Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Sewing a Dream Together (Finnegans Wake, Day Five)

Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cat's hours on the Pollockses' woolly round tabouretcushion watching her sewing a dream together, the tailor's daughter, stitch to her last. Or while waiting for winter to fire the enchantement, decoying more nesters to fall down the flue. It's allavalonche that blows nopussy food. If you only were there to explain the meaning, best of men, and talk to her nice of guldenselver. The lips would moisten once again. As when you drove with her to Findrinny Fair. What with reins here and ribbons there all your hands were employed so she never knew was she on land or at sea or swooped through the blue like Airwinger's bride. She was flirtsome then and she's fluttersome yet. She can second a song and adores a scandal when the last post's gone by. Fond of a concertina and pairs passing when she's had her forty winks for supper after kanekannan and abbely dimpling and is in her merlin chair assotted, reading her Evening World. To see is it smarts, full lengths or swaggers. News, news, all the news. Death, a leopard, kills fellah in Fez. Angry scenes at Stormount. Stilla Star with her lucky in goingaways. Opportunity fair with the China floods and we hear these rosy rumours. Ding Tams he noise about all same Harry chap. She's seeking her way, a chickle a chuckle, in and out of their serial story, Les Loves of Selskar et Pervenche, freely adapted to The Novvergin's Viv. There'll be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear. Zee End. But that's a world of ways away. [Emphases mine--sgfb]

I can't read this book for more than ten minutes without wanting to grab pen and paper and write something myself. Joyce's critics claimed that he'd gone beyond genius, beyond poetry and beyond all language in Finnegans Wake and maybe they're right, but maybe they're just not brave enough to jump into the limitless sky with old James just to see how far they fall, how far they fly, how they'll tumble and where they'll land.


  1. Those lines are soo 'goose-pimple generating'..I really need to read some Joyce..
    You are right- it does make me want to write, except that I have soo much school work right now that I can't (which is why I quickly closed the window before I had any unholy urges to write and therefore did not comment. Till I saw your post today about no reader interest in Joyce. I AM interested- though wary of (not necessarily plot) spoilers so sometimes I skim through your review posts)

  2. Lavanya: I don't know if it's possible to "spoil" Finnegans Wake, because it's really a moment in time more than a forward-moving story, but certainly a lot of the gorgeous language is best when stumbled upon on your own! I can't blame you for skimming or even skipping these posts.

  3. Did Joyce have hypergraphia? Because I'm thinking, yes, yes, indeed he did.

  4. Tara: I think he was a profligate user of words, but I don't know if he had the sort of mania hypergrapia sufferers exhibit in his personal life. I don't know if he kept a lot of journals or wrote a bazillion letters or was compelled to write when he wasn't working on his novels. It would be interesting to see how much writing in general Joyce did.