[In this paragraph by paragraph summary I'm combining analyses from two
years: for most paragraphs, first is a tight summary of the whole thing:
where I put "To expand" means that at that point I start to talk again
about the paragraph from the beginning.] You can use the links right below
to go to specific units of the narrative.

Narrative units (links to beginning of each):

3.01-4.14; 4.15-5.12; 5.13-8.08 (intro to Museyroom); 8.08-10.24 (the
Museyroom); [general sum 12.18-18.16;] 10.25-15.28: hen cleans up, we look
at contemporary Dublin, generalize about the 4 things and history, and see
where we are; 15.29-18.16 (Mutt and Jute); 18.17-21.04: the claybook;
21.05-23.15, the Prankquean; 23.16-end, summary: 24.16-26.24 (the 4 keep
HCE dead); 26.25-end (final report on everybody)

The overall structure of the chapter: process firms up and we're back at
HCE. The fall is specified ("retaled") and that "rise you must", and we
hear the general case, of Bygmester Finnegan, with his tower, and the
causes of his fall, and his wake (to 6.12). So then we look at him as
fallen god and mountain with river by it, and take a first closer look at
the story to be read in that mountain's mass (the Museyroom), at the way
the hen picks up the pieces and how it's a cycle (to 12.18).

So we then, after this image for the first-generation struggle (which had
succeeded the god level), we turn to "our review of the two mounds", that
is, history itself--we see everybody hopping on the giant's middle, and the
historians' summary of the dynamics we will find (including the
contextualization in nature by Quinet), (to 15.28).

And then we turn to the 3 embodiments of the dynamics in history: first via
Mutt and Jute, the prehistoric and Irish vs. Dane level with Brian Boru and
Sitric fighting it out (to 18¶2), then (after an interlude specifying that
language itself arises from the same dynamic of struggle as does the rest
of history, to 20¶1) the early-historic and Irish vs. English level with
the Prankquean and the Jarl fighting it out and working out the usual
arrangement of coexistence which amounts to death or at least a fall into
separation (to 23¶1), and finally, after reminding us of how the hill/rill
situation, for all its faults, is the cause of process going on (in 23¶1),
we get the current situation as the current historians (maybe the bedposts)
read it as if to the sleeping giant himself, giving all the reasons why he
should not rise again (because things are fine as they are and he's been
superseded and should be comfortable as 'history', so to speak) which
however amount to an irresistible lesson that he should rise again--for how
could he not exactly want to get back in it with the girl so enticing and
the boys being him all over again and his own memories such an enticement
to live it all again and his wife still young and ready? Either ALP or the
narrator firmly says "Finn no more" at the end, because there's no room for
him, there's another him "on the premises", a "rody ram lad" (cf. 112.22),
but as the paragraph goes on this "sibsubstitute" who seems to be a next
generation (befitting the suggestion that it is simply a new erection)
comes clearer and clearer actually to be HCE himself, with the same family
of bugs. So the climax is that "however 'twas 'tis" now (as always) he
himself "and no other he" is "ultimendly respunchable" for all the hubbub.
In effect, then, after the bulk of the chapter showing how process winds up
in stasis, dynamic leads to separation, the kicker is that of course that
stasis contains the energy to make process and dynamic inevitable again,
i.e., rise is as inevitable as fall. They can say "Finn no more" all they
want to, but it is and always will be Finn every time.

Most general structure of the major episodes: Museyroom shows the fall,
Mutt and Jute reflect on it, Prankquean gives its modern version or
consequences, i.e. the way those same relations play themselves out in the
interaction between men and women. There's progression, but each instance
is also a repetition (syntagms and paradigms: structuralist this book is as
Norris says), woman enticing and causing the man to be a jerk and fail her
and shit (i.e. put out objects instead of entering into union) and/or
masturbate (stay self-contained, like St. Kevin or Patrick at his most
piously creepy.)

3.01-.03 (and .04-.14): We come back to land from the water the book has
turned into at its end, and as it's at the start of a cycle we see that
this list of things hasn't happened yet (note its structure), namely all
that will happen.

3.04-.14: "not yet": What hadn't happened yet, when we start over at the
start of the cycle after the ricorso? i.e., what are the important things
that will happen?: here's where we stand the instant before the fall and
the thunder. The next thunder is at the end of the Prankquean: perhaps this
overview is of the whole course of history before it starts again and we
are brought into the age of gods which will be the substance of Bk I and
will FOLLOW the Prankquean. It would be typical novelistic practice to
begin with a review, to catch us up, so to speak, before the plot begins,
which it will essentially do with I.2.

There are 7 clauses, for the 7 rainbow colors. (Note colons separate first
5, last two are "and"-connected.

1) Tristan hadn't come to Ireland to do his dirty work with Isolde ($/( and
$I)--i.e. to get her for Mark and for himself--emphasis on second visit,
and on isolation.

2) the rocks by the stream ( $/\?) in America hadn't doubled into gypsies
(i.e. $/\ hadn't left, as he does in III.2?)

3) Patrick ( $/\, $/( ) hadn't gotten inflamed with his sense of God's
calling and the public response (as happens in Bk IV, the defeat of the
inward mystic druid by Patrick, McHugh Sig 109 seeming to say this is the
defeat of $/( by M.) Think about who's who, Patrick and Druid. Par. The
voice both bellows and bellowses--that is, like the father says "me me",
(the self-centredness of M), and stirs up self-centredness in the
listeners, as Patrick did. Par. Peter is "the rock", Joyce says Arthur and
Patrick both mean "stone", in general it seems this clause emphasises $/\,
with Patrick in his self-centered cold-hearted Gripes sense.

4) Jacob ( $( ) hadn't cheated Esau ( $/\ ), nor Parnell ( $/( ) ousted
Butt (M).

5) the sisters Esther ( $I.3) hadn't been mad at the twisted Swift
(M)--this is the cold father sick daughter theme? where else?

6) the boys hadn't brewed what would make Noah drunk (the attack of $/( on
M) and

7) there was no rainbow on the water--see 304.09, where $( sees the rainbow
rings because $/\ strikes him, and it dispells his hesitency, and brings
the brothers together, i.e., joins them probably as $/(. That's the key
moment, and that's what's given here as the climax of the prediction of
these 7 clauses. (the climax is redness and dewyness (roridus, dewy)--'the
dew on the ground' is climactic in II.3.

The opening themes named and predicted, then, are 1) T&I ( $/( and $I) [the
war of the younger man taking the woman from the older man]; 2) the rock by
the stream turning into Dublin and non-gypsies in America [hints of the
Shaun progress and exile here, but maybe it means the building of cities,
and maybe by contrast with #3 it means getting disreputable, ie., the Shem
$( side]; 3) the self-centredness of God and of the Christian worshipper,
i.e., Patrick ( $/( ) bringing individuation as transmission of God's "I
am" [as happens with the Druid and with St. Kevin's centeredness]; 4) the
two types of struggle, boys against each other especially by cheating the
blind father but also just replacing him; 5) the tangle of schizophrenic
girls taunting the older man (e.g., the jinnies) and that man both being
cold and loving to them (e.g., Swift, Carroll, also Jaun lecturing Issy and
then declaring for her); 6) the primal scene question, the boys seeing
naked father, maybe inciting him somehow, as in the drunkenness, and
consequently 7) the moment when the rainbow rings lead to the joining
together of the boys (the rebellious and pious sides, #2 and #3) against
the father.

The opening even further boiled down and made into a plot, 1) the young man
is in a struggle for the young woman, especially to take away from the
father (Tristan for himself getting Isolde); 2) one thing that derives from
that is exile, leaving because the tensions are two great (the Shem side
getting disreputable); 3) another is taking on the name of the father (the
Shaun side getting self-righteous and on God's side); 4) while these two
things are happening it is as if the two sides are against each other and
playing games with the father's favor; 5) meanwhile, from the woman's point
of view [returns to #1, reverses point of view to Isolde relating to men]
the young woman is necessarily virtually schizophrenic as involved in the
wacky taunting of the warm/cold father/lover [the Prankquean relation]. 6)
This is the end of the set-up, as signalled by a period. In the last two
stages, their own sentence, first 6) the boys conspire against the father
and 7) there's a moment when they turn and replace him.

That is then the moment of his fall, which is in effect the new energy come
into the system for a new beginning, which is where we take up the book
with the first hundred-letter word, for thunder itself.

3.15-.24-- So we enter history with the fall, and in it the head spreads
out to the toes, which are orange and green, which have been going at it
since time immemorial (since Devil or Dublin first loved Liffy or
Livia--which brings her in). We are told the fall is Humpty Dumpty's,
Christ's (it's what told in the ministry), the salmon's (conceived as a
cycle), Finnegan's, and seems to have happened at "such short notice" [why?
how so?] that, if we began at Howth 3.03 with the head, we are led west to
the feet where Orange has been imposed on Green since Dublin and the Liffey
have been linked. That is, we're going to look at an instance of the
invader against the native in the basic context of the love of the city for
Ireland and her nature, as this instance centers on the Park, and
especially in Chapelizod at the Mullingar House. The picture by the end of
p3 is of the aloof head at Howth (like a father) to which we come or with
which we're left at the end of things and the beginning of time, and the
'lowered', divided, struggle between two sides which is entailed by the
fall in all its forms and which we'll see in Ireland as a whole, and
specifically in Chapelizod. Note that the first word of the page is the
river, and so is the last: the sleeping father and the struggling Orange
and Green sons are both in the context of the flowing river, and always
have been (since Dublin first loved the Liffey).

4 Par 1-17. So focusing there on the world of the toes, so to speak, the
world of clashes and confrontations, we see Paris traffic, dopey religious
struggles, lots of weapons, maybe somebody attacking Howth and certainly
medieval cries including to St. Lawrence to "save". Suggestions of sexual
perversion ("Sod's brood, be me fear") and just "chance cuddleys" (esp.
since "kille-kille" , tickle-tickle in Danish, is teasing in sex act), and
castles in the air built and overthrown. Protestants vs Catholics (LOT and
TAB buried in the words); hairy Esau and the voice of Jacob. We exclaim at
all of them, but there's a contrast between the "father of fornicationists"
sprawling/prowling in the dust/dusk and the flags rising to the heavens,
and there is Isolt (the woman coming in, as above, but the second
generation this time), and the sprawl is countered with the rise of "soft
advertisement", a skysign, of hope as of commerce. So in the middle of
things, like Tristan, we say "Was iz? Iseut?", the "was is" implying the
resurrection now mentioned, the oaks lay in the bog but elms (and maybe the
salmon) leap where the ashes were. Will (and the phallus) lead to the fall,
but there'll be a rise, and the farce will end after a while in a
Phoenix-rise/finish. So a moral: even if you fall from will, you rise from
necessity, and a long time happens between cycles, i.e., before the phoenix
rises the next time.

In short, a look at the world yields racket, struggle, a sense of the
mighty (but sinning) fallen though there has been aspiration, and
(essentially thinking about the Tristan story) the sense that there is a
sequence of fall and rise that undercuts the initial sense of chaos. [maybe
the point is that we get $/( first and then $E in the next paragraph?]

[thus a unit over, an introduction]

4.15-5.04. (So now we focus in on it in terms of an almost human story,
after having seen it as Humpty Dumpty and the giant, and we define the
human aspect of our hero): the master builder built and built--he had a
little wife, and it seems partly from sex with her and partly from liquor
he is able to calculate and make his tower rise, his organ and his
buildings, and thus make all of history happen, its rises and falls, LOT
and TAB (Laurence O'Toole and Thomas á Beckett). Thus we are told we focus
on man as builder: sex and architecture, rise and fall, the same.

This is $E, an inhabitant of this divided land just described, the builder
Finnegan, old Irish hero (so hot he boils away the water in his tub) before
the Pentateuch; he's hod, cement and edifices. He's a drinker, stutterer,
builder of the city, relates to his wife with fear and sex and as to Alice,
a caliph and Frankish king and Arthur with his Round Table and a bishop
with mitre, maybe he's Patrick, or Patrick's father in Caligula's
lighthouse, so like Caligula (cf. 3.02, Commodus). Anyway, he drinks till
he envisions his tower ("of other days"--past or to come?; it's "roundhead"
so maybe nascently Protestant?), part tavern ($E is a tavernkeeper) part
work of philosophy like Duns Scotus', and connected with the new order--LOT
the thief is climbing up while TAB clatters down. The masterbuilder
dreaming of his creation--we've had $/( in the last par. and now we have $E
before his fall.

5.05-.12: He's mocked/praised as first nobleman, from the North, cuckold
and pursuer of the maidens (the two girls), there are archers on his
shield, and he's a drinker (with hooch) and a husbandman (like Adam), and
the narrator laughs at the comedy of it all: first wine, then vinegar, Finn
will be Finnegan or Finn-Again, and always rise only to fall.

That is, he's mockingly described heraldically--but he's just the old Adam,
a Wassail Boozer, and his crest is of whoring, in the green park with the
two girls, (and maybe his escutcheon has the soldiers as archers). It may
be he's just an old farmer ("husbandman"), but maybe "handling his hoe"
means the husband out whoring [the girls are consistently said to be
whores]. At any rate, he's laughed at for the way he'll rise and fall:
comeday is vine, sendday is vinegar, fun will be fined, and in general Finn
will be Finnagain. This is the comic side of it ("comeday"), which will be
looked at in the tragic side ("tragoady") in the next paragraph. In short,
this and the preceding paragraph as they introduce $E show the dreamer and
boozer and builder, comic but ok. Now that we've got the general setting
and this central character, we can go back to the "plot", the fall, and ask
what was its "agent", i.e., how does "this municipal sin business" come
into it? That's what we turn to now.

5.13-6.12. (begins the unit which runs through Museyroom). So we spell out
the reason for this fall and rise: first, what brought about this
"municipal sin business". [added in second galleys: It seems he's guilty of
farting, but still, on the other hand, it's obvious that he's been falsely
accused too by so-called holy men]. It may have been throwing the brick, or
exposing himself to the soldiers, but basically he went so enthusiastically
at Eve's apples (i.e. indulges so much, is so oriented to sex and liquor)
that one morning, drunk, he simply fell--and in a long parenthesis it's
also the modern world that brings this failure on, just too much racket
(added in a fairly early draft, with the comma in the wrong place like
that, which he preserved all through). It seems pretty clearly connected
with marriage, which makes your lute all long.

To expand, it asks the cause of the fall that "thundersday", its "agent".
The world still gives evidence of God's creative act, his thundering fart,
but "successive ages" bring the sin of prohibition. We saw (4.32ff) liquor
lets you have visions, but we're working up (and the FDV turns right to it)
to the fact that it also causes the fall as it makes Finnegan fall off the
ladder--on the other hand, it also seems that it's puritanical 'muzzling
muslims' (cf. 319.11) who blacken an original innocence: it's right to
drink, wrong to squelch. [And this fits the picture of Shaun as
constraining and lowering, and Patrick too: it's hybris, ecstacy, drink,
that lets you build things and create, but it also makes you overreach, and
so you fall--but to rise again. Thus there's a pervasive ambiguity, in that
we're to be "stayed" in our search for being tight, i.e., kept on its path,
and also kept from it.]

But the surface seems to focus more on drinking than abstaining: it's
better to 'nod to the neighbor', i.e., do what's close to hand, than try to
signal the absent (god), and if we don't we're suspended like Mohammed
between mountain and sea, i.e., $E and $A--[as, however, of course we are].

"It may have been a missfired brick...same" added second draft to intro the
"But so sore" paragraph (as then was, and the "But" overwrites an "And")
which follows "fined again". That is, by the fair copy (JJA107) it reads
after "fined again" that what may have "brought about this municipal sin
business? It may half been a missfired brick, as as some say, or it mought
have been due to a collupsus of his back promises.... But so sore did
abe...". [The conception is plainly that the "missfired brick" (whatever
that is--what Festy pegs? but why fired by "miss"?) or the dropping the
pants (i.e., somehow, girls and soldiers again) are what are said to
explain the fall, i.e., "some say it's what $E did in the park that brought
sin into the world, but in fact it was Abe eating Eve's apples that made
Phil tippling full, drunk, and made him fall." The draft history would seem
to support this, except that at the very beginning it is that 'as sure as
Eve sinned eating the apples, Adam sinned by getting drunk', and it only
later becomes that his drinking is preceded by eating the apples she gave
him.

To return to the essence, and thinking in terms of earlier drafts, the
point is that some say the brick, some say his dropping his pants, but in
fact it was Eve giving him the apple that made $E drunk--and he falls off
the wall: seems maybe he masturbates, and it's because of handling her
apples--maybe so much that they get "sore"? (cf. The T&I vignette). Drink
may give the visions (c4.32), but it also causes a kind of
self-containment, like Kevin's in a sense. Self-consciousness can lead to
self-abuse! It really does seem as if something goes astray sexually, much
as will happen in III.4: the kind of ecstatic union symbolized by
"tighteousness" is lost, to puritanism (the $/\ aspect) or self-centredness
(the $( aspect), to some thrown brick or some perverse "back promises"
failure, and we fall into the isolation we mostly see, with for $E only the
prospect of resurrection and for $A only the fact that some of the pieces
are saved (i.e., the 'dreamydeary' 'seek[ing] on site'). But the long
parenthesis (added on the second draft, 11/26) seems also to say that it's
the course of civilization itself that causes it, all the tombs and traffic
and police and private property aspects. Why not both together? The answer
to what brings sin into the world is that it's partly one's own fault and
partly one's world, partly being too sexual or drunk and partly too
constrained by 'muzzling muslims', but all together lead one to overreach,
maybe get too self-centred, perhaps masturbate rather than joining up with
the outside, and hence fall, be alone, be married (in some wrong sense, his
"lute all long") and stretched out in the landscape.

6.13-.29.[So now that we know he falls, and why, we are told what $E is
after the fall: Finnegan (6Par. 1), the mythic fish and probably Christ
(6-7Par. 2), the HCE who fell off the wall in the park and who has related
to the girls and soldiers (7-8Par. 1), and , coming up, 8Par. 1ff, Napoleon
and Wellington the wake.] Here, the 12 mourn rowdily, (hoolivans, as McHugh
says they are only Sullivans when aggressive); Finnegan becomes Brian
O'Lynn and a salmon (bradán).

To expand: With another exclamation about how big he is (FDV, "Size! I
should say!"), the Wake starts, with the 12, the Sullivani (cf. 142,
573.06,7) both dismal and full of Christmas cheer. (The "Han and Hun"
sentence, with its CHE, not added till 1936, level 5--I'm always interested
in when he larded with HCE .). Glasheen sees the 12 here as wolves after
Parnell; McH says the 4 (O) make comments, but I'm not sure (some of what
he may mean is very late addition), but at least he stands for a lot, the
salmon (brawdawn), Apocalypse and Genesis, emphasis on the mythic nature.
And the Phil the Fluter quote just says everything gets fuddled. The wake
focusses on universal drink, which we saw in 4par2 and 5-6par2 is centrally
concerned with the fall. [Is drink sin, or is not drinking sin? Seems both,
it both makes things rise and fall.]

6.30-7.19. and the focus changes and we see him now not as at the rowdy
wake, but as the dead Osiris, the sleeping giant, laid out from Chapelizod
to Howth--and all along, ALP "wakes" him. And 7.4ff she turns his wake into
a kind of homey dinner, a part of the city: the fallen giant is served up
by the woman in a communion (highly metaphoric--part of the 'woman picks up
the pieces' theme, the hen). But he disappears, partly simply remembered as
a photograph, partly getting prosaically canned as an old herring. There's
the moment of communion, of ultimate meaning, but it is just a flash and
things go on. The woman almost brings a kind of finality in the meaning of
the man, but all passes (and this is I think the same thing that happens in
Book IV). I.e., in the Fall there is the meaning of the dead god, but it
can't be firmed up permanently. (And that's what the whole book works
like--we memorialize these falls, as moments of a kind of absoluteness
memorializing the ultimacy of the pride of the maker and the
involved-in-life (I'm thinking of his eatingthe apples), but the moment
can't hold.

To expand: So we look at what should be the mythic giant, set in place and
frozen ("wailed" "rockbound") by his (Georgian?) bay windows but made vital
("waked") by the river that runs through him, so to speak, sets him out as
communion feast. It is $X who say his baywinds impeded him, her river wakes
him as he goes through the city essentially out to sea (Tindall says we're
bidding farewell to Ireland) as at the end, and thus she sets the table
with him, lays him out as the communion feast, preserving him (the major
theme, surely. I.e., he's Dublin, run through and made 'real' by the river,
but the mythic quality lost--he disappears into canned fish as you try to
take communion with him, at least for the $X. So the vision fades, it's
only an echo of the past, he's just canned fish: the modern world brought
about his fall (5-6Par. 2) and is the content of the fall as well (here).

7.20-8.08. "Yet" (meaning "but"--a narrator can let us have in the reading
what you can't really have in the living) we can still see the giant form,
and ALP beside him, he snoring and snoozing, she rainy and "nancing by".
We're continuing to see him in Chapelizod and Howth, his mental head at
Howth and his "clay feet" by the Magazine (where he last fellonem), seen by
Maggie and her sister. It defines the man, intellectual and maker, and
capable of sordid falls, and this seen and inspired by the young women even
as the old woman dances about in attendance, parallel to him.

And this transitions into the Waterloo sequence, which is, as an alliance
of belles, simply another instance of the woman observing and inciting the
humiliated hero's fall while "over against this" (i.e. connected with it
but different from it) lie in wait the soldiers. This is thus the crucial
paragraph for this microstructure: the point is we still see the great form
aslumber, and that is what we then take a closer look at, that form as the
museomound: we see what it is made of, what's inside it, what its feet of
clay are (note it's a "proudseye view", that is, those feet of clay are
sexual)--i.e., the familiar scene, pompous man in a dynamic with girls and
soldiers (who are somehow in league [i.e., as children]). And all, of
course, in the general context of a woman (she has just been grinny
spridding the boord, now she is Kate, she will next be the hen) presenting
him, flowing ironically around the edges of him and his action, picking up
the pieces, being the presenter of his inertness.

That is, we have here a series of ways of seeing the fallen Finn: as
Finnegan at the wake, as the fallen masterbuilder offered up as communion
in the city of whose commerce he is part, as the dead Osiris, as the giant
with feet of clay, as the hero like Wellington--all are pompous, all fall
because of orientation to those apples, all are mocked by a younger
generation of men (no, maybe this only comes in with the Waterloo part) and
observed-incited by young women, and the hen-type woman always preserves
what she can and is kind of isolated and cheerful.

To expand: But we can still make him out--even if he's lost into modernity,
we can still 'see the giant form' because the Vico cycles (Brunto, why?)
and the Bruno dynamic of opposites still exist. So looking closer at this
we see $A, who is ruiny and rainy both (so we love her as little and
lovelittle her) as she piddles and is a nannygoat. And we see the big
grumbler too, spread out and with his clay feet where he fellonem in the
girls and soldiers episode. It's where our maggy seen all, and her sister,
$I.2, is in her shawl. And there, also opposites, is the hallowed but ill
hill 60, where is the "site of the lyffing-in-wait of the upjock and
hockums" (and that phrase sums up the ambiguities for me of the girls and
soldiers--the river is what the soldiers are connected with, but then, see
the diagram, JJA16). Finally, we are introduced by Kate to the museyroom.

"the site of the lyffing-in-wait of the upjock and hockums" makes explicit
that the soldiers are by the river and [no matter how much the girls are in
some sense 'versions' of the feminine, of ALP and of what the river is] the
girls are in a different place, as the diagram JJA16 makes clear. On that
scene we should see the hill (Ill Sixty) and the river, and also the
soldiers and the girls [rather than "which is to say, the soldiers and the
girls"].

7.36: "proudseye view"--Grose says "proud" means "desirous of copulation",
which certainly fits the general sense that we are seeing the scene of this
battle in its aspect as sexual dynamic. (And since this is the view, maybe
that's why penetrators are permitted in free.)

8.08-10.24: the Museyroom: it then basically has 3 parts: (for a different
set of notes on it, see link)

1) (to 8.34, where plot starts) we see the haughty Willingdone as
contrasted with the each-other-aggressive sexually specific 3 boys (i.e.,
in a sense we see the grandiose head vs the disreputable private parts,
insofar as it's all HCE, all the giant with head and feet of clay; and
there's the political aspect too, Napoleon as Corsican Upstart and these 3
as "boyne", i.e., the rebellious chidren the Irish are turned into at the
battle of the Boyne), and with the jinnies who trouble ("undesides",
undecide) HCE and who shelter, are in league as rebels with the boys--i.e.,
it is how sexuality challenges and subverts the public man, gits his band
up. Note basicaly same structure as Prankquean--the effort at
communication, feisty children and sexual woman with the haughty man, fails
as he lets the crucial moment be a matter of power and hence in effect
sinks into his isolation again while "she" flows on and "they", the boys,
are left with what consolation may be had from having attacked him and
somehow won (which is his fall). Thus, note, the man's apparent victory is
his actual defeat (which is why this version has Wellington essentially
lose at Waterloo)--what makes him great, the masterbuilder etc., is that
assertiveness, that guilt, which is exactly what prevents him from actual
connection with life in its flowing aspect (which, for its/her part, by
this very fluidity cannot reach achievement and rest: what man creates is
shit, what woman creates is piss. And we can't tell the difference between
these waste products, excrements, and the reproductive juices--they are in
fact for us the same, i.e., what we both rise and fall by, our guilt and
our redemption).

2) the encounter and competition between jinnies and Willingdone (over the
landscape of Belgium, i.e., the body, the arena where the issue of how to
relate sex as communication and struggle takes place), which itself has two
parts, one of which is a kind of prelude to sex (establishing what the
terms will be) and the other the act itelf and remember that there's a
dimension in which this is all HCE masturbating while on the privy looking
at the Lysistrata pictures--the climax in this case is a shit:

part a) (8.34-9.15): the jinnies, as sexually desirable (both, I think, the
forbidden daughter[s] and the wife not as wife but as fellow sexual being
[what the man always has such a hard time with]), through sex (they leave
the marks on his body) lay down a challenge to communication: they ask in
their message (it's like checking in after sex) "we got you, we conquered
(but we are vulnerable to fear, and sicken, too), and so now what, i.e.,
what do you make of your little wife now? (i.e., handle this guilt for
having betrayed her insofar as you have, and pay attention to her as a
person insofar as it's her all along)". This central drama is extended by
the flanking characters who are, in effect, projections of the two sides of
Willingdone involved, the boys (that side of him which is sexual and
rebellious and thus alied with the jinnies) and me Belchum, a side of him
(I keep thinking of it as the body) which is a kind of ally (as was
Blucher) but also a subordinate, with duties and sneaky and ultimately what
catches the crap: here he breaks (violates but also reveals) his
secret/sacred word--somehow he's part of the dynamic, what makes this be a
defeat in victory for Willingdone. At any rate, Willingdone replies to the
jinnies with what's written on me Belchum's rear (as they inscribed theirs
on his front), which is a rejection like Wellington's of his lover, Dear
Jenny publish and be damned (i.e., no further communication, sex was all it
was, fuck you): it doesn't matter. This is really at the heart of the
picture here: men take sex as dirty, like shitting, and women as trying to
defeat them by drawing them to it, so to reject communion with the woman
feels like a victory to the man.

part b) (9.15-.35) Despite this establishing of the conflictual terms, the
Belchum still returns to the jinnies (i.e., there will be this sex/battle)
and with the sexual parts engaged (of course), i.e., jinnies and lipoleums
(white and red), and presented as a whole lot of battles (Crimea [no
Russians at Waterloo], peninsular ones, Thermopylae, etc.), Willingdone
does his business--it is thunder, the word of Cumbrun, a loose stool (too
loose), the match is lit for the smell (the solphereens), but it also is a
sexual act: both cry out (she that her underwear is wet and she's wetter
underneath, and that the goat has stripped or defeated the lambs, and with
a "God punish England" resentment too (the woman resents the tone of the
act if not the act itself)--but it ends with the woman tripping away
(unreachable, really, cf. Prankquean) and the Belchum left heavily to feel
"thank you for the crap I'm left in my head feeling it was like". "Poor the
pay" indeed! And Willingdone finally, as men always do, takes it as a
reinforcement of pride, and brandishes his tallowscoop (looks at them with
his telescope afterwards, as from a haughty distance) on the jinnies saying
'every man for himself', though at the same time, in the privy, it's saying
that after the shit he can go on masturbating (branler) over the pictures.

Part 3: (9.35-10.23). Insofar as it's the Oedipal drama, now we see the
next generation, outraged and terrified at what they've learned by
observing how it is between the parents, rebel and shoot the father down.
(I.e., this is the Russian General story--arrogance of power reveals its
contemptible [but all too human--the idealistic young shouldn't be so
surprised that the father shits] pretenses and vulgarities and the next
generation blows him away and takes over--this too is part of the basic
story.) (And I think this can be put in terms of intra-HCE dynamics too:
the various aspects of the energetic "younger" part do rise again and get
their own back against the settled, pompous aspect--all of us have both
sides in us.)

I.e., at 9.35-.36 we're told it's the two rival brothers, and see their
outrage (note they turn gradually from the Welsh-Scots-English trio, and
from being Napoleons (upstarts) as against Brits, to Irish (hinn [i.e.
fhionn, light] and dubh, dark, Shaun and Shem) and Indian (Hindu--this
brings the political-racial into it, the arrogant Englishman vs the lesser
breeds: we all see ourselves as closed out in various ways from the father,
and can identify with racially other outsiders.) They are well hung and
he's a fake (as Napoleon was, genitally). The two extremes hinn and dubh
become the single Shimar Shin (ShemShaun), and as Willingdone picks up
Napoleon's hat and hangs it on his horse (or his ass) in arrogant triumph
(we're reminded that he's brandishing the telescope in this), and even
dares the sons by offering his matchbox (go ahead blow me up if you dare),
the seepoy blows the hat off the horse, i.e. shoots Willingdone in the ass
(and note that this is associated with the great surprise at Waterloo, the
Guards jumping up and repuling Napoleon's crack troops--so that this time
the picture is of the lowly English soldier defeating the Emperor and
empire--though at the same time Willingdon has given the matchbox to the
"cursigan" Shimar Shin, the Corsican upstart), hollering that he's fucking
him in the ass (pucker up) and fuck yourself.

So this is HCE himself, it is How Copenhagen ended. That is, now we really
now what the dynamics of the fall are, how arrogance and the inability not
to feel guilty about sex and power make one properly overthrown by the next
generation, the inheritors who even within themselves have the same mixture
one has oneself (for they are oneself). That is, now we know what brought
about this municipal sin business, 5.13.

10.25-12.17 (two paragraphs this time):After the disaster which is the
dynamic of history we look at how we come back from it (for we're talking
cycles here, not final catastrophes)--the pigeons and crows flown, Lumproar
dead, here comes the gnarlybird, collecting everything (11.17ff introduces
the letter from Boston), and we will find that in a sense this colection
exactly is the reimposition of process on what has become inert, thus it is
the way we humans in our female aspect 'write a defensive letter to the
authorities' which makes our case for us in its very process, first as in
111 and finally more discursively, brought forward to a final more or less
explicitness (the very structure of the book here). The hen will keep
things going and see to it that there's breakfast.

To expand: On coming out, after the fall what is left for the woman to pick
up? We see the fallen emperor, the two have flown north and the 3 south.
The bird doesn't come out when the big Norse thunder/sun god is blustering,
but she steals a present for us from the past in order to set out $E as the
kettle of fish, the communion supper, as had been stated at 7.08-9. She
knows rise and fall make life worth living, and she's resourceful--in the
flood she'll find food and fire, and even if men (Humpty, M) fall and are
dopily political like Grand Remonstrance, there'll be eggs for the
breakfast mourners (a joke? Humpty himself?): but it's more than that,
because "therewhere's a turnover the tay is wet too", and this is saying
that in her scavenging there is fertility (something to do with $E turning
over later, and it says that the sight of a bottom will lead to cock and
hen: cf 585.30-1, where it exactly doesn't happen, and $E is rejected with
"you never wet the tay" (and that's probably drafted earlier, but check
that--if true, this would be set up in knowledge that it won't happen).
This is the period of hope. [these two Par. $S inserted after the
transition to Mutt and Jute drafted.]

general sum 12.18-18.16, through Mutt and Jute and to the claybook: the
annalists have told the stages of history and the characters that run
through it, Quinet has reminded us that there's a peaceful natural level
that cuts across it, and we reflect how various levels of inhabitants come
and go in their squabbles and unions, but leave a whale in a barrel and
you'll get younguns. Then the narrator, the cad (as a "mutt", mixed, young)
i.e. a $( figure, finds his Jute (one race, old, a "michindaddy", M in his
S role--note that both Mutt and Jute try to spell "hesitancy" and can't do
it, everybody always wants to seem the good native Parnell not the
miserable traitor). Jute sort of benignly dimly comprehends (and offers
Guinness and guineas to ease the pain) while Mutt rages at the fall of
Brian Boru the (in a positive sense) "usurper", blaming Sitric for it,
reads the fall as a great shit like Willingdone's (so that this time we get
the defeated falling/shitting rather than the victor--it's all the same in
effect), and reflects movingly on how all are laid low by death and all is
dust. [ Thus THIS IS YET ANOTHER LOOK AT THE MOMENT OF THE FALL AND ITS
AFTERMATH. From it we turn to the residue, the earth (just as we did after
the Museyroom), this time asking not "what does history look like after the
cosmic fall?" but "how does culture arise from the 'brickdust' that is all
that is left after the fall, that is in fact the world as shitpile?" It
happens through the way language comes out of objects and becomes
characters and stories, which of course will then replicate in 'the book'
what underlay them and shares their pattern in the world of natural and
social process.

Another formulation, and continuing: After the Museyroom in various
historical periods we see the evidence of the same struggles which cause
the fall, yet we also see that this fall produces succeeding generations, a
process that goes on beside it (rather than being caused by it) as the
flowers do beside civilization and battles in the Quinet sentence. And then
we turn to Mutt and Jute, which is a 'plebeian discourse' on the fall with
special reference to Ireland and invaders--it amounts to mourning $E as
Brian Boru but saying that death is the fate of all, after which we turn to
the way in which the whole world is brickdust, as FDV says, and look at it
as an alphabet from which to put together communications from the past.

12.18-13.05: [From the museyroom, the first draft turned directly to
"review the two mounds", the two hills in Castleknock, remember, McH
doesn't give]. Coming out, we are able then to back off a little and make
our "review of the two mounds", in which we find Olaf, Ivor and Sitric,
(surely $/\, $(, $/( ), and everybody like fleas on the middle of $E
interred between Howth and the Park(12.34-5), in fact the whole is 12.24, a
treepurty on the planko in the purk. (cf 87.35): I begin to think the whole
scene on the fair green is simply modern Ireland, a teaparty in the park
which is really better seen in terms of the ambush, the girls and soldiers,
etc.: modern life as this kind of teaparty.

13.06-.19: And then we see that this amounts to the giant's grave which
projects music into the two who struggle forever, in the continuing
discord.

To expand, that is to say we are back in modern Ireland, especially in
Dublin and maybe especially in the Park, the place where the parallel to
Waterloo takes place. We see that it's Dublin, the grave of $E, with Mick
and Nick listening in at all the music, viols and harps. The FDV makes it a
little plainer: the narrator is saying that the scene looks like an
engraving of an old Irish burial--"look for himself" and you can see Finn
there."Look for himself. See? ...FinnFinn" says that we can see Finn
MacCool in modern Dublin, and Mick (a tired tramp) looks on as Nick (an
equally tired bard) play the tune that seems to be coming from Finn, and
struggle, listen, 'pretumble' or pretend forever, and the harp's discord is
theirs forever. This is all simply to say that WE HAVE TO SAY THAT MODERN
IRELAND HAS INHERITED ANCIENT IRELAND AND WATERLOO AND IS NO DIFFERENT,
ALWAYS WE SEE THE SAME DUMB DISCORD (put in terms of 'dischord').

13.20-28. And that allows a historical generalization, first of structure,
then of sequence: the structure is the four things , the bauble on the
alderman (cf. 4.35-5.4 and 31.2-3), the shoe of the woman (cf. masses of
shoesets, etc., 11.22-3 and 111), the brinabride, the pen and post (the
sequence is in the next paragraph).

To expand: It is a summing up: the 4 Masters say what is eternal (and
implicitly what we've seen the dynamics of) is these '4 things', which is
our four characters and how they work: $E (the flowerpot, 31.03, grand but
winter sterile); the Shan Van Vocht, $A, (the shoe, a container, spring
bringing life, see 14.4); the deserted maid $I, (brinabride, Aphrodite born
from the foam, 399.03, 595.05, the spring fecund though chaste); and $(
plus $/\ (pen no weightier than polepost, the next generation, fall
sowing). These make a cycle, basically winter, spring, summer, fall (not
the order of the 4 books, I think).

13.29-14.16: The sequence is somehow circular, and somehow runs from the
death of Finn (in 283 AD) to the birth of Laurence O'Toole (1132), and in
sequence is 1) the sexual act (whale in runnel) with little people issueing
("wares", commerce, HCE), 2) the woman collecting shoes in her kish
("works", the gathering move, ALP), then after "silent" [a break which
happens elsewhere in the book: see 334.32 and 501.06] we do the second
generation, the other gender-way around: 3) the red-headed damsel losing
her puppette to the ogre, the wars ("wars"--Issy [and does this say her
basic image is of losing her other half, a kind of isolation in her
splitting as the boys have conflict in theirs?],), and 4) the conflict
between the saintly accusatory Primus and the drunkard but peaceloving
Caddy, which is to say between Shaun and Shem.

To expand, "The Annals tell how" says FDV, the characters we've just seen
run through history (BC first, then AD) and maybe characterize its phases:
$E as the whale with ants on it (cf 12.35) lying in the runnel (the vagina,
says Gordon), bloody Irish wars (and LOT born 1132, remember) but "wares",
commerce; $A at 566 finds shoes in her kish as the runs past Sackville
street (giving birth?), "blurry works" like birth; then there's the
"silent" period, change of era, to next generation and from ancient to
historic time, here the religious wars, and $I also at the 566 time like
her mother but now AD, and again connected with the sea like Aphrodite,
mourns her sister taken away by the ogre, and this is the religious wars;
$/\ and $( born in 1132, saintly and thief-ironist, $( writing "Oh Peace",
which is a farce, and this is "blotty words".

14.15-15.28: These summaries seem too general, though, with too little
sense of realistic report. In the gap between aeons, somehow we lost the
copyist (maybe he just got killed, because in the middle ages who cared
about writers?). So we have to look (14.28ff) at what we have around
us--and behold, despite all the foregoing and the historians, and despite
all the conflict, we have the truth of the Quinet sentence (see 281 and
translation), which is that the flowers keep on blooming no matter what
history goes on.

To expand: The copyist must have fled (i.e., we don't in our fallen world
have the straight scoop), frightened by things appropriate to the 4 ages:
flood, an elk (?), the thunder, or finally the housewife bangs a pan and
the cock is scared off, or murdered, since killing a scribe was only
punished by ninepence fine, which in our fine era after all the wars a
person can be executed for stealing (or for coveting neighbor's wife).

15.12-.28: So if we do look around us, despite all the foregoing and the
historians, and despite all the conflict, we have the truth of the Quinet
sentence (see 281 and translation), which is that the flowers keep on
blooming no matter what history goes on. It emphasizes how the colonists
pestered each other, and the brothers fought, and the city grew, but the
flowers are as fresh as in the times of Brian Boru. Note: why does he
specifically insist on the seemingly misplaced comma after "as"? Does it
suggest we're on the eve of Killallwho right now?

To expand: the Babelers have said their silly stuff in their languages, and
fell upon one another, but still flora say to fauna "cull me, fuck me", and
it's true: leave [or bathe] a whale in a hill barrow (13.34) and you'll get
fins and flippers--i.e. children. That is, as all the way from 10.25 it's
saying that OUT OF THE WRECKAGE COMES NEW LIFE TO THE OLD PATTERN. And we
even go back to quoting "Finnegan's Wake".

15.29-18.16: Mutt and Jute: But we are involved in history, we aren't the
flowers--so with an abrupt jump we look at it from inside, as it were,
through Mutt and Jute, who give us another version of the brother-battle
and of the way it always winds up in a dump, in shit or in "brickdust".
Mutt and Jute: It is a story involving the older level of HCE, as the one
we approach is Sacksoun, the snake, and what he does is skulking (miching)
about the scene of old days. But he at once stops being
someone-observed-by-a-narrator and becomes becomes
two-talking-to-each-other (remember this pattern of the head turning into
the toes) and there can't be any doubt that the dialogue is a brother story
(by the end it is conspiratorial children as Mutt, in Shakespearean
madness, says watch out for the giant Forficules and ALP) and there is
primary emphasis on their roles not being fixed--they switch them, after
all (as we will see the brother roles switch in the Prankquean story and
even, some say, in the entire book) and the one we've approached, Jute,
becomes the one who does the questioning we would have expected from the
approacher. Here they swop hats and they exchange roles in the sense that
Jute is the one who sympathetically but definitely de haut en bas asks Mutt
the questions, as if Mutt were the one found there, the one being
interviewed, and indeed he answers as if he were: he's sometimes deaf, and
became mute for a while, "apud the buttle".

Moreover, what he is talking about is in a sense a brother story, likewise
dealing with Brian Boru and Sitric Silkenbeard, whose roles it is also
difficult to be straight about, and of whom the final point is the common
pattern and common fate (the pattern: to make history by usurpation; the
fate: to exemplify and cause the litter of lives like snowflakes on the
strand), just as the point about Wellington and Napoleon was exactly that.
(One thing is that Mutt is clearly reproaching Jute for not attending
enough to Irish history--what inn? the inn of Dungtarf "where you ought to
be" in early draft.)

As a brother-story, it is pretty plain that Jute (at least at first while
we approach him) is Shaun, in that we think he can "prapsposterus" (post)
the way to the mailbox; he is moreover said to be a "mahan", which is
"bear", which is the name of Brian Boru's brother (sometimes an antagonist
of Brian). Moreover he's the politically committed one, and the one who
knows fewer languages than his interregator, who is thus more in the Shem
line. And he is, as usual, plugging the good old days, and bemoaning the
loss of Brian Boru (and the Formorians who died of the plague on this
plage), and this too seems in the general Shaun arena.

Fitting this, I think, is the way he (under hostile questioning, he thinks,
as suggested by the fact that he thinks his interregator is trying to trap
him and so tries to give him what such interregator's want, the proper
spelling of "hesitency") manages to lurch back into his presentation of his
feelings and bursts out with "Booru Usurp": now "usurper" is a good word
here, in that Brian Boru is said to have usurped by taking Ireland from the
Vikings and also becoming High King and taking it away from clan lords and
moving it into feudalism. Yet "usurper" is what Stephen called Mulligan.
I.e., from the Shem point of view that is a bad thing (taking over power,
etc.) but from the Shaun point of view it is good, it is firming up
Irishness from its alien enemies (and Shem is in general the exile side,
maybe also the invader side, and Shaun the stayathome)--what we have, in
this sense, is a very positive presentation of the Shaun side, something
rather rare in the book which is usually so ironic about him.

So what Jute (though speaking as Mutt, remember) is doing is trembling with
wrath when he thinks of how Brian Boru is killed by a Viking, and I think
(this is the nub) the "he" of "he was poached on" is Boru (a grilsy
growlsy, a Finn-like salmon and a Boru-like bear at the same time (I get
around the fact the Mahan is Boru's brother not Boru himself by the weight
here on the interchangeability of the roles). He's saying that he lost, was
poached on, was killed in his tent, because he took on that uniting, that
usurping role, and thus in effect "dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages"

[note that in first two drafts there's a question mark after "riverpool",
which makes better sense, though Joyce's own fair copy is what dropped
it--originally it was Jute asking "did he get nailed just because he
created history on our shores here?" and Mutt then assenting, "yes, just as
a riverpool forms itself in a soft rock which is thus ready for it" [which
transforms that rubbages image into something much more positive, part of
process instead of product]--I think this is much clearer with that
question mark]

(that is, fell like Humpty Dumpty, which we get in the image of the process
of dumping rubbish, or shit--i.e., just like Willingdone, a victory in
battle amounts to creating a pile of shit)

[which crucial image is that any achievement, something which creates
something or firms something up, turns it essentially into something dead,
merely detritus, gives everything a kind of firmed-up quality which has
lost the creative spark which needs to be brought back out of it by
process, by the hen's move of picking out the good parts and bricolaging
them together into something dynamic which she has there in her kish, just
as this book is itself such a rubbish-dump in which the processes are
operating to make it be something dynamic again]

onto the strand (this rubbish becomes the lives, "litters from aloft", in
Joyce's familiar snow image from Portrait and The Dead), and this is said
to be "pride, o pride, thy prize"--that is, there's irony in this sad
outcome of human achievement, and it works like the "poor the pay" which is
the bottom line of Waterloo, but also links to "brinabride", the image of
Issy as deserted village (13.26-7 and as Venice, Venus--maybe the ultimate
image of the river becoming the bride of the sea at the very end of the
book.)

Now to go back to the dynamic, when Mutt gets so excited about Brian Boru,
Jute (remember, the Shem type, though they're speaking for each other)
makes the usual "it's a long time ago and besides the opposites are really
the same thing anyway" argument by saying that there are two sons ("bisons
is bisons") and just forget about it, here's some money for drink and your
qualms can be allayed ("fore all your hasitancy"--i.e., despite the guilt
and anguish that you feel for your sense of Piggott-like being involved in
treachery and being part of an invader, usurper [as Piggott was after all
in the pay of England]). But when Mutt sees the money (and it is that
wooden money which invaders try to pass off on the poor Irish) he again
recognizes the authority figure and bemoans again the loss--with "Louee,
louee" he says "it's him"

(surely HCE, the Viking invader from the son's point of view, as it is
Sitric {and is that "greytcloak" the O'Connell Foley statue's cloak, which
we will hear about in the cad encounter? 35.10, .13 {and I note that at
35.13 the cad gets the overcoat and is also Brian O'Lynn--hmmm, but I guess
once again I have to face that nothing is more expectable that the
opposites will seem to be identical, and HCE and cad are the same person as
Shaun and Shem, Mutt and Jute are}

, and gets his hearing back ("l'ouie"): that is, instead of just going off
and getting drunk and forgetting all about it, the very bribe money,
reminding him of how the invader has betrayed and killed the hero Brian
Boru and changed all he stood for, primitive Irishness in its old
authoritative aspect, into modern money etc., makes him all the madder, all
the more focussed on how we (if I have this right) substituted 1000
greetings for our one "dabblin bar", the bear Brian (i.e., duality of
invaders lost the singularity of natives--a very Shaun point), replacing
the one (and that one an HCE, a Mark) with the many.

[This reading has it all focus on the loss of Brian Boru as primitve
virtue, rather than on the achievement at Clontarf of keeping Ireland from
the Vikings].

So Mutt winds up raving more (he could "snore to him", chatter about) about
Brian, who has become Brian O'Lynn, i.e., quintessential Irishman and
eccentric (with his hairy side in breeches) though now a Norman, Brian d'
of Linn.

[This cuts against my argument, in a way--the "him" seems here the invader,
and that would read back to the "he" who is poached on being Sitric not
Brian Boru: I think maybe it doesn't get exactly straight: both are
authority figures, versions of HCE, after all, and both create history and
in a sense take over from a primitive level (as Boru was the usurper from
an earlier order)--Mutt is full of passion, but it is hard to be sure of
his partisanship, and maybe it's just that he's overwhelmed with thinking
about invaders and betrayal and the great man shitting history: after all,
that's the general response of the son level, of Butt and Taff and of
Shimar Shin].

And the above bracketed passage would make sense of what follows--while
Jute accuses Mutt of being incoherent here, and himself a foreigner (all
this Rotterdam rot), Mutt in a sudden wonderfully reflective turn says ok,
I grant the incoherence of my feelings, but just consider this scene, once
natural and where there will be the city and the "icefloe" from the "Inn
the Byggning" (the "inn" of dungtarf? 16.22?) to the Phoenix Park and to
the end of time: he justifies his attitude of "let Erin remember" with the
picture he paints--there have always been the opposites waxing and waning,
the native and invader race like the river and sea flowing back and forth,
sweet and brackish, "mearmerge"ing, and both HCE (by the initials)--and
what it amounts to is the fall of lives upon this strand like the
Parthelonians under the plague. And all are gone, dust to dust, all part of
this earthmound. So now wonder (in effect) that I get passionate in
thinking about the moments of that process (and maybe even no wonder that
whose side I'm on at any moment is hard to tell).

And it ends with Mutt returning from his eloquence, about the earth as
brickdust and humus and all being process, into not his original
inarticulateness but a very Shakespearian madness, a sly caution about the
parents (the gyant Forficules and the river ALP as Morgan le Fay), and a
final valediction over the "viceking's graab".

18.17-21.04: the claybook: So then, after the Mutt and Jute episode shows
what history is (brother-battle, a blending and separating and a result of
brickdust), we take a look at its components considered as the raw
materials of what lets us write about it, bring it under control, namely
the alphabet. This is just the same as turning from the museomound to the
way the hen picks up her bits and pieces from that same battlefield. The
narrator instructs us to see if we can read the lesson in this earth
directly. And this is that this book of life (not death) shows us people
indeed going along in the cycle from ignorance to ignorance but with a
connection to heaven. (and maybe that connection is the alphabet whose
lessons we learn from ploughing (the most immediate lesson of which is that
we keep seeing armed figures reappearing, a sort of dragon's teeth).

To expand, its general structure is that 18.17 we get the letters
themselves, deriving from Eve and the apple and the snake (and note that
the story to be told is said 20.33 to be of a 'snaky woman'); then 19.20 we
see how they sort themselves into the basic sexual division (sons of the
sod and dugters of Nan); then 19.31 we see how human work worked on them as
on the land itself and made the type which allows combinations into the
physical embodiment of the family relations, and 20.19 we are told they
make up stories in their interaction--upon which we turn to the story they
make up, the Prankquean.

18.17-19.19 There is ploughing of the earth, forward and backward, and it
seems to be the creation of letters, and these in turn are connected with
war: the flint seems to allow the fire when the Guards jump them, face to
face; the p's and q's, but especially the p's, make the pellets that are
involved in the soldier's parole (word?) (and maybe the tommygun?)--etc. In
short, we can see the letters as figures playing out the same struggles as
in the physical world, since they are objects in the book of the earth,
$[], just as people are. Going through some of them (amusingly) climaxes in
the revelation that snakes are central to them, brought by woman in the
fall but expelled by Patrick, who catches them (with strong echoes of
9.31--after the fall there are snakes around, and part of the mopping-up
process is "citchin the crapes", as Patrick "cotched the creeps": woman
(triangular toucheterre) introduced the fall, and the Patrick $/\-type
undoes it.

19.20-.30: Then after the raw alphabet has been explained, we continue with
the way they combine into words, and get Confucius, signs and wonders, and
the division into the 3 and the 2 by algebraic process. That is, this runs
through the characters and family, and climaxes that we are all sons of the
sod (of $E the accusable of homosexuality) when we are not daughters of
Nan. Thus this starts to bring in ALP after Mutt and Jute have been so much
about HCE. It is setting up to study the interaction between them, in the
Prankquean.

19.31-20.18: Continuing the survey of the development of language and of
$[], history shows that in earliest times, with no pens and paper, the
earth wrote its own runes; just as tools created letters (18.30), so
objects create the type of the book $[], which carries the
family/dwelling/generation ("dor") of all the meanings of the words through
the whole book. I.e., general point: there's the fall and all is dust, but
things rise up into language and become this book, culture, something that
can be thought about and has been erected and thus is not just dust.

20.19-21.04: With a thoroughly self-aware amused note to the reader ('cry
not yet', we've got a long way to go to the stuff promised by "nondum",
'not yet' on page 3 (that is, to the story itself, assumed to be beginning
after this overture, in I.2), but look what we've got even so far in this
"handsel"): The pieces of type are in motion (like the snakes), every
earwig's got its Whig and Tory tale to tell--the words are on the move,
making stories!

The 20.19ff paragraph generally introduces and summarizes the Prankquean
story to come. It says we've got the 1, the 2, and the 3 all ready
(20.23-5), and generally sets it through the language as Rabelaisian, a
tale (note how .23-8 only added in second galleys) of a "noarch and a
chopwife"--Noah as ur-story, connected with beginnings of the race, and the
castrating woman--she "snaky" like Eve, full of pranks, and combinedly the
best wind that blows no good (it 'blows "nay" on good') and that does blow
good (by reference to 'it's an ill wind...") [one of those 'opposites'
things]; it has to do with the boys as 'golden youths that wanted gelding'
and the girl as troublemaker (mischievmiss made a man do, 20.30-1). We're
instructed to watch out (cf Mutt telling us the same on 18.8-11), here's
the Norwegian earwig saying his usual 'Veni vidi vici' (except that it
seems to be "I came, I fucked, I came a little bit"--i.e., already the
usual failure, like the Willingdone story and the book as a whole), and now
we'll hear the story.

And it ends on Issy's peeing (Lissom! Lissom! I am doing it.) and HCE and
ALP--which is a good transition into the Prankquean.

After the Mutt and Jute story gives us the public ur-event of history (a
struggle between brother types which winds up in catastrophe yet with a
sense that the dynamic is universal, the blending of races like river with
sea), we turn to the private ur-event of history, the family version of the
same thing, struggle between men and women yielding a victory that
similarly seems inert and separated yet is the way of going on.

21.05-23.15: The Prankquean: First a more compact summary, then more
expanded.

The PQ takes the boys and they have a strange relation to her, much as the
alps with the lipoleums 8.30, and indeed the jinnies and the lipoleums
(9.7-8): thus the PQ is to Jarl with regard to jiminies as jinnies are to
Willingdone with regard to the lipoleums (and by extension, Napoleon, and
Shimar Shin). That is, from the obvious gender point of view we're looking
at PQ try something with jarl much like what jinnies try with Willingdone,
and though it comes out the same way (a klutzy aggressive shitting of the
man with regard to the woman, which he takes as a victory but which leads
to her disappearing and a much-reduced situation being left) a central
aspect of what happens is that somehow it gets diverted into something to
do with jiminies and lipoleums respectively: boys have a kind of attachment
to their mother that makes the adults hostile to each other and makes the
young ones be pawns in the game, taking sides like the lipoleums or being
manipulated like the jiminies.

And in both cases there is a kind of absent, or strangely underplayed,
member, me Belchum and Dermot. Me Belchum breaks his word, Dermot is
betrayed, and both these are in contrast to the stories, where Blucher
exactly kept his and it was Dermot who did the betraying.

Finally there's the dummy. She (presumably) is like a kind of counter in
the family, and is what the PQ gets when all is settled up (she's the ship)
as the jimminies are the waves and Jarl is the wind. It makes $I pretty
neutral, and marks the difference if the $I place is held by the jinnies in
the Museyroom (that is, in the Museyroom there is no singular woman, unless
we count Kate). But mostly it seems we're focussing on the female side with
the boy kids here (PQ and jiminies) as we focussed on the male side and
female kid(s) with Willingdone and the jinnies: the female taunts the male
into aggressive action which is connected with hostility from the sons.

The plot: Tristopher and Hilary are kickaheeling the dummy; Tristopher is
taken away; and next Hilary and the dummy are wrestling on the tearsheet
and she takes up one (Hilary) and leaves one (Tristopher) at which point
their names must switch; she comes back and Toughertrees (changed, note)
and the dummy are kissing etc. (because she changed his nature?) and she
has Larryhill (also changed by this time) with her. I.e. she changes them,
possibly as a lesson to Jarl, but it does no good.

I think she somehow wants to make Jarl over from Mark to Tristan--she calls
him Mark the Tris eventually, and he comes out like Boanerges, James and
John, $/(, though also 'terror of the dames' like Brian Boru $E. And when
he emerges, he looks the complete Viking (Lodbrok breeches etc.) and it
adds up to making him an Orangeman and like Strongbow and it is to shit.
Can't get more $E than that.

sum: so Prankquean story ends in irony: it's doorkeeping (porthory),
everything rhymes, and it amounts to the same cross-purposes as the tailor
who can't sew and the captain who can't be fit (which will later be
rewritten somewhat differently, with reconciliation). This is, thunder and
all, the moment of the fall and the change of cycle, when the energy of
denial comes into the world--note that the Prankquean's project is to make
Jarl see that everything is everything else (like as peas), much like the
Archdruid's project in Book IV is to show that all colors are green (the
Jarl is differentiated, and amounts to Orange!), and once again thus
differentiation/discrimination between things is the creative act, the
happy fall. From the bad apple comes the piled-up good. Now begins a
mourning over the fallen giant. That is, we've seen various versions of the
fall, and now we consider the fallen $E with the prospect of resurrection.
But note that the 23.16 Par basically shows the couple lying miserably side
by side after the bad consummation, as (I think--let us see) III.4 does.

To expand: The Prankquean, summary in two units, the second of which starts
here

One notes that skirmishes begin this like the Waterloo episode, and a woman
peeing likewise, as a kind of challenge (like Lipoleum) to a man (an
austere one, like Willingdone; and who is HCE): back to the same thing,
with jiminies (male) for jinnies (female). And the fire which follows the
water is like the battles which follow the "water";. that is, the jinnies
make their war undisides the Willingdone, the Prankquean made her wit
foreninst the dour: seems the same. And she asks a question, like the
jinnies sending the letter, which is a challenge to the man and described
as a skirtmish.

Mark she calls him, and he's Howth, and she is Grania, Grace, so it's about
his failing, in large part, to guess the right riddle (which somehow
amounts to saying she's alike because she is herself: a recognition
matter); because the giant fails the woman (as somehow Willingdone the
jinnies) somehow she takes up with (here, just takes up!) the son-level,
the happy/sad, the hinndoo, the tristan level which contests mark (and
Tristopher goes with shandy: this Tristram is sad, deprived, the result of
a basic loss of sexual connection). (so note: as William III, again, Finn
is the sleeping giant as usurper who lays cold hands on himself, is somehow
missing the connection there waiting, which is basically the HCE ALP
relation.)

Jarl van Hoother wirelesses for her, saying both stop thief! and stop for I
am deaf, missed what you were saying, you should come back to my
hearing/Erin. The ambiguity as between them clear.

.27-8: she leaves, washes the love-spots off the jiminy: in this sense it's
as if she refuses to have gotten together with van Hoother as Dermot: as
if, if he had answered, the love-spot would be pledge, but since he didn't
it isn't and she won't let the jiminy be marked like that. Come to think of
it, marking and Marking go here.

The second time she comes to Chapelizod, the bar, the basement not the
attic; the third time she comes to the mansion--a sort of extension.

21.36: why two ms in jimminy this time? [22.1 dummy--for consonance, like
Turkish?]

first time she is grace, second madesty (but first time it was Tristopher,
sad, second Hilary, happy); first time he warlessed with soft dovesgall
(Dane), second he bleethered with loud finegale (i.e. light foreigner,
Norse)--since first is Howth and second Chapelizod it happens only slightly
different second time around, suggesting Bruno's concordance of opposites
(Joyce in a letter: Bruno says 'every power in nature must evolve an
opposite in order to realize itself and opposition brings reunion etc', G
p. 41.)

first time she swaradid unlikelihud (pretty negative), second 'am liking
it' (pretty positive). first time it's a Branwen fire and a sabboath night
of falling angles (Trist., the Hil), second it's a Grania fire and a
laurency night of starshootings (Hil., then Trist.)--sabboath vs. laurency
I don't totally get. But first time it's masters who tauch tickles, second
monitrixes who touch tears, first she washes blessings of lovespots off,
and second punches curses of Cromwell into (with nail of a top; Tale of a
Tub?)--seems harsher, generally, as a luderman (playful) is vs. a tristian,
sad.

subjects: red and white (Lancaster and York); weather (storm, rain, water)
+ fire; Mark (Finn) Tristan (Dermot) Isolde (Grania); pots of porter and
peas in a pod (and porter-pee) ; Howth and Chapelizod; river flowing and
returning (breaking down its interchangeable banks?); Dane vs. Irish; maybe
dove (dovesgall) vs. raven (bleethered?); deaf vs. dumb; curses vs. play
(luderman); pro vs con(vorting); n and m keep going back and forth
(madameen vs Turlemeem, e.g., and m and n in jiminy vs two ms in dummy but
sometimes jimminy.

[the riddle is about identity, being and doing and appearing; why am I
identical to myself; why am I two peas within one pod; why am I/do I pee
and therefore relate porter to water; why is my pee before the door and
what are you going to do about it, accept or reject it: it is all a
challenge to the male, failing which one of his children is stolen and the
cycle is continued for another forty years, which is to say forever: the
woman flows, the man closes himself up in his barrow, mountain lies by
river which flows to the sea and returns.

Here the second unit of this summary starts.

A reading of the Prankquean episode starting from kirssy the tiler [and
basically before reading Solomon, who does it somewhat differently]: when
the story ends "happily," with the shutter being shut (a final answer,
doing replacing saying, and the man evacuating, i.e. shitting on the woman
[though I always recognized how the dumping was of the erection and the
"shot" is different from "shut", so it is sexual too: there is intercourse
here, but I think it's like Color Purple and 'he does his business on
me']), they all drank free (tea and three) and fatuously say men are better
than women, and the narrator comments ironically that this is alliterative
poetry and illiterate (ignorant) doorkeeping, first in this fatuous world
of elements (i.e., it defines how things will keep on going), and then
gives images of how it will extend: to brother battle among jerks (the
captain saying the tailor can't sew, the tailor saying the captain can't be
fitted: and the hunchbacked captain being HCE of course, and the Jarl, and
via P/K kirssy being Pirssy, which O'Hehir says is Piers Healy, hence Healy
the hound, hence betrayer of Parnell, and also says Glasheen Peirs O'Reilly
or Earwicker by that route--so it means that men and their struggles
replace what would have been right if the Jarl could have answered the
question: that is, to 'make a suit of clothes' reminds us of the argument,
but also to 'make a sweet unclose' seems homosexual to me, it says the
tiler or doorkeeper opens the door to the captain (maybe captol=capital on
a column?) with his narwhale horn. And certainly what follows amounts to a
'now that that's over, here's the covenant we've reached', which is 'so far
and no farther' (as per God's instructions in Job, and in contrast, I
think, to the Parnell claim that no man has a right to say thus far and no
further (that is, I think the kirssy/Healy who uncloses all this is a
destroyer of Parnell, stands for rejecting what he wanted)), and moreover
is a covenant "betoun ye and be", i.e., between self and being, a
constriction. This covenant is that the woman keeps her status as dummy
(with all we've seen of that, being kickaheeled, spitting and kissing,
etc.) and as pirate roving the sea of time, while the children who should
somehow have been accepted and melded if the Jarl had been able to see that
the artificial differences he insists on are false (that I am as alike as
peas in a pod because I am one, not many), as we have seen in how
interchangeable happiness and sadness, the identities of eclamation (by
jiminy!) are,

'keep the peacewave,' that is, remain the banks within which the dummyship
sails, keep time flowing by the tension between them, and the Jarl keeps on
getting the wind up, that is, making the same kind of flatulent thunderous
refusals and separations we've seen, which keep this happening in that they
provide the wind for the ship to sail on the wave with, and also an echo of
getting the band up like Napoleon, getting erections which keep the whole
thing going. Joyce is saying, I think, that the woman asked the questions
which could have been answered one way (by saying you in all your forms
look alike because you are one), and the apparent differences between
sadness and happiness etc. are so interchangeable that the Jarl should be
able to see that--but they are answered another, by the shutting of the
door which is on the one hand an act of sex (since he is called out and
acts, 'shot' replacing 'shut') and on the other is an act of evacuation and
seems like a rejection. Religion used to say all was unity and that's what
ran things, but FW says it is this insistence on conflict which runs
things, which makes this general picture of the river constrained between
its banks and flowing past the mountain on which, in effect, it calls in
vain (though in fact the mountain/city/penis rise and fall is part of what
makes the river flow--it is that there is basically separation, isolation,
noncommunication which is the basic tone. The fusion and oneness are longed
for, but there are only cycles.

Soloman reads it that she raises his desire, which does rise, and finally
he comes out all raring from the door which has been closed against her,
and the sexual climax is not a refusal but a mixed completion: but in
effect that's what I said, perhaps: she doesn't have any moralizing in it
at all, any rejection of the Jarl's actions, any failure, any sense of
fatuousness in the Jarl--probably she's right, but the issue is finally
between on the one hand seeing this where the temptress brings the man out
in a bold and orduring act as just the way it is, and on the other, seeing
it as less than what could be. I've got to admit that to then call it
"phoenix culprit" supports her simple claim that it's the fortunate fall;
by her reading it isn't a series of failures and refusals, but a gathering
of desire and then fulfillment. If she's right, Joyce is more sexist; if
I'm right, he's less, because he is emphasizing the mistake of domination.
But I think the main thing my reading has got going for it is the overall
tone of loss as well as gain in the book--it is about how sad it is that
things are the way they are, as well as about how funny and ok it is that
they are.

Solomon says that her taking the jiminies is eloping with a younger man
like Grania with Dermot, but that she finally ends up with the older one,
with Finn: seems to me, again, that it's basically the mother relating to
the sons in such a way as to substitute for the relation the father is
refusing (and in the process changing the sons, that tension causing them
to be brought into the world of difference and conflict, the Oedipal
world), and that if he could only see it he wouldn't be so resistant to
her. Solomon pictures them sort of like foreplay, I think, and I see it as
a continuing alternative: what the river runs between, this different
possibility from the way the male just dumps and is satisfied. So I think
it echoes the ongoing family tension, mother bonding with the child because
the father is macho and rejective, but assenting finally because
overpowered and the children therefore stuck in difference, always being
under that shadow.

As sex was more like war than love in the Museyroom, and seemed to fail to
link the likeableness of lipoleums to the power of Willingdone, so it seems
more like shitting than fucking here, and seems to fail to link the
likeableness of jimminies to the overbearingness of the Jarl. Solomon
thinks Eve tempts Adam who falls, and it's sin but it's good, a fortunate
fall. No doubt, but I think part of its sinfulness is that the aggressive
and the sexual get mixed up, and it leads in the Museyroom to Shimar Shin
getting his own back, and here to Kersse and the Captain going at it in a
way which leaves things not in paradise (or indeed, out at sea) but out of
it and on a river of division of labor which has more to do with struggle
than with love.

23.16-24.02: As we come out of the Prankquean story, we see where we've
gotten (as when we came out of the Museyroom): Extremely poetic paragraph,
changing tone completely from the fabliaux sense before the PQ story, and
saying that what we've seen establishes the ongoing reality, $E and $A as
hill and rill, good for what they're good for (to climb, to jump over), but
not communicating: he tries to understand (in his klutzy way, sounding like
the Jarl) and she flows on and just has to laugh (more like jinnies than
Prankquean). We focus on $E not being able to hear as we saw that Mutt
couldn't. .25 he tries to catch her, and feels buffeted as by the 4 waves
that foretell the death of the king, and feels as if landlocked by Lough
Neagh (his 'neighbor mistress') where his offspring are petrified--but if
he feels bad, the 'moaning pipers' could tell him that if it weren't for
his "hold halibutt" or her "tiddywink of a windfall" (Tindall makes it but
for her "pudor puff"), i.e. their sexual parts (and the apple), we wouldn't
be here.

23.16-end, summary: After we have the establishment of the real relations
between the sexes (and generations), again we zero in even more on the
present, first with ALP and HCE lieing side by side, then with the efforts
by the 4, $X, after 24.15, to try to tell him to stay dead and not
resurrect--he wouldn't like it here, everybody's doing fine--though as they
tell of $I it excites him so they have to hold him down. And then they
transition through $S who also is disturbing reporting on $A, whose
consciousness then takes over as she thinks of $I, visualizes herself with
M in that role, and comes more and more to think of herself not being dead
and there being more to come, which by the last long paragraph amounts to
her thinking of the "sibsubstitute" (as he thinks of, or would think of,
$I), which is to say that the resurrection is always in terms of desire,
and desire ever new for the ever new avatars of the $/( and$I figures:
which is how the whole book is Tristan and Isolde. The new characters will
be the old.

24.03-15: Eulogy of his life, somewhat mixed: he worked but sweated his
crew and delivered us to weevils (but he's a bug, of course), and is "that
mighty liberator" like an Akkadian (and a Viking). Basically he "earned his
dread", that is, went into the grave, "till he thought of a better one",
grinning. And the better one would be sex again, when the phoenix rises (as
the oldsters prophesy)--though (94) it seems mostly to be saying that he
wouldlike to resurrect and maybe would, and will if prophecies are true..
And suddenly they they are: are you whining? where's the wine? the bride?
the bed? are you being cheerful I'm dead at this...wake? Wake up? WHISKEY
(and 'clear to the end' usque ad bacam). Did you think I was dead?

24.16-26.24: Bishop says the dead one, as in the Egyptian Book of the Dead,
in his sycamore coffin, hears the reading of the Book of the Dead by the
four mourners at the corners of the coffin: they pray against worms, that
he not perish in Amenti's lakes of boiling water, that he reach the blessed
kingdom. The mummified dead one wakes up, wonders what happened to his
scattered parts--this is the afterlife as the Egyptian imagined it, it's
Totumcalmum waking up (26.12). And likewise with the chapter's references
to the paleolithic and to barrows and menhirs; it's the giants of Vico
waking to history, as the unconscious mind of each of us wakes to the next
day.

At this point, with the fallen giant waking up, it seems to me the mourners
not only read the Book of the Dead to him but try to keep him dead because
he's inconvenient, and this is the joke of the last part, that you can no
more stop death from turning back to life than you can stop the natural
processes of things from turning sour and dying.

It's a pretty funny paragraph, with $X telling HCE not to come back to life
because of Tim Healey and the bad roads and weather and age and death, and
he'll like being under his sycamore and having his 7 articles and being
with Homer and Brian Boru and Onan (again masturbation theme: don't need
anybody else) and Genghis Khan the Guinness inn (khan in Arabic).

They go on to promise that they'll do the rituals for him, bring him honey
and goat's milk. HIs fame is spreading, in Scandinavia places named for
him, the menhirs speak of him [Bishop: 'if stones could speak, they'd say
"here lies..."'], they drink to him in Chapelizod in the Salmon House. And
admire the Wellington Monument, where the "palmsweat on high"
(masturbation?) is his mark--Irish toothpicks are all chips off that block!
They praise him for being a planter, Gunne, Gladstone, say peace to his
limbs, his penis (buddhoch), while Tuskar lighthouse looks out.

They talk of his accomplishments: warlord, high king, bung king, etc., how
he could fell an elm and raise a stone (ironic, that), and who could so
compass us as MacCool plus Maculla who planned the copper coinage? He's
Huck Finn himself, some can imitate, but you're the pale (English) eggnog
itself (Humpty, surely): we call him the General Buggaloffs (Buckley and
the General) since he went Viking in Arssia Manor (buggering). You had a
gamy cock, so let the pope stay away while your hair grows wheater besides
the Liffey in heaven (i.e. the Egyptian paradise). We salute you like
Buddha, Like an Egyptian god, head in heavens and feet in pig shit (mixed,
that), and "olala" (penis?) on $A's shore. With imagery from Huck Finn and
much from Book of the Dead, saying he's got all the best, they say "be not
unrested", and Totumcalmum (Tutankhamen) says with much ritual stay dead,
we've buried you with the church and the grammarians. So as sailors say,
"Howe!", steep wall/sleep well (it was a steep wall he fell off).

26.25-27.21: After the high language of mourning the fall, the tone
changes, appropriate to a new, lowered age, and $X report on how things
"appeal" the same (but they don't seem to be, because basically
resurrection is beginning), coughings/coffins in the sanctuary, influenza,
same slop in the shops, and 'meat took a drop' when Persse O'Reilly fell
though 'barley's up again'. Though "coal's short" there's plenty of
bog/turf/shit in the yard.

Then they report on $( and $/\, focussing on their lessons (cf II.2) where
they spell "hesitency" "hathatansy" and do "mudapplication"--i.e., learn to
be proper Irish traitors like Pigott, and grubbers in the mud of the mound
(cf. 111.34); says they don't peg smashers (Pegger Festy) at $E in his tomb
(he the masturbator again, Timmy the Tosser). And climaxes (27.01-2) with
suggesting him as Disraeli, RCs and Patricks--but climax not clear to me.

At any rate, the children are characterized: $/\ Kevin the dolt/doat, angel
and prude and postman around the diggings (where he'll be the one to find
and transport the letter, see 110.31ff): 27.8: "lieve his olde by his
ide"--"lieve" constrast with Jery's "last of his lavings", but surely "his
olde" is basically "Isolde", the point being that $/\ is such a prude that
just as if the sea were milk he wouldn't drink it you could leave the girl
by his side and he wouldn't touch her [a subject which has been discussed,
in the order of composition, in III.3]. $( Jerry the devil, knirps or
mannikin (does this make the mannikin pis of 17.02 $( ?), (who maybe is
more connected with Huck Finn than I realized), who is both Synge's Playboy
(who is also a sham) and a Black and Tan, makes ink from his own shit (cf
183.10), and writes "a blue streak" on his body or shirt (also will be
later, though remember I.7 drafted earlier than this)--does this relate to
the "blue blouse" of chapter 4? I don't see how, since I've always taken
that to be $/\'s color.

Then to Issy: Hetty Jane, the child of Mary, is the "House of Gold, Tower
of Ivory" one, $I.2 I think, because she's though "ivy", green, also Isolde
of Brittany with her white hands, and she'll be born, says Gordon 88, on
St. Lucy's Day, Felix Day, winter solstice: that it is future tense fits
Gordon's notion that she's the one conceived during the book, in II.4, so
the boys are live but she isn't; and Essie Shanahan, $I I think, Isolde of
Ireland with her red hair, who is however also Holy Mary like Hetty Jane.
She seems associated with wars, red riots and the religious wars (cf.
14.9), and it gets plainer that Joyce conceives Issy as source both of
solace and struggle, her two sides (fitting his rather sexist picture of
the boys as actors of different kinds and the girls as objects of different
kinds). Maybe it's ironic that he says if he were trying to put over Wood's
halfpence he'd put her lips on posters to do it (but also because of the
jam company), maybe he means it would distract Irishmen from being pissed
at the imposition (but why associate her with the English like that?). And
he finishes saying it would "dilate" $E to see her dance.

27.22-30: so this stirs him up so much they have to hold him down and
remind him he's "decent"! And this is a reason, surely, people talk about
HCE lusting after Issy. He seems to be resurrecting (spooring or spawning),
Onan is back in it again in "O'Flagonan", they quick say an R.I.P. over him
in Russian (reminding us he's the General), and like an incantation say "he
slumbers" (though it's also 'his loins'), may he still be where he's
swaddled by mist and where there's no harm.

27.32-28.34: So after this interlude $X returns to the catalog of the
characters as they continue to tell $E why he shouldn't rise. They're
watching $K and $S: they're saying they won't let Kate bring him back by
rebuilding the wall he fell off of, and telling him not to resurrect like
the snake shedding its skin. It now seems mostly the servant $S talking,
saying he saw "your missus" in the hall like Guinevere, queen of Eire, and
that she's fine, as grass widow (though Cheng suggests it's about adultery,
as Henry VIII gave up a Katherine (Kate) for an Ann (ALP). Anyway, Issy
waits [except '94 I'm not sure it isn't still ALP, or at least a
combination of both of them ], with her cat and decoying birds for it, and
sewing like the tailor's daughter. Sense of expectation, and of all these
reasons for him to think things are ok and he can stay dead being also
incentives for him to come back. And I think the $X essentially, much as in
II.4 I guess, start actually picturing the past with $A and seeing it as a
potential thing again with $I: it becomes their sense of $A dreaming in her
chair of him (this is what they're having him visualize), and reading the
paper which she takes mostly in terms of their story. Fashion, politics, a
Chinese pidgin story which seems to be a TDH business of boys against each
other or him, if he's "Harry chap". And she reads the serial, the
'nonvirgin's wife' or Norwegian's wife or life (hers). It ends "Zee End",
sea end (like the book), tea stain (like the letter). She seems to end this
with a reflection on how she's still attractive, with her own brown hair
and no 'switches' at least in the evening--like Anastasia she's not dead.
And she too winds up thus, like $X, saying he's gone--it's "Finn no
more"--i.e., don't come back, though also with the instruction to herself,
"sin no more" (maybe to him too).

28.35-29.36 she fantasizes the new ram (climax of all the goats) and it
turns out to be just like the old one, though a "sib" still a version of
$E: e.g., 29.06: "[aloose!]": surely surely when the new hero lets his
deadlop fly to leeward, especially since he's Ardiloun, Arthur Guinness, it
is Arthur Wellesley letting his dollop fly and crying "Arthiz too loose!"
at 9.26. But even more explicitly, it's Humphrey with the hump and sunken
shoulders, a bug (butterfly to her firefly), and with the two twin bugs and
a flea virgin. And he repeats the sins: doing what the forefathers (or
fourfooters) saw (i.e., messing with the soldiers) or seeing what the
stoolpigeons know (i.e., looking at the girls), and "that'll do now" (I'm
not quite sure who's talking) for the fairyhees (homosexuals) and
frailyshees (prostitute girls), though the winds and stars will let it be
known forever. After all, the world's full of whites, reds, and pinks. So
however it was (i.e., a nod to previous cycles), now it is sure what the
Torah and the way of writing it both (i.e., the point of this chapter) say,
that HCE is the one: Either ALP or the narrator firmly says "Finn no more"
at the end, because there's no room for him, there's another him "on the
premises", a "rody ram lad" (cf. 112.22), but as the paragraph goes on this
"sibsubstitute" who seems to be a next generation (befitting the suggestion
that it is simply a new erection) comes clearer and clearer actually to be
HCE himself, with the same family of bugs. So the climax is that "however
'twas 'tis" now (as always) he himself "and no other he" is "ultimendly
respunchable" for all the hubbub. In effect, then, after the bulk of the
chapter showing how process winds up in stasis, dynamic leads to
separation, the kicker is that of course that stasis contains the energy to
make process and dynamic inevitable again, i.e., rise is as inevitable as
fall. They can say "Finn no more" all they want to, but it is and always
will be Finn every time.