JOYCE		LUCK CLUB
DUBLINERS	ULYSSES	THE PORTRAIT

Chapter 15 / CIRCE - What is the purpose of this chapter? / The Hallucinations in Circe: Hello! Would anybody want to elaborate on the purpose or idea (I am not comfortable with using the word: purpose because I can imagine one or the other of you saying, 'well, what is the purpose of living?' !!) of this chapter, Circe? I have started rereading it, and the above question comes up, very naturally. Is the entire episode to be understood - on the simplest level - as being the result of the drinking orgy they had experienced earlier? Such hallucinations!! When we started reading Joyce, about an year ago, I went through many discussions (with myself and others) of how to read Joyce. Reading Dubliners was 'easy sailing'. One could read it as stories, and later worry about all the many things Joyce offers in them. Reading Portrait was like eating a plum, easy sailing after the first few pages, though now I that have started rereading it, I realise HOW MUCH I missed during that first reading. Till I started reading Ulysses, I was the firm opinion that one should discover a writer by oneself, one should read the work and then look for comments, critical analyses, what have you. Now at this stage of reading Ulysses I am not sure that this method applies to Ulysses at all. Comments s.v.p? Chandra This fifteenth chapter, spanning approx. one-fifth of the entire novel, the chapter upon which Joyce spent the most time writing and re-writing, is VERY imposing. Like an alchemist's crucible, the chapter gathers together all the characters and symbolic strands in the work and transmutes them -- combines them in such a way and in such a relationship to Bloom and Stephen, that they take a new shape and meaning. I don't think the concept can be expained merely on the basis of a drunken episode -- for one, Bloom has had no alcohol (yet many of the hallucinations are his). The main purpose of the episode is to codify the relationship between Stephen and Bloom -- it is here, in the unconscious life, that their problems are resolved; significantly, the revelations of each require the presence of the other. This is the purpose as I see it. The form can be debated -- why a play format? For this, I can only guess. And -- regarding a reading technique to adopt for Joyce: it seems a staple of all great authors that such a scheme must inevitably fall short of the artistic whole and the reader must meet him on his own terms. Such is the case with Dante, Milton, and -- I believe -- Joyce. Another note on Circe as reorganizing the novel for the unconscious life: The only true hallucination of the chapter is Stephen's encounter with his mother's ghost. All the others are representations of the characters' unconscious lives and are resolved by their confrontation with the chapter EVENTS. Thus, only the reader is aware of these "hallucinations" -- the characters are very much a part of the external, physical life of the chapter. For example, the appearance of Rudy at the conclusion happens only in Bloom's head and is brought about by his shepharding collapsed Stephen. Thus, his cry of "Rudy!" is "inaudible" -- if not, this would be a true hallucination. But, as Joyce presents it, this concluding image presents the equivalent of a Dickens or Austen narration comparable to "Bloom now pictured his son fulfilled, not plagued by feelings of loneliness or disappointment, but rather, happy in his own way, preoccupied with no troubles, indifferent to the sufferings of his earthly father. He was relieved." The difference is that Joyce's presentation takes place in the inner eye of Bloom. Moreover, this fulfillment comes only when Bloom encounters Stephen and associates him with a lost son. Thus, Bloom is freed from the guilt over Rudy's death. The technique, taxing for Joyce -- more so for the reader, is really an extension of the narration in A Portrait. Just as Stephen's development in the earlier novel affected the diction of the author, so, in Circe, Joyce presents almost pure psyche -- the author's running commentary is wholly subordinated to the pure, unconscious experience of the characters coming to terms with their traumas. Hope this helps.... keep at it, and I look forward to seeing some other responses to your question. Nathan. Recently a poor woman asked a question on another list. She may very well have wanted a yes or no answer but what I gave her was 6K long. I can't manage brevity so I will go for honesty in regard to Chandra's question. Which was --- Are all the folks in Circe nuts or what? The quick answer is "yes." Bloom is reduced to a level which almost escapes the net of personality and Stephen suffers the ultimate hallucination with the appearance of his mother. (The latter explicable on the basis of Paul Schwaber's Freudian interpretation in his The Cast of Characters, a book that I recommend very strongly.) But there is something more important going on and it requires detailed (even unto 6K) explanation. Why does the narrative style begin to disintegrate with the puzzles, traps and problems of Wandering Rocks? And this is child's play compared with the Sirens. Next we have the stylistic play of Nausicaa, then the lists of Cyclops and the history of English prose styles in the Oxen of the Sun. Each successive chapter is in a way a problem and a greater problem than the one before. What is involved here is the progressively complex problems that constitute the passage from day to night. Each chapter marks the descent into the death of day and each chapter is more liberated from the mundane limits of the ordinary and the expected. By the time we get to Nighttown Hell is opened to Christians and nothing any longer constitutes a limit or anything less than that full honesty that, because it is so full, means very little and yet everything. To put it in slightly different terms, Joyce's books are eminently self- regarding. Dickens and company wrote books intended to sweep you away. Not Joyce. Joyce wanted collaborators, not readers. He let you know that his books were books and that you would have to sweat mightily before you got out of them what they had to offer. (This was why Stephen Hero was a failure and had to be rewritten as A Portrait: it was not self-regarding, just one more bildungsroman.) Note how Ulysses passes into the control of night as the day wears on and the secret thoughts and urges come to the fore. It is only with the expansive monologue of Molly --- as the day draws near --- that we are again on a track of the positive assertion that we identify with the day. In this sense Ulysses is as cyclical as Finnegans Wake. (If you have gotten this far with Ulysses, you are not very far from Finnegans Wake. Watch out you people; this leads to the hard stuff.) I would like to claim that all these thoughts are original with me but --- alas --- I must refer you to the essays in A Starchamber Quiry, especially that of J.L. Epstein. Bob Williams Don't worry. This is only an opinion, not an answer, however many K it may be. How many original things are being said about Ulysses at this point, anyway? Brian Nathan and Bob Just want to thank you for your comments on Circe. I am chewing on these, reading Circe, trying to find my own way in this maze called Ulysses. Bob, you give me hope by mentioning Finnegan's Wake. That day will come surely. Got yesterday the video of The Dead from the library. Have not seen it yet though. Am reading the story again. Has anybody else seen the film or the musical? Liked it?? Till soon Chandra Good morning all! The sirens near the island where circe lives have kept be bound to circe. I must have started the chapter umpteen number of times. Everytime I read about 20 pages, and say, 'no, I have to start fresh', and every time I feel that I understand it a bit more, a wee bit more. Nathan wrote: > Like an alchemist's crucible, the chapter gathers together all the characters and symbolic strands in the work and transmutes them -- combines them in such a way and in such a relationship to Bloom and Stephen, that they take a new shape and meaning. I see your point, but why is Stephen so important to Bloom? If Stephen is Jimmy Joyce who was Bloom in Joyce's life? One of the answers is in the I have here in front of me the 2000 Bloomsday magazine which has an article: 'The years of Bloom'. There I read that Ettore Schmitz, a Triestine who shared Joyce's passion for writing and literature is the model for Bloom. (Schmitz was 46 in 1907). But that does not satisfy because I ask myself what do Stephen and Bloom stand for? Do they stand for anything at all? If Bloom is the wandering jew, what is Stephen, a youth tortured by his own intellect?... I simply loved what Bob wrote: > What is involved here is the progressively complex problems that constitute the passage from day to night. Each chapter marks the descent into the death of day and each chapter is more liberated from the mundane limits of the ordinary and the expected. It is so easy to see that this is so after reading Bob's explanation. The very first sentence has three markers: nighttwon, skeleton, will-o'-the-wisps. And the people: they are stunted men and women, there is a gnome, a pigmy woman, children are bandy and scrofulous. there is fog, snakes of river fog. Nothing is normal. Nobody is normal. It is a world that is not limited, has no boundaries. Bloom's hidden desires - and fears - are coming out with the appearance of Mrs. Breen and previously his father and mother. Stephen is still Stephen. Holding forth about the language of gestures. So we have two characters here. One who is assailed by many kinds of doubts, fears and unexpressed desires, who is trying to come to terms with his inner feelings. And the other living on another plane, even in this unreal nighttown.I do not know. Am I seeing light in the dark chapter? Finally? I do not know, but one thing I can say that the more one reads Ulyssed, the more one is captivated by it. One question remains though: What are Cissy Caffrey and Edy Broadman doing here? They were such 'normal' people in Nausicaa. What do they have to do with Bloom's life? Chandra Events in Circe are of several kinds. Some are validated by mention in later chapters, some have an air of possibility and some are obviously impossible. Nothing in subsequent chapters validates the appearance in Circe of any of the characters in Nausicaa (except, obviously, Bloom). On this basis the appearance of the twins, Gerty and so forth is not necessarily true. Cissy vears very closely to being a real appearance through her connection with Carr and Compton in the early and last scenes. It won't do to look for greater certainty. Joyce left this deliberately blurred. Bob Williams  Top! HOME!