some meditations on page 555

This is the first page of the last chapter in book 3; the last chapter before the final, fourth book of the Wake.

It occurred to me as I read and re-read this page, my head filling with ideas and musings prompted by the words of the page, their lay-out and their brilliance that each page or each passage of Finnegans Wake is like a work of art, or poem to itself. Each passage benefits from rereading, analysis and enjoyment of the text's poetry, music and sheer depth.

This again brings me to what is so stunning about the book.  I have long thought of writing a long, integrated, single poem book, but what chance to I have to write something so wonderful as this?  It's a novel, a work of art, a poem, dream-literature, commentary on all of history and many more things. Its just overwhelming and seems IMPOSSIBLE.  Joyce's dogged persistence in his art is quite amazing to me, more and more as I proceed.  And I know, I will need to read it more and more, again and again to fully appreciate the Big Picture.

I found it! My favorite word in all of Finnegans Wake

Page 542

"interquackeringly"


"Sapphrageta and Consciencia were undecidedly attached to me but the maugher machrees and the auntieparthenopes my schwalby words with litted spongelets set their soakeye pokeys and botchbons afume: Fletcher-Flemmings, elisaboth, how interquackingly they rogated me, their golden one, I hesitant made replique: Mesdemdes to leursieuresponsor; and who in hillsaide, don't let flyfire till you see their whites of the bunkers eyes!"

I believe that this is HCE going on about his "indiscretion" in the park, addressing the intolerable four old judges.

interquackeringly is a disassembled and reassembled word, being the word "interrogated" with the "rogated" split off and placed two words later.  "Inter" is conjoined with "quackingly", giving the girls interrogating him the sense of a poultry flock.  Very crazy.

pages 474 - 500 Book 3, Chapter 3

The four judges rip into Shaun / HCE, taking turns making very strange pronouncements as HCE goes to sleep / dies / enters a dream (take your pick)

Now that I am view of the end of FW, I am getting that vanishing point phenomenon. The more I read, the farther off the end seems.  I am down to the last 162 pages, I guess it is.  Its like the old saw from IT Project Management: "The last 10% of the project takes 90% of the time."   I am feeling that for sure.

On the plus side, the reading is still quite amazing.

From page 453:

"I'll make ye all an easter hummingsphere of myself the moment that you name the way."

"the rest of your blatherumskite"

"do you want trippings for when you've Paris inspire your hat?"

"communionistically"

"Deck the diamants that never die!"

end of book 3, chapter 2 164-274

We say a long goodbye to Jaun, sending him verbosely, musically out into night becoming day in Dublin.  This follows his sermonising and leave-taking.  Metaphorically, I guess, he is dying, it was his wake, too and that's it for him.

This chapter was very mellifluous with many gigantic run on sentences, some encompassing two pages and more, of Irish gab.

On we continue!

Positive Benefits of Finnegans Wake pages 254 -264

continuing on mainly in soliloquy, first person, Jaun / Juan? lecturing of the young ladies

Some reflections on Finnegans Wake in general:

I note that my reading acuity and analytic ability has improved by the reading of Finnegans Wake. It requires such focus and be-here-now-ness that I think it has generally improved my ability to interpret and consume text.

When I now read other works, such as poetry and other novels, essays and articles, my comprehension is much improved by the improved focus that I have developed.  I can easily concentrate, uninterruptedly through pages of a text without diversion.  I have improved my acuity by reading the Wake.

FW requires you to attend to every word and not to assimilate general meaning from context.  Since nearly each word in the text is altered artistically in some way, one has to consider the words one-by-one and not as simply part of a sentence or clause.  In order to do justice to Joyce's work requires you to relearn how to read.  No more of that speed reading scanning.  Read-interpret, read-interpret, .... assimilate.  Its very different from immediate apprehension.

FW also requests of you a higher form of interpretation than most texts.  One needs to consider the current word on many levels - literal, narrative, historical, novel-context, dream vs. waking, mythical context, theoretical context (e.g. Vico, etc).   To read it, you have to adjust your mental focus across all of time and literature. Wow.

So, other texts, when consumed simultaneously, seem quite 'transparent' to use an au courant term.

Chapter 2, Book 3 p. 429 to 454 In which we enter first person

So here we have a first person narrative (for the first time, I think). It seems to slide between "Jaunty Jaun"  (a combination of Shem and Shaun?) and Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker, but is indeed first person until there seems to be a re-institution of 3rd person on page 454.

The flow of the monolog is quite traversible to me, back into the barroom 'gift of gab' Irish musical monolog which travels from thought to thought, elaborating colorfully the thoughts (in dream) of the narrator, who is lecturing some young ladies on behavior in a very multivariate fashion.  Mind-boggling?  Yes, quite.

page 130

.........now you, Jaun, asking kindily (hillo, missies!) after there howareyous at all with those of their dolly-begs (and where's Agatha's lamb? and how are Bernadetta's columbillas? and Juliennaw's tubberbunnies? and Eulalina's nuggerfunnies?) he next went on (finefeelingfit!) to drop a few stray remarks anent their personal appearances and the contrary tastes displayed in the tight kittycasques and their smart fricky-frockies, asking coy after slow one had she rea Irish legginds and gently reproving one that the ham of her hom could seen below her hem and whispering aside, as lavariant, that the hook of her hum was open a bittock at her back to have a sideeye to that, hom, (and all of course just to fill up a form out of pure human kindness an in a sprite of fun) for Jaun, by the way, was by the way of becoming (I think, I hope he was) the most purely human being that ever was called man, loving all up and down creation...........

We begin to worry about the author's and Jaun's intentions with the young ladies and about the paternalistic, unhealthy sexual viewpoint underlying.  This echoes the previous accounts of HCE's transgressions with young girls in the park, that landed him in court.

This passage on 441 caught my eye

La Dreeping! Die Droopink! The inimitable in puresuet of the inevitable! There is nothing to touch it, we are taucht, unless she'd care for a mouthpull of white pudding for the wih is on here rose marine and the lunchlight in her eye, so when you pet the rollingpin write my name on the pie.

and this on page 442 is just great:

(if I came any quicker I'll be right back before I left)

There's much more great stuff in this passage, but I will leave it at that.  I will enjoy revisiting all of this.  Very fluid, yet confounding.

Book 3 Chapter 1 422 - 428 Good stuff!

I addressed the morning and early afternoon Foggily, editing poetry and absorbing more insane political aFnd baseball news. My little dogs laughed not to see such disport, but I did prepare a dish with a spoon for a crock pot pork chop extravaganza.

However, when I emerged from my personal murk, I went to Starbucks (the one in Flemington is such an entitled shit-hole, but oh well) and read the above 6 pages of the Wake.  Oh, joyous day!

Mainly, in this section, Shaun is excoriating Shem and its really good.  What really got me started was the inclusion of yet another 100 letter word (all of these denoting Thunder, Finnegans fall from the ladder and many other things:

"Ullhodturdenweirmudgaardgringnirurdrmolnirfenrirlukkilokkibaughimandodrrerin-surtkirinmgernrackinarockar!"

Later on we get this bit ( which addresses some turf I have been tending in my poetry )

"And the stellas were shinings. And the earthlight strewed aromatose. His pibrook creppt mong the donkness. A reek was waft on the luftstream.  He was ours, all fragrance. And we were his for a lifetime. O dulcid dreamings languidinous! Taboccoo!"

Amazing.

The chapter ends with a page long Irish blessing that rambles on and on.

Book III, Chapter 1 pages 403 to 422

Shaun has a dialog with (I think) either "the People" or with an Incubus - maybe both.  And he holds forth on a variety of subjects, including an Aesop's Fable - the Ant and the Grasshopper.  This fable is elaborated very humorously (and I do mean elaborated.  

This chapter seems to be playing out in real time, not throughout all of history at once and in a fairly straightforward manner, as a dialog.  Shaun is asked questions and he answers them.

There's a lot of funny quotes, like "In the name of the former and of the latter and of their holocaust. Allmen"

Shaun is questioned about the letters and he dissembles. About this time, Shem shows up and they begin to dispute.

The language of this chapter, so far is fairly legible as it is all spoken and it doesn't go into a lot of diversions, diatribes and descriptions - it is relatively easy to follow and not get absolutely lost.