is an excellent napper}; although she does awaken enough to gobble her breakfast and to clandestinely read the letter from her lover, Boylan.  

2a. As the first female character to be properly introduced in the novel, Madame Molly does not demand our sympathies.  Instead, she plays the part of the over-indulged and over-sexed nymphette to a tee (by having her tea and drinking it too, so to speak). 

2b. However, we do have her question about “metempsychosis” to thank for illuminating a central premise of this novel: the transference of Odysseus’s spirit into Leopold.  There’s also a nice little example for us pointing to Molly as a nymph.

3. Despite his domestic placidity, however, there are dark depths to our Irish Odysseus.  During his trip back home from the butcher’s, Leo is unexpectedly overcome by a wave of despair (interrupting another lovely daydream of ripening fruit in the Promised Land) when he sees a cloud pass over him–an example of pathetic fallacy in reverse.  This incident, although Leo dismisses it out of hand as “morning mouth” (61) clearly throws him off his stride.  It echoes Stephen’s previous imagery of barren lands and sexually-unproductive women, here with the added themes of the lost and abandoned Israelites throughout the world.  Leo’s feelings of loneliness and disconnection also match Odysseus’s emotions as he weeps at the shore of Calypso’s island. 

3. In another of his refreshing contrasts to Stephen, though, Leo does not wallow in his misery.  Thoughts of Molly lift him out of his funk and cheer him as he arrives home.  Thus, Leo manages to score two points up on our Stephen in that he successfully makes it back home without his key and he does it cheerfully [interestingly enough, Leo brings himself back by conjuring up pleasant sensory images– echoing the experiment Stephen was trying earlier]. OH– make that three points, Leo actually likes his family members and recalls them fondly, as evidenced by his brief flashback to when young Milly gave him the mustache cup for his birthday. 

Right, time for nibbles and questions.  Buy some sweets from the nice lady’s tray– mind the chocolate frogs. 

Questions for discussion:

–How many sexual innuendos did you count in these 6 pages?  The “tender gland” one doesn’t count as it is too easy. 

–What do you think was REALLY in that letter from young Master Boylan?

–Would you like to see the Blooms on an episode of “How Clean is Your House?”  Explain using details.

–Calculate the probability of the word “metempsychosis” appearing in an dirty novel about circuses to at least 10 decimal places.

Bonus points: 

 a. Jerry mentioned several posts ago that each section has its own color.  Can you identify the color for this section? 

b. Did you catch the cameo appearance of rosy-fingered Dawn?