In this installment of Blooms & Barnacles, Kelly and Dermot engage in some good, old-fashioned navel gazing. Discussion topics include working class life in Edwardian Dublin, the poetry of Algernon Swinburne, the perils of childbirth during the same period, gothic horror, whether Adam and Eve had bellybuttons, and why Kelly thinks people in antiquity had predominantly outie bellybuttons. They also get to the bottom of what exactly the heck an omphalos is and why everyone keeps talking about them.
Blooms and Barnacles’ series on Mr. Deasy and “Nestor” comes to a close with a discussion of the old headmaster’s biased views of women’s negative impact on history. The relative culpability of four woman accused of causing history’s great evils is explored, along with what exactly Stephen means when he refers to God as a “shout in the street.”
Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, La Patrie, M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died?
Maud Gonne’s name appears in Ulysses’ third episode, Proteus, as Stephen rummages through his recollections of his brief sojourn in Paris. Though Gonne did reside in Paris in the early 1900’s, she never met James Joyce (or Stephen Dedalus), but their non-meeting had long lasting effects on James Joyce, though he may have never realized it.
The life of Maud Gonne is often told in close proximity to the men she knew, and since my blog is about James Joyce, her story will be framed by its brief overlap with Joyce’s. However, before we dive into that, I’d like to give space to her biography, warts and all.
Joyce and Maud Gonne never met, though Yeats provided her contact information to Joyce before he left for Paris in 1902. She was living in the city at the time and could be a helpful contact there. Joyce called on her, but was turned away by the concierge. Gonne was nursing her niece who was sick with diphtheria and was under a quarantine as a result. She wrote him a gracious apology letter and offered to meet him post-quarantine. Joyce, ever prickly, took this as a slight and never followed up, though it may have been due to embarrassment about his shabby appearance due to the extreme poverty he experienced during those months. It seems like an episode barely worth mentioning, but as we’ll see, it may have had some long-term consequences.
So, who exactly was Maud Gonne and why are we talking about her?
A super-sized Blooms and Barnacles! Dick is a friend of Kelly’s and Dermot’s who is a lover of Ulysses and the music found throughout the novel. Dick talks about some of his favorite songs that play a role in Ulysses and the history behind them. We also chat about the use of music in “The Dead,” the final story in The Dubliners. And because we’ve never met a tangent we didn’t like, we also talk (briefly) about Dick’s time in Turkey, Stephen’s lost faith, Dick’s love of the opera, and grieving over tragedies that happened many generations ago.
On a Very Special Episode of the Blooms & Barnacles podcast – it’s Dermot’s first time leading an episode. He chose to interview his co-host and founder of the podcast, Kelly. He talks to her about why she’s the one to teach the world about Ulysses, her insane dream to stage “Circe,” how to make a soffee, and how she got invited to a party by the Lord Mayor of Dublin. A different vibe than our normal show, but don’t worry, it’s the good kind of weird. Continue reading “Ep. 11 – Kelly Bryan”
Hell is breakfast with Buck Mulligan.
Kelly and Dermot talk about the allegory of the old milk woman who visits Stephen and the boys in the Martello Tower. Topics covered include Hiberno-English, the importance of tea in Irish culture and who the hell Mother Grogan was.
Part of an occasional series on the women of Ulysses.
For all posts on Mr. Deasy, click here.
To listen to a discussion of this topic, check out the podcast episode here.
In “Nestor,” the second episode of Ulysses, Stephen Dedalus finds himself in a discussion with his employer, Mr. Deasy. They have reached a conversational impasse after Stephen shrugs off the manifestation of God as a mere “shout in the street.” A pregnant pause follows, and Mr. Deasy responds by condemning four traitorous women. Mr. Deasy is the first, but certainly not the last, person to point to the evils of womankind in Ulysses. As we shall see, some of these women are less culpable than the Mr. Deasies of the world would have us believe.
—I am happier than you are, he said. We have committed many errors and many sins. A woman brought sin into the world.
The woman who brought sin into the world is of course Eve, the Biblical first woman, who gave into temptation in the Garden of Eden and unleashed sin onto the world. But what of Eve? Don Gifford points out in Ulysses Annotated that the language in the book of Genesis describing Adam and Eve eating from the Tree of Knowledge is less accusatory than it is often remembered: “So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.” Romans 5:12 tells us it was man who brought sin into the world: “Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man…” On the other hand, there’s 1 Timothy 2:14: “and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” I guess what I’m saying is, it’s not that hard to cherry pick Bible quotes to meet your agenda. There’s a different interpretation for everyone in the audience.
To hear a discussion of this topic, check out the podcast episode here.
Part of an occasional series on the women of Ulysses.
Mother Grogan pops up a couple times throughout Ulysses. She is a reference to an anonymous folk song called Ned Grogan. I couldn’t find a recording of it, so I suppose it’s fallen out of popularity, but if you’re curious about the lyrics, you can find them here.
—When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.
In Harry Blamires’ Bloomsday Book, he says that this line establishes a connection between making tea and urinating, which is a symbol of fertility and creativity.