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[dr_alcott]

Or, take a piece of this novel and deconstruct it for me.  Show me the beauty (or whatever) that I ought to be appreciating in some large sections--not a paragraph that relies on some tidbit of knowledge to fully appreciate, but a stylistic technique that works if one has been trained to be able to do whatever it is one's mind must do to appreciate it, but fails for those of us who lack that training.

Polly, I've been thinking about this challenge you've issued. Can you point to a specific passage--preferrably in the first 11 or 12 episodes--whose beauty (or whatever) isn't readily apparent?

Do the first part of the sirens for me (From "Bronze by gold heard" through "-Is that her?").  What is the point of that?  I can read it out loud and hear sound patterns.  I see the point of sound patterns in something like Poe's The Bells, but that's not happening here.  I can see individual phrases as possibly having some coherent thought, but the whole passage is garbage.  I'm not even seeing a stream of consciousness (certainly nothing like other parts where I see thoughts, tangents, interruptions, and more thoughts).  I see gibberish with a repetition of a few words that probably are key, but even when we get to the dialog, all I get is oh, two women side-by-side, one bronze-haired and one golden-hair, but that doesn't clear up anything else.


All I'm seeing in this passage is the nonsense and fragments like the random bits of refrigerator poetry and then we get to plot.

Music runs throughout Sirens, and the first passage is the overture. All the little tidbits in the first 60-some lines are repeated or otherwise touched upon in the rest of the episode. (That's why I said upthread that reading the episode felt like doing a treasure hunt--encountering all the themes and motifs introduced in the opening section.) By itself, I agree that it seems like nonsense, but read in the context of the rest of the episode, I think it's quite something.

I don't want to be a whiny student, but this is an unsatisfactory explanation. 

I love music and spent my formative years in all the music programs I could get (science came much later when the idea of jobs raised its head).   Thus, while I understand the mechanics and beauty of reading music, this particular chapter does not work for me, even when analyzed as a musical piece.  While repeated themes would work, just a bunch of notes that are repeated later in the piece somewhere does not make an effective overture.  One cannot move an overture to the middle or end of a musical piece; yet these random junk notes could be placed anywhere in the chapter and have nearly the same effect.  This "overture" does not match the rest of the piece, which is why I asked about that passage instead of Sirens in general.  The rest of Sirens sort of works, but isn't my preferred chapter.

This passage also does not work for me as a treasure hunt because there's no set-up.  While I supposed one could claim that the first two pages are the list for a scavenger hunt, the set-up isn't there in terms of "Two hours, eight teams, three acres to cover.  Ready, steady, go!"  There's no joy because the instructions are garbage, if indeed any instructions exist.  This is one part where I'm very much convinced of a Foucault's Pendulum effect with the reliance of human beings as pattern seeking creatures, rather than having a proper intended meaning in the text itself.

I have not yet gotten to Sirens, yet based on this discussion and what I have read thus far, I am intrigued by the underlying musical structure.  (I'm a musicologist) Once I have read the chapter - hopefully this weekend! - I'll be better able to address this, but it sounds like what Joyce is doing is using overture as well as ritornello. 

Thematic aspects of an overture can and are used throughout a piece of music, opera, etc.; often showing up in fragmentary or altered form.  (Mozart, for example, foreshadows the entrance of the Commendatore in the final act of Don Giovanni in the overture.) Sometimes elements of the overture can be found sprinkled throughout a piece or at the end.  A ritornello is a repeating fragment or music or theme that returns, interspersed with contrasting episodes of music (hence the name "ritornello), and was used mostly in (early) baroque music. (Monteverdi, for example)  A later development of this form is rondo or, simply, a round. If this is what Joyce is doing, he is indeed using compositional techniques through text.

From what I have read already, Joyce knew a great deal about music, popular and art genres, as well as opera.  I've enjoyed the little asides into opera and musical quotations. 

Lenniel, thanks for this info. I think a ritornello is exactly what's happening in Sirens. I can't wait to hear more of your thoughts after you finish it! I wish I could remember more from my music courses; I'm sure Joyce is employing a lot of techniques that I just can't recognize.

Probably the most comical touch (and easy for the non-musicologist to recognize!) is the way Joyce uses percussive sounds--the tapping of the blind man's cane and Bloom's farting at the end--to punctuate the overture as well as the episode.

[nordicexpat]

One thing that has already struck me about Sirens is how sad it is. I think of commentators really miss the mark when they describe the novel as a typical day: it isn't. The whole point if Bloom peregrinations is that he is killing time because he knows Molly is to meet Boyle at a certain time and that he needs/wants to be out to avoid  a confrontation. That time is in Sirens, and the line "all is lost" can obviously be read as a reference to the fact that Bloom knows Molly will be unfaithful to him. So now Bloom delays going home to avoid facing the consequences that affair may have on their relationship.

Polly-mer,
I think it is really difficult pointing out the beauty. The best comparison I can make with my mathematicians friends who describe the beauty in certain mathematical proofs. That's how I think about Ulysses: seeing how a thousand little details suddenly cohere, and for me the attraction is that every time I read it I see more of what first appesred random as suddenly cohering. But that experience is really hard to desribe, let alone get someone else to share.

[zharkov]

Joyce had a musical background and competed in a music festival as a tenor.  (In 1904, no less.)

http://web.archive.org/web/20070401041950/http://www.feisceoil.ie/history/

PS: Not having a musical background myself, I am sure there are things I miss.


Happy Bloomsday to all!

[polly_mer]

Polly-mer,
I think it is really difficult pointing out the beauty. The best comparison I can make with my mathematicians friends who describe the beauty in certain mathematical proofs. That's how I think about Ulysses: seeing how a thousand little details suddenly cohere, and for me the attraction is that every time I read it I see more of what first appesred random as suddenly cohering. But that experience is really hard to desribe, let alone get someone else to share.

I did think about the music idea in Sirens as I was doing things yesterday.  I'm still not convinced about the overture interpretation, but the first section could be read as the tuning up of the orchestra.  We get a practice measure here.  We get a practice measure there.  We see a check on a transition and glides as the strings are tuned, the reeds are adjusted, and the stops are pulled.

That thousand little details that require me to reread several times without having a big scheme into which I am putting the pieces drives me nuts.  I will never see the beauty in anything like that because that's not how I think.  I like the unfolding of a plot with a few key details falling into place now that I know more.  I love mysteries that work like that and that is the key way that I decide whether a mystery novelist is good or not.  If the pieces don't come together slowly over the whole novel so that I can play detective, too, then I'm not reading a second novel by that person.  I love jigsaw puzzles where I have a big picture, but I have to pay attention to fine detail to really assemble the pieces.  I love mathematical proofs where the beauty is in the whole, but the process hinges on a handful of key details that flow naturally from place to place.

Making me play Magic Eye via text is going to be a fail, just like Magic Eye visually is a fail for me.  The visual Magic Eye is a fail for me because I physically lack the required depth perception.  The textual Magic Eye is a fail because I'm not going to reread it enough times.  Without the big picture and motivation to examine the details, the details themselves are just garbage.  One must have some substance to be able to show off style and be impressive.

[dr_alcott]

I'm still not convinced about the overture interpretation, but the first section could be read as the tuning up of the orchestra.  We get a practice measure here.  We get a practice measure there.  We see a check on a transition and glides as the strings are tuned, the reeds are adjusted, and the stops are pulled.

Blamires says something similar. I like it. And I think the fact that you offer this interpretation shows that what you say below--about details being "garbage," for instance, and about your inability to think in certain ways--is not 100% accurate.

That thousand little details that require me to reread several times without having a big scheme into which I am putting the pieces drives me nuts. I will never see the beauty in anything like that because that's not how I think. 

Someone astutely pointed out upthread that Joyce is challenging the way we think. When I discuss difficult Modern and postmodern texts with my students, I remind them that when it comes to art, they need to be open to thinking and perceiving in new ways. Obviously you are, Polly, or you would have put down the novel after the first episode or two.

Making me play Magic Eye via text is going to be a fail, just like Magic Eye visually is a fail for me.  The visual Magic Eye is a fail for me because I physically lack the required depth perception.  The textual Magic Eye is a fail because I'm not going to reread it enough times.  Without the big picture and motivation to examine the details, the details themselves are just garbage.  One must have some substance to be able to show off style and be impressive.

No one's making you play a game.

I'm going to back off from this particular discussion now. NordicExpat says it best:

Polly-mer,
I think it is really difficult pointing out the beauty. The best comparison I can make with my mathematicians friends who describe the beauty in certain mathematical proofs. That's how I think about Ulysses: seeing how a thousand little details suddenly cohere, and for me the attraction is that every time I read it I see more of what first appesred random as suddenly cohering. But that experience is really hard to desribe, let alone get someone else to share.

[polly_mer]

That thousand little details that require me to reread several times without having a big scheme into which I am putting the pieces drives me nuts. I will never see the beauty in anything like that because that's not how I think. 

Someone astutely pointed out upthread that Joyce is challenging the way we think. When I discuss difficult Modern and postmodern texts with my students, I remind them that when it comes to art, they need to be open to thinking and perceiving in new ways. Obviously you are, Polly, or you would have put down the novel after the first episode or two.

Let me state upfront that I think much of the postmodern movement in various fields is straight-up garbage.  I'm willing to rise to a challenge to think differently, but I'm a tough sell for things that strike me as akin to asking the riddle to which one must know the answer in order to answer or that are playing the "I'm smarter than you, let's see if you cop to ignorance or expose the emperor as having no clothes" game.

What I would like, from my oh-so-patient-with-the-rude-girl-in-the-first-row teachers here, is an explanation of the big-picture thinking about why Ulysses is great literature and why what Joyce did with his experiments is wonderful and more wonderful than if he had just written the whole day-in-the-life-of-one-guy-in-Dublin-with-cross-threads-of-other-people in a style like Calypso, Lotus Eaters, or Nausicaa.

For example, from my almost non-existent art education, I can understand why Guernica is a better art piece than the more visually pleasing landscapes that my great-grandmother paints.  I understand why Diego Rivera's Detroit Industry is artistic, despite not being something that I would want as a poster in my living room.

I don't have to see the beauty of each piece for myself, but I am seeking more than bland assurances that Joyce challenged the way that people think and was successful.  Telling me something is beautiful is not nearly as useful as showing me the importance of the work through later authors who were inspired by something or having something translate into the culture at large from this work in particular.  Otherwise, you are doing the equivalent of telling me that Jackson Pollock is important, despite clear evidence that he was just fooling around as critic Robert Coates said (according to Wikipedia).

[nordicexpat]

What I would like, from my oh-so-patient-with-the-rude-girl-in-the-first-row teachers here, is an explanation of the big-picture thinking about why Ulysses is great literature and why what Joyce did with his experiments is wonderful and more wonderful than if he had just written the whole day-in-the-life-of-one-guy-in-Dublin-with-cross-threads-of-other-people in a style like Calypso, Lotus Eaters, or Nausicaa.

I don't have to see the beauty of each piece for myself, but I am seeking more than bland assurances that Joyce challenged the way that people think and was successful.  Telling me something is beautiful is not nearly as useful as showing me the importance of the work through later authors who were inspired by something or having something translate into the culture at large from this work in particular.  Otherwise, you are doing the equivalent of telling me that Jackson Pollock is important, despite clear evidence that he was just fooling around as critic RobertCoates said (according to Wikipedia).

I think there are several different points here. The first would be that if Joyce were just fooling around, it would hardly be likely for everything to cohere as much as it does. The work really is well-strucured, although you really have to read slowly to see how strucured it is. The question about influence is a bit different. And from your comments, I think you are asking a rather subtle question: that is, you see the influence of, say, the first half of the book, but not necessarily the parodies. (Although, again, i'm not sure, since you refer to Nausicaa, the first half of which is definitely in parody mode (and, again, I think of it as evoking pathos without sentimentality (a lame girl who imagines herself as the heroine of a romance novel, and the facade she builds up crumbles as various points:

Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in thought, gazing far away into the distance, was in very truth as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's female pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to get and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemon juice and queen of ointments could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either.

(the "either" in the last sentence is perfect).

But, again, influence is different than aesthetics. (Besides, in a thousand years how much from the 20th century will still be read?) Professionals don't see the point in Joyce's later work, so I think it is obviously a subject of debate. I understand why you don't want bland assurances, but I don't think an online forum will really be able to give you the answer to the real question you are looking for. And, as I said before, it does remind me of some of my mathematician friends. For them, math is pure, and I doubt most people can see the beauty in it in the same way they do (that is, you may understand it, but not see it in purely aesthetic terms).

[dr_alcott]

Checking in to report that I'm on the seventh sentence of Penelope, and I have about ten pages to go. I will finish today, and I'm pretty darned excited about it.

[marigolds]

I gave up, pretty much.  It wasn't helping my "Take Back Reading For Pleasure" initiative at all, and Game of Thrones's siren call was far louder.  (See that little Ulysses pun I made there?  Sirens?  Hee.) 

[notaprof]

I gave up, pretty much.  It wasn't helping my "Take Back Reading For Pleasure" initiative at all, and Game of Thrones's siren call was far louder.  (See that little Ulysses pun I made there?  Sirens?  Hee.) 

You did better than me.  I never even opened the book. I thought about it though, if that counts for any thing.  Kudos to those who have made it through. 

[lenniel]

I've been traveling a lot so have only just made it to Nausicaa.  Having gotten this far, I am determined to finish, though it will take more time as I have to travel even more next week.

Still enjoying it, though!

[dr_alcott]

I've been traveling a lot so have only just made it to Nausicaa.  Having gotten this far, I am determined to finish, though it will take more time as I have to travel even more next week.

Still enjoying it, though!

For me, the pace picked up a great deal in and after Nausicaa. There were a couple episodes in the first half of the novel that I had to drag myself through, but once I got through Aeolus, I was a pretty happy reader.

And I did finish yesterday. (Yes!)

[lenniel]

Reviving this thread to say I have finally finished Ulysses. Yay! I confess that I feel a rather childish sense of accomplishment...:)  As much as I enjoyed the whole thing, I think Penelope was one of the most moving things I have ever read - earthy, tragic, and simply beautiful.

Having confirmation that Joyce was himself a musician and well-versed in both popular and classical genres was very helpful in my reading as well.  The musicality of the text, along with the musical structure, really pulled me in and made it difficult to put down in places.

Thanks, again, to all for sharing their insights and expertise!

[dr_alcott]

Congratulations, Lenniel. I completely understand the sense of accomplishment you feel: I felt it too! And I also share your reaction to Penelope.

For me, the most surprising consequence of reading Ulysses was the way it made me think about my own marriage in the days, even weeks, after I finished it (the book, not the marriage).