Episode 13 Dicussion Questions

How does the way Joyce describes the setting, the characters, and the many mannerisms of the beginning of episode 13 closely relate it to the part of the Odyssey where Odysseus is shipwrecked on the isle of the Phaeanicians and his meeting with Nausicaa (the title of this episode)?


Characterize Bloom. Is he a complete and hopeless pervert, or is there more to his interpretation of romance and women than what sexual pleasures he can obtain from them? Why is Bloom married to a powerful seductress yet enjoys the attractiveness of other women as well?

Stand up for yourself! (Part Two)

As we learn more and more about Bloom and his supporting cast that he runs in to throughout his day, a lot of preconceptions about Bloom change. Since my last post about Bloom and his inability to not only deal with his problems head on, but also to actually realize that he is mocked by many men in Ireland, I have come to understand (after reading Episodes 12 & 13) that Adam Stoller made a good point, I do not think that Bloom will ever come to face these men, and his reputation throughout Dublin will probably continue to be rather poor for the remainder of his days.

Bloom just seems to not understand that he is not highly thought of. After episode twelve's scuffle with the citizen and the rest of the men in the bar talking behind Bloom's back and showing disgust whenever he attempts to enter into a conversation, and Bloom thinking in episode thirteen that "oh maybe the citizen was joking and did not mean what he was doing when he threw that biscuit tin at the car"

Men judge Bloom because of his Jewish heritage and his falling-apart relationship with Molly (among other things), where he is basically being led around by a string by Molly. One thing I can give to Bloom is that at least he is not oblivious to the fact that Boylan and Molly may have something going on secretly. But even giving him this takes more away from him because I do not believe (from waht I know about Bloom so far through episode 13) is that he will never stand up to Molly or Boylan. He will never call out their relationship and try to fix his own with Molly. It is rather sad and pathetic that Bloom, although he may be a bit odd (he basically masturbated in front of a girl at the beach then got up and tried to fix his stained shirt in episode thirteen) he is still a rather good man who cares about his daughter and avoids drinking binges and owing money and all the other problems that the rest of these men who judge Bloom have. It seems to me that all these men are the pot calling the kettle black. But that is one thing that makes this book interesting, this is the way it works in real life. Men are quick to judge and be hypocritical without solving their own problems.

Life Intertwined in Death

Bloom is cynical about death and treats it with unusual casualness, suggesting at one point that it would be more practical to bury corpses standing up. He doesn't believe in the idea of resurrection, and even makes a joke about the Lazarus story. Perhaps his cynicism comes from his experience with death.

He thinks of romance occurring in cemeteries. This idea of an act of procreation in a place that serves as the resting house of death shows Bloom's musings on the intertwining nature of life and death. "In the midst of death we are in life. Both ends meet." That's the theory, anyway. Maybe what Bloom really feels is that he's had too much of the latter, with his father committing suicide and his son, who is supposed to be the continuation of his life, prematurely passing on. In his case, it's unbalanced.

The unbalance shows in episode 6's heavily death-themed setting. Aside from the obvious fact that he's on his way to a funeral, the presence of death is made clear in subtler ways. A man who stands on a barge, floating slowly on the waterway, bears some resemblance to Charon, the ferryman of Hades. We even have a Cerberus-like figure; "bully about the muzzle he looks," thinks Bloom of Father Coffey, noting also that Coffey sounds like coffin. We're missing a Hades figure, though. Maybe it's the man in the mackintosh, number 13, "death's number."

What the Blind Don't See

Up to this point, the chapter titles and thematic parallels between Ulysses and the Odyssey seem to highlight significant similarities. Episode 11, however, accentuates the differences. In the Odyssey, under Circe’s advisement, Ulysses orders his men to fill their ears with wax and bound him to the ship in order to resist the temptation of the mellifluous and seductive sirens. But in Ulysses there is no shining protagonist who turns his back on temptation. Bloom indulges in his sexual correspondences with Martha (even though he is bored of it); Dollard throws away his illustrious carrier for alcohol; and Boylan ogles, diddles, and fondles anything that moves (though he does prefer the bronze-haired girl over the gold one).

Bloom does, however, shy away from the prostitute he recognizes on the street:
“A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom. When first he saw that form endearing? Yes, it is. I feel so lonely. Wet night in the lane. Horn. Who had the? Heehaw shesaw. Off her beat here…Too dear too near to home sweet home. Sees me, does she? Looks a fright in the day. Face like dip. Damn her. O, well, she has to live like the rest. Look in here.
But his resilience comes from shame not strength of will.

The only character who resists temptation is the blind man who cannot see the alluring beauties in front of him. He, like the sailors with wax in their ears, resists temptation out of ignorance. Joyce’s commentary on human restraint is awfully pessimistic: only he who cannot be tempted, will not be tempted.

Wandering Rocks

How does the title of Episode 10 (Wandering Rocks) relate to the writing or events of the episode? Why do you think the Episode was given this name?

Perception and Politics in Nestor:

As Stephen sits in Mr. Deasy’s office during Episode two, he reels off in his mind the countless atrocities committed by the British against the Irish throughout history. Stephen doesn’t bother to voice his objections, but Mr. Deasy senses that Stephen is no anglophile. He intersperses his lecture on foot and mouth disease with political prognostications and insults about the “fenians” in a chapter in which Joyce emphasizes the relativity of all events. Stephen, despite his progressive nature, cannot free himself from being a subject of Irish history. However, he recognizes that he and all Irish are subjects in history. He wonders: “But can those have been possible weeing that they never were? Or was the only possible which came to pass” (25). Stephen, unlike Mr. Deasy, stakes his belief in the idea that “an actuality of the possible as possible” will unfetter the Irish from their English chains.

Deasy, on the other hand, subscribes to the idea that history itself moves to the singular goal of “the manifestation of God” (25). When Stephen responds that a shout is a manifestation of God, he most clearly elucidates the dichotomy. Deasy believes in history as a single timeline which will have a definite ending in the future (and will result in the triumph of good), while Stephen believes that history ends in the present, and that what happens at the present determines the future. This basic contrast between the fatalist and the proponent of human agency determines the political beliefs of both men. Mr. Deasy searches for ways to accommodate the English. The most convenient way to do so, of course, is to demonize another group while portraying the English as benevolent father-figures. Jews and women are his choice targets. He claims that the “Jew merchants are already at their work of destruction” (33) just after declaring virtuously that “money is power” (30).

Stephen, obviously, is an ardent nationalist. He cannot abandon the history that has determined everything about his life. He refuses to redirect blame at others for the sins of the English solely to advance under a foreign government’s rule, as Deasy does. In extolling British venality as a virtue, Mr. Deasy not only accepts Ireland’s place on the underbelly of English history, but accepts the reasons for English tyranny: money. For all of his bluster about the clear-cut nature of reality and the virtues of financial independence, it is ironic that in this episode Mr. Deasy is the character who accepts his role as a subject in history.

"Ineluctable Modality of the Visible": Perception and Reality

An individual's perception and its relation to the concept of "reality" is a theme that has been explored throughout philosophical history. Plato's well-known "Allegory of the Cave" is perhaps the earliest work to touch on it, and Joyce, in his efforts to create "the modern epic," does the same throughout Ulysses. Given the content of "Episode 2: Nestor," it is only fitting that Joyce immediately address his protagonist's own opinion on the matter. "Nestor" is rife with Stephen's considerations as to history's certainty: "Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass?" (Joyce, 25) As Stephen teaches, it occurs to him that his concept of reality is framed by the limitations time applies to the otherwise infinite nature of the universe, and wonders if there can ever be any definitive or objective history. Stephen's employer, Mr. Deasy, simplifies the issue, claiming that "All history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God." (Joyce, 34) Of course for Stephen, for whom God is nothing more than "A shout in the street," (Joyce 34) this narrow viewpoint does not exactly hold water.

As Stephen and Joyce's readers leave the school and enter episode 3, they become immersed in a tumultuous whirlpool of Stephen's scholarly (and not-so scholarly) considerations. This phrase, "Ineluctable modality of the visible," upon which the reader is launched into the third episode of Ulysses, offers some degree of insight as to Stephen's own philosophy concerning the unanswerable quandary of reality and perception. With this single phrase, Stephen asserts the power of perception as the ultimate and undeniable reality.