Finnegans

James Joyce FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD Edited by Dirce Waltrick do Amarante



FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD



FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD James Joyce Edited by Dirce Waltrick do Amarante 2021

Copyright © 2021 Dirce Waltrick do Amarante Copyright © Editora Iluminuras Ltda. Designed by Paulo Roberto da Silva Cover and back cover: Puró, 2020 By Sérgio Medeiros Proofreader Hans Berggren Ficha catalográfica J89f Joyce, James, 1882-1941 Finnegans Wake by a Thread [electronic resource] / James Joyce ; edited by Dirce Waltrick do Amarante, 1. ed. — São Paulo : Iluminuras, 2021. 98 p. : il. 15,5 x 20 cm ISBN 978-65-5519-077-9 1. Joyce, James, 1882-1941 — Crítica e interpretação. 2. Lite- ratura Inglesa — História e crítica. 3. Literatura irlandesa. 4. Tradução e Interpretação. I. Título. CDU: 820.09 Catalogação na publicação por: Onélia Silva Guimarães CRB-14/071 2021 EDITORA ILUMINURAS LTDA. Rua inácio Pereira da Rocha, 389 — 054432-011 — São Paulo — SP — Brasil Tel./Fax: 55 11 3031-6161 [email protected] www.iluminuras.com.br

CONTENTS FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD 7 I 11 II 17 III 23 IV 27 V 32 VI 37 VII 44 VIII 48 IX 53 X 59 XI 64 XII 69 XIII 73 XIV 77 XV 81 XVI 86 XVII 90



FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD Dirce Waltrick do Amarante The letters grew barbs and rams’ horns. I watched them separate, each from the other, and jiggle up and down in a silly way. Then they associated themselves in fantastic, untranslatable shapes, like Arabic or Chinese. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar For two decades, ever since I began my research for my master’s thesis at the Federal University of Santa Catarina, Brazil, I have been reading and re-reading Finnegans Wake trying to cross its “wastobe land” (FW 62.11). I regard Finnegans Wake as a territory with a highly complex geography and imagine its reader as a wanderer who must keep moving to encounter the menhirs thar will guide and help him on his journey through the book. Thus, I see my reading experience as a journey and, to speak about it, I will base my reading upon the Italian architect and scholar Francesco Careri’s concept of walkscapes.1 My own work in cutting through Finnegans Wake was preceded by many others, works by artists who have made this singular journey 1 See Francesco Careri. Walkscapes: o caminhar como prática estética (São Paulo: Editorial G. Gili, 2013)

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD8 not only by reading, but also by translating and adapting Finnegans // Wake, among them the American artist John Cage, who created many works based on Finnegans Wake, and the Portuguese poet Ana Hatherly, who wrote 23 variations/poems over phrases, fragments and words from the Wake, published in the book Joyciana: Anaviva Plurilida. Influenced and inspired by the experiences mentioned above, and also by the theory of Francesco Careri, who affirms that spaces often present a nature that still has to be understood and filled with meanings, in 2014, almost twenty years after my first reading of Finnegans Wake, I returned to my walks through the book. In search for those “meanings,” many times I got lost in the reading. I always remembered Walter Benjamin, who said that to know how to orient oneself in a city doesn’t mean a lot. To get lost in a city, though, like someone gets lost in a forest, requires instruction,2 a rule that I found in the vast bibliography on the Joycean poem in prose. But, according to Careri, to get lost is also terrifying, because between us and the space there exists not only a a controlling relation to the domain, but also the possibility of that space dominating us. Hence the need to create and recreate reference points in that space. Careri affirms that if mankind during a period may have used the trails that the seasonal migrations of animals opened through the vegetation, it is probable that they themselves in a certain epoch started to open new trails. As a reader of Finnegans Wake, I used the trails left by other scholars and translators; they were my guides, experts who knew how to move through the twilight zone and work under contract, like the “coyotes” who guide illegal immigrants across the frontiers.3 2 Walter Benjamin. Rua de mão única: obras escolhidas. Volume II. São Paulo: Editora Brasiliense, 2000, p. 73 (my translation). 3 CARERI, Francesco. Op. Cit., p.09.

After several readings I began to perceive some recognizable 9 signs of ever-increasing stability in the Joycean landscape. This way // the multidimensional space of the book gradually transformed itself into a more ordered space with some reference points, menhirs JAMES JOYCE constructed by Joyce himself, and others imagined or constructed by myself. The common characteristic of these menhirs is that their presence, as Careri says, calls upon the attention of the wayfarer, communicating the presence of singular facts and giving him information about the surrounding terrains. I was guided by the names that indicate the members of the Earwicker family and by the names of those in dialogue with them. My other menhirs were the natural elements — river, mountain, cloud — since each of these elements represents one of the Earwickers: Anna Livia, HCE and Issy, respectively.Then I decided to cut through the book and create a new path by choosing fragments from all the chapters that, united, would form a narrative thread, one of the many that exist in Finnegans Wake. The 628 pages of the original book were condensed into approximately 70 pages, a very difficult task in terms of what to cut out and what to highlight, not to mention that such cutting is, in a way, incompatible with Joyce’s propensity to work with excess. As a matter of fact, Anthony Burgess, who published a condensed version of the book in 1967 by reducing it to a third of its original size, also found the process of cutting it down painful and hard.4 I’d like to add that because of the cut I made through the Joycean text, I sometimes had to change the punctuation of the original text, adding a period or a comma to a phrase where Joyce didn’t. Each chapter is preceeded by a summary of what the lines tell. 4 See Anthony Burges, A Shorter Finnegans Wake (New York: Viking Press, 1967).

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD10 Works cited // AMARANTE, Dirce. Para ler Finnegans Wake de James Joyce. São Paulo: Iluminuras: 2009. BENJAMIN, Walter. Rua de mão única: obras escolhidas. Volume II. Translated by Rubens Rodrigues Torres Filho and José Carlos Martins Barbosa. São Paulo: Editora Brasiliense, 2000. BURGESS, Anthony. A Shorter Finnegans Wake. New York: Viking Press, 1967. CAMPOS, Augusto de and CAMPOS, Haroldo de. Panaroma do Finnegans Wake. São Paulo: Perspectiva, 2001, p. 21. CARERI, Francesco. Walkscapes: o caminhar como prática estética. Translated by Frederico Bonaldo. São Paulo: Editorial G. Gili, 2013. JOYCE, James. Finnegans Wake (por um fio). Org. and Trans.: Dirce Waltrick do Amarante. São Paulo. Iluminuras: 2018.

I 11 JAMES JOYCE // *** After Adam and Eve (or after passing the church o Adam and Eve, in Dublin, the river Liffey flows through other scenes of the city), the river flows and passes the Irland, back to Howth Castle and environs. Tristran, one metamorphosis among several of HCE, Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker, navigates the seas. Jhem or Shen iniciates a new era with an explosion of malt. Suddenly they are on Wall Street. Finnegan, an Irishman, another metamorphosis of HCE, falls from the stairs and is transformed into a mountain in Dublin, known as the giant Finn MacCool. Finnegan also falls in love with Anna Livia, or Isolde. He begins to call himself Haroun Childeric Eggeberth, a man born out of liquor. HCE goes to serve in the army, but his reprehensible sexual behaviour destroys him, he dies and everybody goes to his wake that turns into a feast. They beg his loved one to wake him up. Everybody is invited to visit the mausoleum of Wellington (another metamorphosis of the protagonist). A sound is heard but you can’t identify the language. Jutt and Mutt (Shaun and Shem, HCE’s sons) converse, then we hear a story of obscene love between a queen and Jarl van Hoother (Anna Livia and HCE). His fame as an incestuous person spreads. *** riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD12 Sir Tristram, violer d’amores, fr’over the short sea, had // passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war. Rot a peck of pa’s malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface. The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner- ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since devlinsfirst loved livvy. [3] What chance cuddleys,what cashels airedand ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetabsolvers! What true feeling for their’s hayair with what strawng voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen’s maurer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofarback for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers or Helviticus committed deuteronomy. Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multi- plicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor wheretwin ‘twas born. [4]

Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh 13 of Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant, // argent, a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman JAMES JOYCE handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to be fined again! (There extand by now one thousand and one stories, all told, of the same). [5] Dimb! He stottered from the latter. Damb! he was dud. Dumb! Mastabatoom, mastabadtomm, when a mon merries his lute is all long. For whole the world to see. Shize? I should shee! Macool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie? of a trying thirstay mournin? Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain’s chrissormiss wake, all the hoolivans of the nation, prostrated in their consternation and their duodisimally profusive plethora of ululation. There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherersand raiders and cinemen too. And the all gianed in with the shoutmost shoviality. And all the way (a horn!) from fiord to fjell his baywinds’ oboboes shall wail him [6] rockbound (hoahoahoah!) in swimswamswum and all the livvylong night, the delldale dalppling night, the night of bluerybells, her flittaflute in tricky trochees (O carina! O carina!) wake him. [7]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD14 This the way to the museyroom. Mind your hats goan in! Now // yiz are in the Willingdone Museyroom [8] What a warm time we were in there but how keling is here the airabouts! [10] O, as he lays dormont from the macroborg of Holdhard to the microbirg of Pied de Poudre. Behove this [12] sound of Irish sense. Really? Here English might be seen. Royally? One sovereign punned to petery pence. Regally? The silence speaks the scene. Fake! So This Is Dyoublong? Hush! Caution! Echoland! [13] Lets we overstep his fire defences and these kraals of slitsucked marrogbones. (Cave!) He can prapsposterus the pillory way to Hirculos pillar. Come on, fool porterfull, hosiered women blown monk sewer? Scuse us, chorley guy! You tollerday donsk? N. You tolkatiff scowegian? Nn. You spigotty anglease? Nnn. You phonio saxo? Nnnn. Clear all so! [16]

Jute. Whysht? 15 Mutt. The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay. // Jute. Howe? Mutt. Here is viceking’s graab. JAMES JOYCE Jute. Hwaad! Mutt. Ore you astoneaged, jute you? Jute. Oye am thonthorstrok, thing mud. It is the same told of all. Many. Miscegenations on misce- genations. Tieckle. They lived und laughed ant loved end left. Forsin. [18] Lissom! lissom! I am doing it. Hark, the corne entreats! And the larpnotes prittle. It was of a night, late, lang time agone, in an auldstane eld, when Adam was delvin and his madameen spinning watersilts, when mulk mountynotty man was everybully and the first leal ribberrobber that ever had her ainway everybuddy to his lovesaking eyes and everybilly lived alove with everybiddy else, and Jarl van Hoother had his burnt head high up in his lamphouse, laying cold hands on himself. And the prankquean pulled a rosy one and made her wit foreninst the dour. [21] And the prankquean picked a blank and lit out and the valleys lay twinkling. And she made her wittest in front of the arkway of trihump, asking: Mark the Tris, why do I am alook alike three poss of porter pease? But that was how the skirtmishes endupped. For like the campbells acoming with a fork lance of lightning, Jarl von Hoother Boanerges himself, the old terror of the dames, came hip hop handihap out through the pikeopened arkway of his three shuttoned castles [22]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD16 Now be aisy, good Mr Finnimore, sir. And take your laysurelike // a god on pension and don’t be walking abroad. [24] Your fame is spreading like Basilico’s ointment since the Fintan Lalors piped you overborder and there’s whole households beyond the Bothnians and they calling names after you. There was never a warlord in Great Erinnes and Brettland, no, nor in all Pike County like you, they say. No, nor a king nor an ardking, bung king, sung king or hung king. [25] And aither he cursed and recursed and was everseen doing what your fourfootlers saw, batin the bulkihood he bloats about when innebbiated, our old offender was humile, commune and ensectuous from his nature. [29]

II 17 JAMES JOYCE // *** The origin of the name Harold or Humphrey Chimpden and his ancestors is explored. The initials HCE appear in all the reported facts. His life is shown on a stage. Some people say that he suffered from a repulsive illness and that he was a seducer. Others defend him, claiming it is all calumny and say he was a good man and that all he did, his obscene behaviour, was because of his drinking. He defends himself, maintaining that it’s all fiction. HCE finds protection beside Anna Livia, who will put an end to all the gossip against him. The many versions of his behaviour turn into a song. Probably they are in a bar when HCE enters and a glass falls. “The ballad of Persse O’Reilly” begins to be sung. *** Now (to forebare for ever solittle of Iris Trees and Lili O’Rangans), concerning the genesis of Harold or Humphrey Chimpden’s occupational agnomen (we are back in the presurnames prodromarith period, of course just when enos chalked halltraps) and discarding once for all those theories from older sources which would link him back with such pivotal ancestors as the Glues, the Gravys, the Northeasts, the Ankers and the Earwickers of Sidlesham in the Hundred of Manhood or proclaim him offsprout of vikings. We are told how in the beginning it came to pass that like cabbaging Cincinnatus the grand old gardener was saving daylight under his

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD18 redwoodtree one sultry sabbath afternoon, Hag Chivychas Eve, in // prefall paradise peace by following his plough for rootles in the rere garden of mobhouse, ye olde marine hotel, when royalty was announced by runner to have been pleased to have halted itself on the highroad along which a leisureloving dogfox had cast followed, also at walking pace, by a lady pack of cocker spaniels. [30] The great fact emerges that after that historic date all holographs so far exhumed initialled by Haromphrey bear the sigla H.C.E. and while he was only and long and always good Dook Umphrey for the hungerlean spalpeens of Lucalizod and Chimbers to his cronies it was equally certainly a pleasant turn of the populace which gave him as sense of those normative letters the nickname Here Comes Everybody. [32] The piece was this: look at the lamps. The cast was thus: see under the clock. Ladies circle: cloaks may be left. Pit, prommer and parterre, standing room only. Habituels conspicuously emergent. A baser meaning has been read into these characters the literal sense of which decency can safely scarcely hint. It has been blurtingly bruited by certain wisecrackers (the stinks of Mohorat are in the nightplots of the morning), that he suffered from a vile disease. Athma, unmanner them! To anyone who knew and loved the hristlikeness of the big cleanminded giant H. C. Earwicker throughout his excellency long vicefreegal existence the mere suggestion of him as a lustsleuth nosing for trouble in a boobytrap rings particularly preposterous. [32]

Slander, let it lie its flattest, has never been able to convict 19 our good and great and no ordinary Southron Earwicker, that // homogenius man, as a pious author called him, of any graver impropriety than that, advanced by some woodwards or regarders, JAMES JOYCE who did not dare deny, the shomers, that they had, chin Ted, chin Tam, chinchin Taffyd, that day consumed their soul of the corn, of having behaved with ongentilmensky immodus opposite a pair of dainty maidservants in the swoolth of the rushy hollow whither, or so the two gown and pinners pleaded, dame nature in all innocency had spontaneously and about the same hour of the eventide sent them both but whose published combinations of silkinlaine testimonies are, where not dubiously pure, visibly divergent, as wapt from wept, on minor points touching the intimate nature of this, a first offence in vert or venison which was admittedly an incautious but, at its wildest, a partial exposure with such attenuating circumstances (garthen gaddeth greenhwere sokeman brideth girling) as an abnormal Saint Swithin’s summer and, (Jesses Rosasharon!) a ripe occasion to provoke it. [34] He presented [35] that whereas the hakusay accusation againstm had been made, what was known in high quarters as was stood stated in Morganspost, by a creature in youman form who was quite beneath parr and several degrees lower than yore triplehydrad snake. I am woowoo willing to take my stand, sir, upon the monument, that sign of our ruru redemption, any hygienic day to this hour and to make my hoath to my sinnfinners, even if I get life for it, upon the Open Bible and before the Great Taskmaster’s (I lift my hat!) and in the presence of the Deity

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD20 Itself andwell of Bishop and Mrs Michan of High Church of England // as of all such of said my immediate withdwellers and of every living sohole in every corner wheresoever of this globe in general which useth of my British to my backbone tongue and commutative justice that there is not one tittle of truth, allow me to tell you, in that purest of fibfib fabrications. [36] Trusting, between cuppled lips and annie lawrie promises (mighshe never have Esnekerry pudden come Hunanov for her pecklapitschens!) that the gossiple so delivered in his epistolear, buried teatoastally in their Irish stew would go no further than his jesuit’s cloth, yet (in vinars venitas! volatiles valetotum!) it was this overspoiled priest Mr Browne, disguised as a vincentian, who, when seized of the facts, was overheard, in his secondary personality as a Nolan. [38] Soed lavender or foyneboyne salmon alive, with their priggish mouths all open for the larger appraisiation of this longawaited Messiagh of roaratorios. The Old Sots’ Hole in the parish of Saint Cecily within the liberty of Ceolmore not a thousand or one national leagues, that was, by Griffith’s valuation, from the site of the statue of Primewer Glasstone setting a match to the march of a maker. [41] Arrah, leave it to Hosty, frosty Hosty, leave it to Hosty for he’s the mann to rhyme the rann, the rann, the rann, the king of all ranns. Have you here? (Some ha) Have we where? (Some hant) Have you hered? (Others do) Have we whered (Others dont) It’s

cumming, it’s brumming! The clip, the clop! (All cla) Glass crash. The 21 (klikkaklakkaklaskaklopatzklatschabattacreppycrottygraddaghsem // mihsammihnouithappluddyappladdypkonpkot!). JAMES JOYCE {Ardite, arditi! Music cue. [44] Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty How he fell with a roll and a rumble And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple By the butt of the Magazine Wall, (Chorus) Of the Magazine Wall, Hump, helmet and all?

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD22 He was one time our King of the Castle // Now he’s kicked about like a rotten old parsnip. And from Green street he’ll be sent by order of His Worship To the penal jail of Mountjoy (Chorus) To the jail of Mountjoy! Jail him and joy. [45] It was during some fresh water garden pumping Or, according to the Nursing Mirror, while admiring the monkeys That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey Made bold a maid to woo (Chorus) Woohoo, what’ll she doo! The general lost her maidenloo! [46] And not all the king’s men nor his horses Will resurrect his corpus For there’s no true spell in Connacht or hell (bis) That’s able to raise a Cain. [47]

III 23 JAMES JOYCE // *** The sins of HCE, who is presented as a tenor and also as a poet, are revealed. He is condemned and taken to prison. The press doesn’t know what to say about the protagonist, nobody knows where he is or whether he is alive or dead. The facts of his life are discussed again and it is believed that he deserves the maximum penalty. HCE is compared to Christ and the Pharaohs. His ressurrection is awaited. His name is mixed up with lots of others. The words don’t reach HCE anymore. It rains. Everybody is asleep. *** Chest Cee! ‘Sdense! Corpo di barragio! you spoof of visibility in a freakfog, of mixed sex cases among goats, hill cat and plain mousey, Bigamy Bob and his old Shanvocht! Of the persins sin this Eyrawyggla saga (which, thorough readable to int from and, is from tubb to buttom all falsetissues, antilibellous and nonactionable and this applies to its whole wholume) of poor Osti-Frosti, described as quite a musical genius in a small way and the owner of an exceedingly niced ear, with tenorist voice to match, not alone, but a very major poet of the poorly meritary order (he began Tuonisonian but worked his passage up as far as the we-all-hang-together Animandovites) no one end is known. If they [48]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD24 whistled him before he had curtains up they are whistling him still // after his curtain’s doom’s doom. Poor old dear Paul Horan, to satisfy his literary as well as his criminal aspirations, at the suggestion thrown out by the doomster in loquacity lunacy, so says the Dublin Intelligence, was thrown into a Ridley’s for inmates in the northern counties. Under the name of Orani he may have been the utility man of the troupe capable of sustaining long parts at short notice. He was. Sordid Sam, a dour decent deblancer. [49] Television kills telephony in brothers’ broil. Our eyes demand their turn. Let them be seen! And wolfbone balefires blaze the trailmost if only that Mary Nothing may burst her bibby buckshee. The solence of that stilling! [52] And there oftafter, jauntyjogging, on an Irish visavis, insteadily with shoulder to shoulder Jehu will tell to Christianier, saint to sage, the humphriad of that fall and rise while daisy winks at her pinker sister among the tussocks and the copoll between the shafts mocks the couple on the car. [53] Who was he to whom? (O’Breen’s not his name nor the brown one his maid.) Whose are the placewheres? Kiwasti, kisker, kither, kitnabudja? Tal the tem of the tumulum. [56] Thus the unfacts, did we possess them, are too imprecisely few to warrant our certitude, the evidencegivers by legpoll too

untrustworthily irreperible where his adjugers are semmingly freak 25 threes but his judicandees plainly minus twos. // [57] JAMES JOYCE His Thing Mod have undone him: and his madthing has done him man. His beneficiaries are legion in the part he created: they number up his years. Greatwheel Dunlop was the name was on him: behung, all we are his bisaacles. Oho, oho, Mester Begge, you’re about to be bagged in the bog again. Bugge. Guards were walking, in (pardonnez-leur, je vous en prie, eh?) Montgomery Street. One voiced an opinion in which on either wide (pardonnez!), nodding, all the Finner Camps concurred (je vous en prie, eh?). It was the first woman, they said, souped him, that fatal wellesday, Lili Coninghams, by suggesting him they go in a field. [58] Nevewtheless accowding to my considewed attitudes fow this act he should pay the full penalty, pending puwsuance, as pew Subsec. 32, section 11, of the C. L. A. act 1885, anything in this act to the contwawy notwithstanding. [61] The wastobe land, a lottuse land, a luctuous land, Emeraldilluim, the peasant pastured, in which by the fourth commandment with promise his days apostolic were to be long by the abundant mercy of Him Which Thundereth From On High, murmured, would rise against him. All saints of incorruption of an holy nation, the common or ere-in-garden castaway, in red resurrection to condemn so they might convince him, first onths, Humpheres Cheops Exarchas, of their proper sins. [62]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD26 A long list (now feared in part lost) to be kept on file of all // abusive names he was called (we have been compelled for the rejoicement of foinne loidies ind the humours of Milltown etcetera by Josephine Brewster in the collision known as Contrastations with Inkermann and so on and sononward, lacies in loo water, flee, celestials, one clean turv): Firstnighter, Informer, Old Fruit, Yellow Whigger, Wheatears, Goldy Geit, Bogside Beauty, Yass We’ve Had His Badannas, York’s Porker, Funnyface, At Baggotty’s Bend He Bumped, Grease with the Butter, Opendoor Ospices, Cainandabler, Ireland’s Eighth Wonderful Wonder. [71] That more than considerably unpleasant onths before he rang off drunkishly pegged a few glatt stones, all of a size, by way of final mocks for his grapes, at the wicket in support of his words that he was not guilphy but, after he had so slaunga onthsm, reconnoitring through his semisubconscious the seriousness of what he might have done had he really polished off his terrible intentions. [72] Liverpoor? Sot a bit of it! His braynes coolt parritch, his pelt nassy, his heart’s adrone, his bluidstreams acrawl, his puff but a piff, his onthsmbl extremely so: Fengless, Pawmbroke, Chilblaimend and Baldowl. Humph is in his doge. Words weigh no no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping. Drain. Sdops. [74]

IV 27 JAMES JOYCE // *** HCE is dead and buried with a pompous funeral. The priest preaches in an incomprehensible dialect, the talk is in a foreign language. The judging of HCE proceeds, a letter in his favour appears but is ripped to pieces and hidden by a hen., It is believed that with the letter peace could reign again. But they continue talking about HCE, now regarded as a fox fleeing his country. His death is compared to that of Tutankhamon. There is only one person waiting for him, Anna Livia. As a nomad, HCE finds himself at last by the river Jordan and is once again compared to Christ.. *** As the lion in our teargarten remembers the nenuphars of his Nile, the besieged bedreamt him stil and solely of those lililiths undeveiled which had undone him, gone for age, and knew not the watchful treachers at his wake, and theirs to stay. Fooi, fooi, chamermissies! Zeepyzoepy, larcenlads! Zijnzijn Zijnzijn! It may be, we moest ons hasten selves te onthsm it, that he reglimmed? Presaw? The fields of heat and yields of wheat where corngold Ysit? Shamed and shone. (Twillby! Twillby!) he conscious of enemies, a kingbilly whitehorsed in a Finglas mill, prayed, as he sat on anxious seat during that three and a hellof hours’ agony of silence, ex profundis malorum. [75]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD28 While his body still persisted, their present of a protem grave // in Moyelta of the best Lough Neagh pattern, then as much in demand among misonesans as the Isle of Man today among limniphobes. Best. This wastohavebeen underground heaven, or mole’s paradise which was probably also an inversion of a phallopharos. [76] Such as the Breeders’ Union, the Guild of Merchants of the Staple et, a.u.c. to present unto him with funebral pomp, over and above that a stone slab with the usual Mac Pelah address of onthsmbl, a very fairworded instance of falsemeaning adamelegy: We have done ours gohellt with you, Heer Herewhippit, overgiven it, skidoo! But t’house and allaboardshoops! Show coffins, winding sheets, goodbuy bierchepes, cinerary urns, liealoud blasses, snuffchests, poteentubbs, lacrimal vases, hoodendoses, any kind of inhumationary bric au brac for the adornment of his glasstone honophreum. [77] Ladies did not disdain those pagan ironed times of the first city (called after the ugliest Danadune) when a frond was a friend inneed to carry, as earwigs do their dead, their soil to the earthball where indeeth we shall calm decline, our legacy unknown. [79] For hear Allhighest sprack for krischnians as for onthsmb fidies and his nuptial eagles sharped their beaks of prey: and every morphyl man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this terrine: as it was let it be, says he! Lave that bloody stone as it is! [80]

This is nat language at any sinse of the world and one might as 29 fairly go and kish his sprogues as fail to certify whether the wartrophy // eluded at some lives earlier was that somethink like a jug. Goalball I’ve struck this daylit dielate night of nights, by golly! Hillelulia, JAMES JOYCE killelulia, allenalaw, and, having ratified before the god of the day their torgantruce which belittlers have schmallkalled the onthsm to cognac, turning his fez menialstrait in the [83] direction of Moscas. [84] Use the tongue mor! Give lip less! But it oozed out in Deadman’s Dark Scenery Court through crossexanimation of the casehardened testis that when and where that knife of knifes the treepartied ambush was laid. [87] But a new complexion was put upon the matter when to the perplexedly uncondemnatory bench (whereon punic judgeship strove with penal law) the senior [90] king of all, Pegger Festy, as soon as the outer layer of stucckomuck had been removed at the request of a few live jurors, declared in a loudburst of poesy, through his Brythonic interpreter on his oath, mhuith peisth mhuise as fearra bheura muirre hriosmas.Why he left Dublin, that, amreeta beaker coddling doom, as an Inishman was as good as any cantonnatal? [91]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD30 The letter! The litter! // [93] Wind broke it. Wave bore it. Reed wrote of it. Syce ran with it. Hand tore it and wild went war. Hen trieved it and plight pledged peace. It was folded with cunning, sealed with crime, uptied by a harlot, undone by a child. And that was how framm Sin fromm Son, acity arose, finfin funfun, a sitting arrows. Now tell me, tell me, tell me then! What was it? A .......... ! ? ..........O! So there you are now there they were, when all was over again, the four with them, setting around upin their judges’ chambers, in the muniment room. [94] Assembly men murmured. Reynard is slow! [97] He had fled again (open shunshema!) this country of exile, sloughed off sidleshomed via the subterranean shored with bedboards, stowed away and ankered in a dutch bottom tunk. [98] Shall their hope then be silent or Macfarlane lack of lamentation? He lay under leagues of it in deep Bartholoman’s Deep. [100]

And let him rest, thou onthsm, and take no gravespoil from 31 him! Neither mar his mound! The bane of Tut is on it. Ware! But // there’s a little lady waiting and her name is A.L.P. And you’ll agree. She must be she. JAMES JOYCE [102] Nomad may roam with Nabuch but let onths laugh at Jordan! For we, we have taken our sheet upon her stones where we have hanged our hearts in her trees; and we list, as she bibs us, by the waters of babalong. [103]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD32 V // *** Anna Livia writes a letter about her husband, HCE. A fragment of this letter is read, in which her husband is seen as a good man, surpassing the expectations of his companion, but there are conspirators who want to incriminate him. The letter is delivered to a legislator, who is asked to have the patience to read it and reveal its content. Suddenly the letter is once again in the possession of a hen that sits down on top of it. HCE feels lost. They pray for the hen to guide them. There are doubts about the origin of the letter and who actually signed it. The letter is found in a lamentable state. Nothing is discovered about HCE. The original document spoke of a piquant fact, but it lacks punctuation and is full of holes. It looks like it was written by Shem, known as a writer but also as an usurpator of letters. *** In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven! Her untitled mamafesta onthsmble the Mosthighest has gone by many names at disjointed times... (some such nonoun as Husband or husboat or hosebound is probably understood for we have also the plutherple-thoric My Hoonsbood Hansbaad’s a Journey to Porthergill gone and He Never Has the Hour). [104]

I Ask You to Believe I was his Mistress, He Can Explain. Fathe 33 He’s Sukceded to My Esperations, Thee Steps Forward, Two Stops // Back, My Skin Appeals to Three Senses and My Curly Lips Demand Columbkisses. JAMES JOYCE [105] He’s Hue to Me Cry, I’m the Stitch in his Baskside You’d be Nought Without Mom, To Keep the Huskies off the Hustings and Picture Pets from Lifting Shops, Norsker Torsker Find the Poddle, He Perssed Me Here with the Ardour of a Tonnoburkes. [106] The Snake (Nuggets!) by a Woman of the World who only can Tell Naked Truths about a Dear Man and all his Conspirators how they all Tried to Fall him Putting it all around Lucalizod about Privates Earwicker and a Pair of Sloppy Sluts plainly Showing all the Unmentionability falsely Accusing about the Raincoats. The proteiform graph itself is a polyhedron of scripture. There was a time when naif alphabetters would have written it down the tracing of a purely deliquescent recidivist, possibly ambidextrous, snubnosed probably and presenting a strangely profound rainbowl in his (or her) occiput. Say, baroun lousadoor, who in hallhagal wrote the durn thing [107] anyhow? Now, patience; and remember patience is the great thing, and above all things else we must avoid anything like being or becoming out of patience. (Hear! Calls! Everywhair!)... then as to this radiooscillating epiepistle to which we must ceaselessly return

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD34 on any page that its author was always constitutionally incapable of // misappropriating the spoken words of others. [108] Yet to concentrate solely on the literal sense or even the psychological content of any document to the sore neglect of the enveloping facts themselves circumstantiating it is just as hurtful to sound sense (and let it be added to the truest taste). Who in his heart doubts either that the facts of feminine clothiering are there all the time or that the feminine fiction, stranger than the facts, is there also at the same time, only a little to the rere? [109] Ahahn! About that original hen. [110] The bird in the case was Belinda of the Dorans, a more thanquinquegintarian (Terziis prize with Serni medal, Cheepalizzy’s Hane Exposition) and what she was scratching at the hour of klokking twelve looked for all this zogzag world like a goodishsized sheet of letterpaper originating by transhipt from Boston (Mass.). Well, this freely is what must have occurred to our missive unfilthed from the boucher by the sagacity of a lookmelittle likemelong hen. [111] You is feeling like you was lost in the bush, boy? You says: It is a puling sample jungle of woods. You most shouts out: Bethicket me for a stump of a beech if I have the poultriest notions what the farest he all means. Gee up, girly! Lead, kindly fowl!

But. It is not a hear or say of some anomorous letter, signed 35 Toga Girilis, (teasy dear). We have a cop of her fist right against our // nosibos. JAMES JOYCE [112] The teatimestained terminal (say not the tag, mummer, or our show’s a failure!) is a cosy little brown study all to oneself and, whether it be thumbprint, mademark or just a poor trait of the artless, its importance in establishing the identities in the writer complexus (for if the hand was one, the minds of active and agitated were more than so) will be best appreciated by never forgetting that both before and after the battle of the Boyne it was a habit not to sign letters. [114] We have even a written on with dried ink scrap of paper to show for ourselves, tare it or leaf it, (and we are lufted to ourselves as the soulfisher when he led the cat out of the bout) after all that we lost and plundered of it even to the hidmost coignings of the [118] earth and all it has gone through and by all means, after a good ground kiss to Terracussa. [119] The original document was in what is known as Hanno O’Nonhanno’s unbrookable script, that is to say, it showed no signs of punctuation of any sort. Yet on holding the verso against a lit rush this new book of Morses responded most remarkably to the silente query of our world’s oldest light and its recto let out the piquant [123]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD36 fact that it was but pierced butnot punctured (in the university sense // of the term) by numerous stabs and foliated gashes made by a pronged instrument. These paper wounds, four in type, were gradually and correctly understood to mean stop, please stop, do please stop, and O do please stop respectively, and following up their one true clue. [124] To all’s much relief one’s half hypothesis of that jabberjaw ape amok the showering jestnuts of Bruisanose was hotly dropped and his room taken up by that odious and still today insufficiently malestimated notesnatcher (kak, pfooi, bosh and fiety, much earny, Gus, poteen? Sez you!) Shem the Penman. [125]

VI 37 JAMES JOYCE // *** Shaun is presented as a postman and “questioner”, for he poses 12 questions on the contents of the letter written by Anna Livia. All of them are answered. *** So? Who do you no tonigh, lazy and gentleman? The echo is where in the back of the wodes; callhim forth! (Shaun Mac Irewick, briefdragger, for the concern of Messrs Jhon Jhamieson and Song, rated one hundrick and thin per storehundred on this nightly quisquiquock of the twelve apostrophes, set by Jockit Mic Ereweak. He misunderstruck and aim for am ollo of number three of them and left his free natural ripostes to four of them in their own fine artful disorder.) 1. What secondtonone myther rector and maximost bridesmaker was the first to rise taller through his beanstale than the bluegum buaboababbaun or the giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia. [126]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD38 The phoenix be his pyre, the cineres his sire!; piles big pelium // on little ossas like the pilluls of hirculeads; has an eatupus complex [128] and a drinkthedregs kink. [129] Drinks tharr and wodhar for his asama and eats the onthsmble sow to styve off reglar rack; the beggars cloak them reclined about his paddystool, the whores winken him as they walk their side. [130] Hinted at in the eschatological chapters of Humphrey’s Justesse of the Jaypees and hunted for by Theban recensors who sniff there’s something behind the Bug of the Deaf; the king was in [134] his cornerwall melking mark so murry, the queen was steep in armbour feeling fain and furry, the mayds was midst the hawthorns shoeing up their hose, out pimps the back guards (pomp!) and pump gun they goes. [135] He’d be lost for the want of his wan wubblin wall? Answer: Finn MacCool! 2. Does your mutter know your mike? Answer: Ann alive, the lisp of her, ‘twould grig mountains whisper her, and the bergs of Iceland melt in waves of fire, and her spoon-me-spondees, and her dirckle-me-ondenees, make the

Rageous Ossean, kneel and quaff a lyre! And denounce their doings, 39 for river and iver, and a night. Amin! // 3. Which title is the true-to-type motto-in-lieu for that Tickfor JAMES JOYCE Teac thatchment painted witt wheth one darkness, where asnake is under clover and birds aprowl are in the rookeries. [139] Nayther Erat Est Erit noor Non michi sed luciphro? Answer: Thine obesity, O civilian, hits the felicitude of our orb! 4. What Irish capitol city (a dea o dea!) of two syllables and six letters, with a deltic origin and a onthsm end, (ah dust oh dust!) can boost of having a) the most extensive public park in the world, b) the most expensive brewing industry in the world, c) the most expansive peopling thoroughfare in the world, d) the most phillohippuc theobibbous paůpulation in the word: and harmonise your abecedeed responses? Answer: a) Delfas. B) Dorhqk. C) Nublid. D) Dalway. [140] abcd) A bell a bell on Shalldoll Steepbell, ond be’ll go massplon pristmoss speople, Shand praise gon ness our fayst moan neople, our prame Shandeepen, pay name muy feepence, moy nay non Aequallllllll! 5. Whad slags of a loughladd would retten smuttyflesks. The H. E. Chimneys’ Company, he is fatherlow soundigged inmoodmined pershoonbut aleconnerman, nay, that must he isn’t? Answer: Pore ole Joe! 6. What means the saloon slogan Summon In The Housesweep Dinah?

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD40 Answer: Tok. Tik. I hope it’ll pour prais the Climate of all // Ireland I heard the [141] grackles and I skimming the crock on all your sangwidges fippence per leg per drake. Shite! Will you have a plateful? Tak. 7. Who are those component partners of our societate, the doorboy, the cleaner, the sojer, the crook, the squeezer, who are latecomers all the year’s round by anticipation?Who crunch the crusts of comfort due to depredation, drain the mead for misery to incur intoxication, who are ruled, roped, duped and driven by those numen daimons, doyles when they deliberate but sullivans when they are swordsed, Matey, Teddy, Simon, Jorn, Pedher, Andy, Barty, Philly, Jamesy Mor and Tom, Matt and Jakes Mac Carty? Answer: The Morphios! 8. And how war yore maggies? Answer: They war loving, they love laughing, they laugh weeping, they weep smelling, they smell smiling, they smile hating, they hate thinking, they think feeling, they feel tempting, they tempt daring, they dare waiting, they wait taking, they take thanking, they thank seeking, as born for lorn in lore of love to live and wive by wile and rile by rule of ruse ‘reathed rose and [142] hose hol’d home, Sweet Peck-at-my-Heart picks one man more. 9. Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech. Violet’s dyed! Then what would that fargazer seem to seemself to seem seeming of, on it all?

Answer: A collideorscape! 41 10. What bitter’s love but yurning, what’ sour lovemutch but a // bref burning till shee that onth dothe smoake retourne? Answer: I know, onths, of course, dear, but listen, precious! JAMES JOYCE Thanks, pette, those are lovely, pitounette, delicious! But mind the wind, sweet! [143] Move your mouth towards minth, more, preciousest, more on more! To please me, treasure. The little passdoor, I go you before, so, and you’re [146] at my apron stage. Shy is him, dovey. Musforget there’s an audience. Let them, their whole four courtships! [147] With my whiteness I thee woo and bind my silk breasths I thee bound! Always, Amory, amor andmore! Till always, thou lovest! Shshshsh! So long as the lucksmith. Laughs! 11. If you met on the binge a poor acheseyeld from Ailing, when the tune of his tremble shook shimmy on shin, while his countrary raged in the weak of his wailing, [148] we don’t think, Jones, we’d care to this evening, would you? Answer: No, blank ye! So you think I have impulsivism? Did they tell you I am one of the fortysixths? And I suppose you heard I had a wag on my ears? And I suppose they told you too that my roll of

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD42 life is not natural? But before proceeding to conclusively confute this // begging question it would be far fitter for you, if you dare! [149] As my explanations here are probably above your understandings, I shall revert to a more expletive method which I frequently use when I have to sermo with muddlecrass pupils. As none of you knows onthsm I will give all my easyfree translation of the old fabulist’s parable. Allaboy Minor, take your head out of your satchel! Audi, Joe Peters! Exaudi facts! The Mookse and The Gripes. Gentes and laitymen, fullstoppers and semicolonials, hybreds and lubberds! [152] Adrian (that was the Mookse now’s assumptinome) stuccstill phiz-à-phiz to the Gripes in an accessit of aurignacian. [153] And they viterberated each other, canis et coluber with the wildest ever wielded since Tarriestinus lashed Pissasphaltium. — Unuchorn! — Ungulant! — Uvuloid! — Uskybeak! And bullfolly answered volleyball. Nuvoletta in her lightdress, ont of sisteen shimmers, was looking down on them, leaning over the bannistars and listening

all she childishly could. Nuvoletta listened as she reflected herself, 43 though the heavenly one with his constellatria and his emanations // stood between, and she tried all she tried to make the Mookse look up at her (but he was fore too adiaptotously farseeing) and to make JAMES JOYCE the Gripes hear how coy she could be (though he was much too schystimatically auricular about his ens to heed her) but it was all mild’s vapour moist. [157] Then Nuvoletta reflected for the last time in her little long life and she made up all her myriads of drifting minds in one. She was gone. And into the river that had been a stream. But the river tripped on her by and by, lapping as though her heart was brook: Why, why, why! Weh, O weh I’se so silly to be flowing but I no canna stay! No applause, please! Bast! The romescot nattleshaker will go round your circulation in diu dursus. [159] 12. Sacer esto? Answer: Semus sumus! [168]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD44 VII // *** Shaun presents his brother Shem, his nickname and then his physical characteristics, whereupon Shem is also described as a pretender, a very bad poet, among other negative traits. He writes a letter about his parents. But nobody believes him, he is seen as a fool. His mother complains about Shem, but forgives him his errors. *** Shem is as short for Shemus as Jem is joky for Jacob. Shem’s bodily getup, it seems, included an adze of a skull, an eight of a larkseye, the onth of a nose, one numb arm up a sleeve, fortytwo hairs off his uncrown, eighteen to his mock lip, a trio of barbels from his megageg chin (sowman’s son), the wrong shoulder higher than the right, all ears, an artificial tongue with a natural curl, that young Master Shemmy on his very first debouch at the very dawn of protohistory seeing himself such and such, when playing with thistlewords in their garden nursery. [169] Shem was a sham and a low sham and his lowness creeped out first via foodstuffs. [170]

He fell heavily and locally into debit, not even then could such 45 an antinomian be true to type. He would not put fire to his cerebrum; // he would not throw himself in Liffey; he would not explaud himself with pneumantics; he refused to saffrocake himself with a sod. JAMES JOYCE [172] Mr Himmyshimmy, a blighty, a reeky, a lighty, a scrapy, a babbly, a ninny, dirty seventh among thieves and always bottom sawyer, till nowan knowed how howmely howme could be, giving unsolicited testimony on behalf of the absent,unconsciously explaining, for inkstands, with a meticulosity bordering on the insane, the various meanings of all the different foreign parts of speech. [173] Already? In Nowhere has yet the Whole World taken part of himself for his Wife; By Nowhere have Poorparents been sentenced to Worms, Blood and Thunder for Life. Hirp! Hirp! For their Missed Understandings! Chirps the Ballat of Perce-Oreille. [175] His pawdry’s purgatory was more than a nigger bloke could bear, hemiparalysed by the tong warfare and all the shemozzle, (Daily Maily, fullup Lace! Holy Maly, Mothelup Joss!) his cheeks and trousers changing colour every time a gat croaked.

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD46 But would anyone, short of a madhouse, believe it? Neither // ofthose clean little onthsm, Nero or Nobookisonester himself, ever nursed such a spoiled opinion of his monstrous marvellosity. [177] By that rosy lampoon’s effluvious burning and with help of the simulchronic flush in his pann (a ghinee a ghirk he ghets there!) he scrabbled and scratched and scriobbled and skrevened nameless shamelessness about everybody ever he met. [182] Lingua mea calamus scribae velociter scribentis: magna voce cantitans (did a piss, says he was dejected, asks to be exonerated), demum ex stercore turpi cum divi Orionis iucunditate mixto, cocto, frigorique exposito, encaustum sibi fecit indelibile (faked O’Ryan’s, the indelible ink). [185] Let me finish! Just a little judas tonic, my ghem of all jokes, to make you go green in the gazer. Do you hear what I’m seeing, hammet? And remember that golden silence gives consent, Mr Anklegazer! Cease to be civil, learn to say nay! Sh! Shem, you are. Sh! You are mad! [193] It is to you, firstborn and firstfruit of woe, to me, branded sheep, because ye left from me, because ye laughed on me, because, O me I son, ye are forgetting me!, that our turfbrown mummy is acoming, alpilla, beltilla, ciltilla, deltilla, running with her tidings, old the news of the great big world, sonnies had a scrap, woewoewoe!

Bab’s baby walks at seven onths, waywayway! Bride leaves her raid at 47 Punchestime, // [194] JAMES JOYCE as happy as the day is wet, babbling, bubbling, chattering to herself, deloothering the fields on their elbows leaning with the sloothering slide of her, giddygaddy, grannyma, gossipaceous Anna Livia. He lifts the lifewand and the dumb speak. — Quoiquoiquoiquoiquoiquoiquoiq! [195]

FINNEGANS WAKE BY A THREAD48 VIII // *** Two washerwomen are washing clothes and talking about the life of HCE and Anna Livia Plurabelle. They talk about something that is supposed to have happened in Phoenix Park. HCE is described as a dirty and arrogant person. Anna Livia is described as an alluring woman, although sometimes considered a saint. Anna Livia represents water, the river. They also speak of a letter written by her. Slowly it is getting dark and they feel sleepy and can’t hear each other anymore, for they are being transformed into stone and tree. *** O tell me all about Anna Livia! I want to hear all about Anna Livia. Well, you know Anna Livia? Yes, of course, we all know Anna Livia. Tell me all. Tell me now. You’ll die when you hear. Well, you know, when the old cheb went futt and did what you know. Yes, I know, go on. Wash quit and don’t be dabbling. Tuck up your sleeves and loosen your talktapes. And don’t butt me — hike! — when you bend. Or whatever it was they threed to make out he thried to two in the Fiendish park. He’s an awful old reppe. Look at the shirt of him! Look at the dirt of it! He has all my water black on me. And