FW 198.29 - 204.21
This month's meeting saw an assistant Finnster in attendance, which was immensely helpful as we had a lot of washing to get through. To aid in working down the laundry pile, the group welcomed the long awaited Forest T. Clearing. Unfortunately the spectacular weather detained Bronze and Gold on the northern reaches, and a suggestion to travel either north or east one month in the future was mooted. Also present were Hosty, Garlicky Tahini, Mr GR Googly, the Jolly Medical Arklow and myself, Mitzy ("Speak, sweety bird! Mitzymitzy!" 225.20).
After reading aloud and demystifying some pages, we decided the theme today was about passageways, gaps and generally unfilled spaces. I'd like to quote from Rocky, the monosyllabic prize-fighter who got together with the vulnerable, sweet Adrien, saying "we got gaps". The notion of mutual emotional fulfilment, not to say physical fulfilment, is tangential to the raucous gossiple of the washerwomen, which continues here.
"she bogans without a band on" 198.25 there seem to be references to a woman (Molly by the window/ALP) pretending to play violin, ('pretending to ribble a derg on a fiddle") but the result is a sort of joyous dance. Though she can't play at all, insists Washerwoman 1. The "bogan" originates from hiberno-English, according to G Tahini, referring to an egg without a fully-formed shell. The origin of the Australian version of the word was professed unknown.
Here comes some leviathan imagery, as "grampus" is a whale, and one that tears at his sores ("tares at his thor") or tears (a weepy whale, sad and "glommen".) Could this be in response to ALP's gay dancing? Some geography is pointed out, and the Giant's Causeway (north of Ireland) is playfully conflated with Grafton Street, Dublin. We are informed that Fingal's Cave is at the Scottish end of the causeway.
HCE is sad and won't eat. Sitting sombre on his seat ('sambre on his sett'), he reads the deaths in that morning's Times. He perhaps snores with his mouth open from 12 to 4 ('his swallower open from swolf to fore') as those little birds clean his teeth (like those little birds who sit in the mouth of a crocodile, pecking out uneaten bits.)
Anna Livia is shown fussing over her 'dear dubber Dan', which you would for someone who had 'been belching for severn years' - but no matter what food she brings him, he 'kast them frome him'. This is strange, considering the tasty offerings that one day hopefully will be served at the Finnegans Wake Cafe:
menu: blooms of fisk, meddery eygs, staynish beacons on toasc, cupenhave of Greenalnd's tay, dzoupgan of Kaffue mokau an sable, ale of ferns, shinkobread.
ANP offers to sing to soothe HCE: to 'vistule a hymn'. Her singing is so moving that it would 'cut you in two' (or perhaps make you bend over double with laughter?) Is she a good or bad singer, when it's said 'she could bate the hen that crowed on the turrace of Babel'? Maybe this means she was louder, considering the volume of noise emitted from Babel. Still, there is no reaction from HCE, 'not a mag out of him'.
Sentence from 199.33 - 200.3 is fabulous: it describes ALP as an aristocrat in a wonderful outfit riding out in a coach and incredibly costly clothes.
Washerwoman 2 (W2) refuses to believe this portrait of a wealthy Anna, and says 'blatherskite' (liar!), they are as poor as patches (Theirs porpor patches!)
ALP keeps singing to HCE, using compositions by well-known composers including Gluck.HCE as Humphrey ('umvolosy') does not respond, he is ill ('Bheri-Bheri') and 'deaf as a yawn'.
Now things start to get a little saucy and suggestive: ALP will do anything to wake up Humphrey, even excite his interest in life with help from passing servant girls or farm girls. The deal on offer is quite explicitly put ('Blockbeddum here!' - block is slang for the f-word.) ALP is now depicted as a 'cackling' madam who is earning money off her comatose husband. Or else, she is paying a 'silver shiner' to any woman who can get things happening in 'Humphrey's apron'.
W2 remains curious. She wants to know about Anna's 'rima' - at first I thought this was one of ANP's songs mentioned on page 200. Though when W1 starts reading out a letter (the content sounds like a diary entry), you realise W2 knows her friend has a copy of The Letter.
In the italics, W1 reads out the contents, in which: ALP wishes a bigger bottom (river bank)! She says she has worn hers away waiting for old Dane to wake up from hibernation ('his winter's doze') and perform his conjugal duty. She then slyly wonders if she could do some sewing and chores for a manly aristocrat to earn a little money. A final thought has her deciding to stay in her snug bed, though she'd rather be on the beach.
As discussion unfolds on page 201, there's the question of how many kids (aleveens: little fish) ALP had. The number 111 is repeated in various forms (Swahili and Hebrew.) So many kids, that she can't remember their names, but 'they did well to rechristen her Pluhurabelle.'
W2 reckons she will have even more. W1 wants to know about the younger ALP and her many lovers. ALP is shown as an active, seductive lover ('casting her perils before our swains') but also as the river who coasts along, by chance met by the males who enter her...'she sid herself she hardly knew whuon on the annals her graveller was'.
Then there is a beautiful passage about the 'young, thing, pale, shy, slim, slip of a thing' - Liffey as the dainty stream. It's a 'Curraghman' (man from Cork?) who gave her 'the tigris eye'. Now Anna Livia is truly the Liffey, as her course is described at the beginning of page 203. W1 isn't satisfied with the story of the Curraghman, she wants to know the very first man who saw and drank from the Liffey. So W2 tells the story of Michael Arklow, a hermit who breaks his vow of chastity with ALP. 'He had to forget the monk int he man' as he put his hands in her hair.
The final moments of our reading session end with the Liffey diverting through a gap, escaping: 'she sideslipped out of a gap in Devils glen' and then wriggles happily in some muddy pools - Dublin, black pool - and blushing hawthorns 'look askance upon her'. Our impression was not so much askance as awe-struck by the twists and turns of the little Liffey and her later exploits. The descriptions are suggestive and saucy, but the freedom of the river, and its energy, seems also to be a source of envy as well as scandal for the washerwomen.
This month's meeting saw an assistant Finnster in attendance, which was immensely helpful as we had a lot of washing to get through. To aid in working down the laundry pile, the group welcomed the long awaited Forest T. Clearing. Unfortunately the spectacular weather detained Bronze and Gold on the northern reaches, and a suggestion to travel either north or east one month in the future was mooted. Also present were Hosty, Garlicky Tahini, Mr GR Googly, the Jolly Medical Arklow and myself, Mitzy ("Speak, sweety bird! Mitzymitzy!" 225.20).
After reading aloud and demystifying some pages, we decided the theme today was about passageways, gaps and generally unfilled spaces. I'd like to quote from Rocky, the monosyllabic prize-fighter who got together with the vulnerable, sweet Adrien, saying "we got gaps". The notion of mutual emotional fulfilment, not to say physical fulfilment, is tangential to the raucous gossiple of the washerwomen, which continues here.
"she bogans without a band on" 198.25 there seem to be references to a woman (Molly by the window/ALP) pretending to play violin, ('pretending to ribble a derg on a fiddle") but the result is a sort of joyous dance. Though she can't play at all, insists Washerwoman 1. The "bogan" originates from hiberno-English, according to G Tahini, referring to an egg without a fully-formed shell. The origin of the Australian version of the word was professed unknown.
Here comes some leviathan imagery, as "grampus" is a whale, and one that tears at his sores ("tares at his thor") or tears (a weepy whale, sad and "glommen".) Could this be in response to ALP's gay dancing? Some geography is pointed out, and the Giant's Causeway (north of Ireland) is playfully conflated with Grafton Street, Dublin. We are informed that Fingal's Cave is at the Scottish end of the causeway.
HCE is sad and won't eat. Sitting sombre on his seat ('sambre on his sett'), he reads the deaths in that morning's Times. He perhaps snores with his mouth open from 12 to 4 ('his swallower open from swolf to fore') as those little birds clean his teeth (like those little birds who sit in the mouth of a crocodile, pecking out uneaten bits.)
menu: blooms of fisk, meddery eygs, staynish beacons on toasc, cupenhave of Greenalnd's tay, dzoupgan of Kaffue mokau an sable, ale of ferns, shinkobread.
ANP offers to sing to soothe HCE: to 'vistule a hymn'. Her singing is so moving that it would 'cut you in two' (or perhaps make you bend over double with laughter?) Is she a good or bad singer, when it's said 'she could bate the hen that crowed on the turrace of Babel'? Maybe this means she was louder, considering the volume of noise emitted from Babel. Still, there is no reaction from HCE, 'not a mag out of him'.
Sentence from 199.33 - 200.3 is fabulous: it describes ALP as an aristocrat in a wonderful outfit riding out in a coach and incredibly costly clothes.
Washerwoman 2 (W2) refuses to believe this portrait of a wealthy Anna, and says 'blatherskite' (liar!), they are as poor as patches (Theirs porpor patches!)
ALP keeps singing to HCE, using compositions by well-known composers including Gluck.HCE as Humphrey ('umvolosy') does not respond, he is ill ('Bheri-Bheri') and 'deaf as a yawn'.
Now things start to get a little saucy and suggestive: ALP will do anything to wake up Humphrey, even excite his interest in life with help from passing servant girls or farm girls. The deal on offer is quite explicitly put ('Blockbeddum here!' - block is slang for the f-word.) ALP is now depicted as a 'cackling' madam who is earning money off her comatose husband. Or else, she is paying a 'silver shiner' to any woman who can get things happening in 'Humphrey's apron'.
W2 remains curious. She wants to know about Anna's 'rima' - at first I thought this was one of ANP's songs mentioned on page 200. Though when W1 starts reading out a letter (the content sounds like a diary entry), you realise W2 knows her friend has a copy of The Letter.
In the italics, W1 reads out the contents, in which: ALP wishes a bigger bottom (river bank)! She says she has worn hers away waiting for old Dane to wake up from hibernation ('his winter's doze') and perform his conjugal duty. She then slyly wonders if she could do some sewing and chores for a manly aristocrat to earn a little money. A final thought has her deciding to stay in her snug bed, though she'd rather be on the beach.
As discussion unfolds on page 201, there's the question of how many kids (aleveens: little fish) ALP had. The number 111 is repeated in various forms (Swahili and Hebrew.) So many kids, that she can't remember their names, but 'they did well to rechristen her Pluhurabelle.'
W2 reckons she will have even more. W1 wants to know about the younger ALP and her many lovers. ALP is shown as an active, seductive lover ('casting her perils before our swains') but also as the river who coasts along, by chance met by the males who enter her...'she sid herself she hardly knew whuon on the annals her graveller was'.
Then there is a beautiful passage about the 'young, thing, pale, shy, slim, slip of a thing' - Liffey as the dainty stream. It's a 'Curraghman' (man from Cork?) who gave her 'the tigris eye'. Now Anna Livia is truly the Liffey, as her course is described at the beginning of page 203. W1 isn't satisfied with the story of the Curraghman, she wants to know the very first man who saw and drank from the Liffey. So W2 tells the story of Michael Arklow, a hermit who breaks his vow of chastity with ALP. 'He had to forget the monk int he man' as he put his hands in her hair.
The final moments of our reading session end with the Liffey diverting through a gap, escaping: 'she sideslipped out of a gap in Devils glen' and then wriggles happily in some muddy pools - Dublin, black pool - and blushing hawthorns 'look askance upon her'. Our impression was not so much askance as awe-struck by the twists and turns of the little Liffey and her later exploits. The descriptions are suggestive and saucy, but the freedom of the river, and its energy, seems also to be a source of envy as well as scandal for the washerwomen.
