Saturday, March 7, 2026

So This is Dyoublong? Living Inside the World of the Wake: Part 3

Continuing my American-spectator-in-Ireland, wandering psychogeographical exploration of Finnegans Wake and relevant sites, jumping around the map of Dublin and the Emerald Isle, recalling my time staying there a few years back.

In part two I mentioned that the earliest settlement of Dublin involved two adjacent towns, Dubh Linn, and Atha Cliath. Having recently done a close reading of the Nightlessons chapter (II.2) of the Wake where the bicircular diagram appears, I've become convinced the diagram is, on one level, a reference to the doublin' bi-circular dual-town Dublin origins, a map of ancient Dublin. See more about this here and here



"Vieus Von DVbLIn" (FW 293)

vieux = old Dublin

{Views of Dublin} 




(circle diagram as map of old Dublin )


"Vieus Von DVbLIn"  (FW 293.13)
early-Viking Dublin  
{if interpreting this line as a chronogram the roman numerals V+V+D+V+L+I add up to 566 which is half of the Wake's recurrent 1132, also indicating Dublin circa 566 AD, the Viking era}

Dublin as a town began with the Norse Vikings who invaded and set up a settlement at Dubh Linn. There were already small Gaelic settlements in the area around the Liffey estuary. Atha Cliath was the adjacent settlement where the wickerwork bridge crossed the river Liffey. The name Dubh Linn is old Irish. The Vikings rendered it in old Norse as Dyflin or Dyfflin, which pops up in Finnegans Wake a few times as "in Dyfflinarsky" (13.22) and "in Dyfflinsborg" (582.21). 

The river now known as the River Poddle used to form a pool or a confluence of waters where it met the Liffey River, this pool was known as Dubh Linn which means Black Pool. This body of water historically fed into a protective moat around Dublin Castle. In present day, there is a subterranean network of rivers formed by the confluence of these waters, which runs underneath Dublin Castle. 



                                                        "mind the poddle!" FW 208.30 

See the River Dodder in FW. The Dodder River, Poddle River and the Grand Canal are the remnants of this confluence. "Polycarp pool, the pool of Innalavia" FW 600.04

After this confluence pool was closed off by established embankments of artificial development, the area now known as Temple Bar would frequently breach the sea-walls and flood. This overflowing of the riverbanks seems to be what's taking place when the formatting of the text mutates in the middle of Nightlessons II.2, when the left & right marginal notes disappear and the middle column of text overtakes or floods the page (FW 287-292) and becomes "Floods Area" on FW 289.28.

Besides the modern-day remnants of this confluence of waters in underground networks of rivers, there was also a relatively recent (2018) discovery of a 13th century columnar tower uncovered in an underground excavation near the River Liffey, it's called Isolde's Tower. Read more about Isolde's Tower here.

Joyce in a 1924 letter to Harriet Weaver describing his latest work: "Some of the words at the beginning are hybrid Danish-English. Dublin is a city founded by Vikings." The Norse Vikings had established the city but then after the Anglo-Norman invasion of the 12th century led by Strongbow "from bank of call to echobank, by dint of strongbow" (FW 547.31), the Norse community was pushed out to the north side of the river. The Norse community went "from bank of call to echobank" from one riverbank to the other, settling in the northwest of city center an area that became known as the Town of Ostmen (meaning Eastmen) and later Ostmannstown, today called Oxmantown. Variations on this neighborhood Oxmantown appear throughout FW. "Olaf's on the rise and Ivor's on the lift and Sitric's place's between them" (FW 12.31-32). According to Fweet, these three streets named after Vikings are Olaf Road, Ivar Street, and Sitric Place, all near one another in the northbank side of Dublin. 

Joyce had spent the first decade of his life living in the south side of Dublin, in Bray, and then in Blackrock, but around when he was 11 years old Joyce's father began facing financial issues, and the family moved to the north side of the river in 1893. They lived in Drumcondra ("Draumcondra's Dreamcountry" FW 293) and later on North Richmond Street which is not only used a setting for the story "Araby" and is mentioned by Stephen in Ulysses, it also appears in FW in a list of Joyce's past addresses, "12 Norse Richmound" on FW 420. Many sites on the north side of the Liffey are noteworthy for Joyce research. The James Joyce Center is on North Great George St. where they preserve the door of the building that once stood at number 7 Eccles St, the home of Leopold Bloom in Ulysses. The house at 7 Eccles St was where Joyce's friend once lived, it is also on the north side of town but that whole block has been turned into a hospital, actually it's the same hospital Bloom mentions in Ulysses: "The Mater Misericordiae. Eccles street. My house down there." Years later the Mater Misericordiae hospital expanded and swallowed up the Bloom house. (Read more about visiting Joyce's Dublin addresses in this Guardian piece.)

One afternoon when I was staying in Dublin, I explored the north side, and walked around the Stoneybatter neighborhood on the outskirts of the east entrance to Phoenix Park. Stoneybatter the name means Stony Road, as this area used to be a rocky thoroughfare leading from the countryside into the city. Stoneybatter today is a diverse neighborhood with a substantial Brazilian population. I was at a Brazilian cafe in Stoneybatter once when I ate delicious pão de queijo. Encountered numerous street art murals around Stoneybatter, a place that appears in FW as: 
"stoney badder" FW 242.23
"Staneybatter" FW 291.11
"stony battered" FW 553.29



In Ulysses, the "Cyclops" episode opens:
"I was just passing the time of day … at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes."
When I was in Stoneybatter, I walked along Arbour Hill Road, a street which also pops up in FW a few times. In FW there are multiple allusions to an old site in Arbour Hill Rd area known as Scaldbrother's Hole, it was the hiding place of a notorious thief, Scaldbrother, who would plunder victims and then escape into a subterranean network of caves he knew how to navigate well enough to evade capture. Scald, from the Norse word for poet. See more here, and Glasheen's Third Census of FW mentions:
Scaldbrother—Mm Staples [Hugh Staples, scholar] says that a curious subterranean building in Oxmantown (part of Dublin) is named "Scaldbrother's Hole" after a notorious thief who inhabited it. Scald is a Scandinavian poet. 223.19.
[More here.]

...walking further west along Arbour Hill Road the road makes a ninety-degree turn and curves to the south towards the Liffey ("backtowards motherwaters" FW 84.30). If you continue on that road southward you will come to a park which today contains the Anna Livia statue, formerly located on the Liffey itself but moved to this small park perched over a pond. Locals call it "the floozy in the jacuzzi." When I went to see the Anna Livia statue there were three Irish gents snugly seated together on a bench, enjoying a smoke. Just a park in Dublin with a statue of a river goddess from Joyce's night-novel and a trio of Dublin guys being dudes. 

                (Floozie in the jacuzzi and the three Irishmen.)

Then I was walking westward along Parkgate Street towards Phoenix Park…. Joyce makes specific mention, in Ulysses and FW, of the Phoenix Park murderers having their last drink at a pub on Parkgate Street. Also, located on Parkgate Street is the Nancy Hands pub, named for the first female pub owner in Dublin and in Ireland (link). The Nancy Hands pub is mentioned several times in Finnegans Wake. I enjoyed a pint there one afternoon, and I appreciated the atmosphere of the old place, it felt cozy and historic, and the pub was filled with families, grandparents, grandkids, generations gathering together there for lunch and pints. Just next door to the Nancy Hands pub I noticed a sign for a realtor named Finnegan Menton. A nice little coincidence to see the signs of the Nancy Hands beer garden featured in Finnegans Wake adjacent to a local Irish Finnegan's sign, but this is Finnegans World. 
(Read more about this pub at Peter Chrisp's blog.)

Nancy Hands pub and Finnegan sign.



The pub chapter of FW (II.3) ends with a sailing off of a ship, "So sailed the stout ship Nansy Hans. From Liff away." (FW 382.27) Walking out of the Nancy Hands pub you would turn right and walk westward to go over to the entrance to Phoenix Park. There's a hotel right near the entrance, Phoenix Park Hotel, which isn't specifically mentioned in the Wake but felt significant because the book centers around an inn or hotel, which is also a pub. "Finn's Hotel Fiord" (330.24) More about that shortly.

A passage on FW 564 describes the entrance to Phoenix Park:

Finn his park has been much the admiration of all the stranger ones, grekish and romanos, who arrive to here. The straight road down the centre (see relief map) bisexes the park which is said to be the largest of his kind in the world. On the right prominence confronts you the handsome vinesregent's lodge while, turning to the other supreme piece of cheeks, exactly opposite, you are confounded by the equally handsome chief sacristary's residence. Around is a little amiably tufted and man is cheered when he bewonders through the boskage how the nature in all frisko is enlivened by gentlemen's seats. FW 564.08-17

Sign at entrance to Phoenix Park.


A short walk on the "straight road down the centre" entrance of the park leads to the Wellington Monument, the "Zenith Part" (FW 494.13) of the Wake and Phoenix Park. The Wellington Monument is a central recurrent motif in FW, starting from the "Willingdone Museyroom" section where the Wellington Monument has an underground museum beneath it, full of artifacts from Wellington's defeat of Napoleon in the Battle of Waterloo. To search for an underground Waterloo museum at the Wellington Monument, though, would be like asking if there's a basement in the Alamo. It's just a Wakean dream conflation from Joyce's mind of the obelisk in Phoenix Park standing as a phallic imperial monument to the Irish-born Duke of Wellington, combined with the diorama hilltop museum outside Brussels where Joyce as a tourist had visited the site of the Battle of Waterloo. 

Wellington Monument (Phoenix Park)


The Willingdone monument in real life was interesting to behold, the four sides each featured  their own weathered copper frieze depicting battles, and the sides of the shaft of the obelisk itself featured, in faintly visible faded golden lettering, the names of battles from Wellington's career. There you see the "Pyrenees" and "Monkaseer" etc. One of the friezes displays the scene from the Battle of Waterloo.  

Waterloo frieze on Wellington Monument.


On the Wellington monument in FW, the Joyce scholar Andrew Gibson writes:
The monument was not just a tribute to the 'Iron Duke'. It was also an assertion of British imperial triumph within the Irish capital. Here [in FW], however, Wellington's name functions as a vortex attracting miscellaneous allusions to warfare with which he had no connection [...]. Part of the comic point is to deface the references to Wellington's actual victories that adorn the monument itself.
(
p. 162, James Joyce Critical Lives
That Joyce defaces the Wellington Monument throughout the many allusions in FW is a helpful point. And there are so many references to it, starting with the Willingdone Museyroom scene but then appearing over and over in so many mutating forms. Toward the end of the book, the monument is invoked in a mix of Sanskrit language (perhaps a postcolonial response to British imperialism in India?) with "vellumtomes muniment, Arans Duhkha" (FW 595.22). Can't neglect to also mention the sexual shame aspect, the erotic undercurrent of many of the references to the phallic "Zenith Part" (FW 494.13) in Phoenix Park. In the Wake "the sphinxish pairc" FW 324.07 becomes an Edenic riddle, where some shameful event of a sexual nature is rumored to have occurred. My Dublin guide did mention to me that even nowadays the local Irish teenagers meet in the park for furtive encounters since the Catholic families tend to be pretty tight-knit and uptight households. Gotta find a place to fulfill those desires. Phoenix Park is huge, easy to get lost in. There are many deer in Phoenix Park, it's a vast green space spanning many miles. Phoenix Park is more than double the size of Central Park in Manhattan. It's like a dense dark forest at night, you could see why a primal Wakean scene is a mysterious dream encounter in the park at night. 

A couple of Finnegans Wake-connected pubs flank the outer edges of the park, the most significant one being the Mullingar House in the village of Chapelizod. Joyce's father John Stanislaus Joyce had frequented the Mullingar House when he once worked as a clerk nearby. Lucia Joyce wrote to Frank Budgen in 1933 confirming the central location in Finnegans Wake when she mentioned that, "The principal bistro he [James Joyce] says is the Mullingar Inn" of which the main character is the landlord, HCE the innkeeper. The principal bistro, great phrase. There was a bowling green in the backyard of the Mullingar Inn where Joyce's father John Joyce once had a moment of glory, according to the scholar John Gordon (blog): "His prowess as a bowler, on show on the bowling green in the inn's back yard, was noted in a June 20, 1876 item in The Irish Times." 



I visited the pub now called the Mullingar House in Chapelizod once and enjoyed a pint. It's a 20-minute ride on the bus from Dublin city center. Mullingar House is decidedly not a tourist spot, it's a pub frequented by locals. It wasn't crowded when I was there, and even though there are multiple commemorations of the place's significance to Joyce and Finnegans Wake, there was no indication any person cared much about the connection. You can see, though, a placard above the front entrance touts it as "Home of All Characters and Elements in James Joyce's novel Finnegans Wake." I can't help but wonder if there's some reference there to the recurring initials HCE from the Wake in that phrase "Home of all Characters and Elements."


Joyce plaque in Mullingar House pub.



As I mentioned, the pub hugs the edge of Phoenix Park. Looking at the map I noticed there is a prehistoric dolmen, a megalithic burial site, located in Phoenix Park spatially in the vicinity of the Mullingar House pub (less than 1,000 feet or 300 meters away). A line from FW mentions "Finmark's Howe" (FW 553) where howe is a tumulus or prehistoric burial mound. Many megaliths and tombs appear in the Wake. Whatever significance the Mullingar House may have initially had for Joyce in his life is perhaps less important at this point. For him to have centered the wide Wakean universe on that place, the literary weight it holds now from its placement at the heart of such a phantasmagorical hypertextual construction of thermonuclear poetry as the Wake, that alone gives it immense weight and shadow significance, more than eight decades after the book's publication. Joyce's final novel is sometimes said (by its most ardent acolytes) to contain everything in the universe, therefore that sign above the entrance really says it all, "Home of All Characters and Elements in James Joyce's novel Finnegans Wake." That place is a fulcrum of the universe. (More info on Mullingar pub here and here.)

Across the park to the north, on the opposite side of Phoenix Park in the Castleknock neighborhood there is an old turnstile gateway in the stone wall of the park leading directly to a beer garden at an old tavern called the Hole in the Wall. This pub appears in Finnegans Wake, too. It's another pub for the locals, not a touristy spot. It sits outside the city center in the local streets. This place has also been known as the Black Horse Tavern in the past and it too was even called Nancy Hands pub at one point. I examined an old photo of this place in a prior post on the significance of the portal in the Wake's symbology. The wall and the gate next to the tavern are all very much the same today as they were more than a century ago. (See more about this pub at my post "Beyond the Portal".)


"A glass of Danu U'Dunnell's foamous olde Dobbelin ayle." (FW 7)
Wake pubs:
-Nancy Hands (Stoneybatter)
-Hole in the Wall (Castleknock)
-Mullingar Inn (Chapelizod) [center of the whole thingamagog]

The Mullingar pub might be the principal bistro but the Wake also conflates all these pubs. When the lines on the opening page mention "their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park" that seems to conflate Castleknock and Chapelizod, both places with pubs along the park edges, and both have an "upturnpikepointandplace"---whereas the Chapelizod pub is next to a turnpike road, the Castleknock pub has a turnstile gate. The pubs stand in for each other and for all pubs. Joyce does the same with hotels in FW, where Finn's Hotel could be the principal inn, but it's conflated with other Dublin hotels, "the unguest hostel in Saint Scholarland." (FW 135.19) Just as Dublin is conflated with and becomes a double for all cities in the world. 



*   *   *

As I've mentioned before, Dublin in the Wake is not just the setting for a story, it's much more than that. I'm not sure there's any other piece of literature which celebrates a city in so much depth and detail as this (including Ulysses), not just in a descriptive way, the names of Dublin locales form the fabric of the text. Once you learn the names of places you'll notice they are embedded on every page like gravel on a street.

A particularly rich example is the section known as Haveth Childers Everywhere (FW 532-554) where the main character HCE, the master builder, speaking in the first-person, describes the designing and constructing of Dublin. What stands out "from lacksleap up to liffsloup" (FW 547) is not just the lack of sleep in "lacksleap" it's also referring to going from Leixlip (west of Dublin) over to the Liffey's Loopline Bridge (train bridge, which is still there). When HCE mentions how he "ranked rothgardes round wrathmindsers" (FW 541) that invokes the districts of Rathgar and Rathmine in the south part of Dublin.

Another line here is worth venturing into for a moment: 
"I richmounded the rainelag in my bathtub of roundwood" (FW 542)
That's Richmond Hill in Rathmines, and Ranelagh another district in the south part of Dublin city, and then Roundwood which is a village in County Wicklow just outside of Dublin where there is a reservoir ("bathtub of roundwood"). I went out to Roundwood once for a short stay, it's in a beautiful green valley in the region of Glendalough, with scenes of mountains and valleys that were carved in the glacial period. The green hills are wavy and serene. 

Glendalough
"In yonder valley, too, stays mountain sprite." FW 564.26


Roundwood is the name of the village, Glendalough is the valley, and the reservoir itself is called the Vartry. All of these places are named repeatedly in Finnegans Wake. Vartry water and the Roundwood reservoir are also invoked in Ulysses
on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes

            [from Eumaeus chapter]

            ... 

Did it flow? Yes. From Roundwood reservoir in county Wicklow… 
[from Ithaca chapter]

Driving through the area I also noted the name of the Sugarloaf Mountains which also appear in Ulysses and in FW: "would ondulate her shookerloft hat" (FW 243.28)


*   *   *


Let's circle back into County Dublin proper… 

On a trip back in June 2022, I was staying at the Royal Marine Hotel in the neighborhood of Dun Laoghaire, right on the coast overlooking Dublin Bay with Howth Head looming on the horizon. This is a historic hotel, and yes it is mentioned in the Wake as "ye olde marine hotel" (FW 30.16).

One stop away on the DART train headed south from Dun Laoghaire will take you to Sandycove, where the Joyce Tower and museum is located. I visited the Joyce Tower, otherwise known as Martello Tower number 11, in late June of 2022. I was actually there visiting the tower at the same time as the Joyce blogger Peter Chrisp and his wife and we all hung out for an afternoon.

Sandycove, Dublin



I was amazed with the Sandycove Martello Tower. A resonant space, it felt like a giant stone seashell echoing the nearby roaring waves of the scenic rocky seacoast, a poignant Joycean shrine. Ideal omphalos for Ulysses. What stood out to me being inside the tower space where Joyce, and his friends Gogarty and Trench would've stayed for a few historic nights in September of 1904, was the realization that Joyce stayed there because he was otherwise basically homeless, but then he had fled in fear after Gogarty fired a shot from a revolver near his head when he was sleeping. Being in that resonant echoey interior of the stone tower space it was noticeable how that revolver blast must've scared the living shit out of the young Joyce. I could feel that there.

The stone sea shell fort by the sea also contains a library of Joyce-related books and a collection of artifacts. Included in that batch of materials was a letter Joyce wrote to Gogarty in the summer of 1904 and signed "Stephen Dedalus." I remember one of the things that struck me among the artifacts was a trunk that had belonged to Joyce. It seemed like that thing must've been important for the itinerant author, lugging around notes, scraps, vital books, papers, notebooks in trunkfuls, in a trusty archive, like this was his version of the internet. This was his version of Dropbox or a data storage cloud. A portable storehouse of his important stuff, which he must've lugged around in his many travels and different homes. Joyce once wrote a letter to a friend asking him to retrieve a briefcase filled with notes and ship it to him: "In this briefcase I have lodged the written symbols of the languid sparks which flashed at times across my soul." (see p. 277 of Selected Letters, ed. Ellmann)

You can see the trunk at the Joyce Tower's excellent website here: https://joycetower.ie/collection/artefacts/jtaa_0085-james-joyces-cabin-trunk-c 

                                                                Credit to JoyceTower.ie



Joyce's wallet is there too. I like that custom crafted symbol of the golden triangle with the initials JJ in the middle. Pretty incredible to see.


credit to JoyceTower.ie



Also in the Joyce tower, among many interesting documents and artifacts encased in glass there was a piece of paper with Joyce's handwritten drafts for lines in FW, an original manuscript. Check it out:





All of these lines ended up in the final text of Finnegans Wake. You can see Joyce was drafting out lines, words, different versions of a passage on a piece of stationery from Shakespeare and Co. The paper is undated (just says "May") but this would've been when he was drafting the Shaun chapters so it was likely May of 1924 in Paris. Looking at Joyce's letters I think I confirmed: June 1924 in a letter to Harriet Weaver, Joyce quotes these lines in a letter sent from Victoria Palace Hotel where Joyce was living at the time (V.P.H. the cryptic letters are mentioned multiple times in FW, it must've been a place where Joyce was especially productive in his working on the Wake).

Here's what Joyce wrote on the sheet and where this material ended up in the published book: 

"with half a glance of Irish friskey from under
the shag of his parallel brows"
(appears on FW 470.32-33)

"my soamheis brother" (FW 452.22)
[you can practically see Joyce chewing on and crafting this phrase---so-am-he-is brother while making a pun on Siamese twins, he mentions this in 27 June 1924 letter to HSW]

"amstophere" (FW 452.01)

"walk while you have the night for morn, light breakfast bringer, morroweth whereon every past shall full fost sleep" (FW 473.23-4) [these are the closing lines of book III.2]



*   *   *

I have moved to Dublin to have it out with you,
majestic Shade, You whom I read so well
so many years ago,
did I read your lesson right? did I see through
your phases to the real? your heaven, your hell
did I enquire properly into?
- John Berryman, Dream Songs #312

These lines quoted from the poet John Berryman from his Dream Songs are often interpreted by critics to be about Yeats. On the other hand, this is likely regarding Joyce, as the esteemed Joyce scholar Katherine Ebury has written an insightful article detailing the many Joyce references in the Dream Songs and Berryman's deep interest in Joyce, including when the poet embarked on his own voyage to Dublin where he paid a visit to the Joyce Tower in Sandycove, bringing along a photographer who captured the scene (see the article for pics and more info). 

The spectator in Dublin encounters not one Martello Tower but several along the coast, like stone sentinels. They are all numbered. See Martello towers in greater Dublin area. An old, mossy, medieval sentinel tower stands on the island off of Howth called Ireland's Eye. I was really struck by the appearance of that tower on Ireland's Eye, especially as glimpsed from the Howth Castle area.

That one on Ireland's Eye is designated Martello tower number 3 North. Built in 1803 or 1804 to ward off Napoleonic invasion. Beyond the famous Joyce tower at Sandycove in the south, further down the coast is the Martello Ten tower in Dalkey. Owned by a friend and supporter of this blog, Martello Ten is an incredible historical site, I once had the privilege of getting to spend a few days there. The Joyce Sandycove tower is visible from atop Martello Ten. The Sandycove tower is the omphalos naval point in Ulysses, and I've now come to think of the Martello Ten in Dalkey as Wake Tower, dedicated to Joyce's even grander ode to Dublin and Ireland. 

From the Martello Ten in Dalkey you can see out across the water to Dalkey Island which also has a Martello tower looking back, along with the ruins of an old monastery, a glimpse across centuries. The Dalkey Island tower is Martello Tower number 9. I don't often see Dalkey Island mentioned as must-visit spot on a tour of Dublin, but it's definitely one of my favorite places I encountered. The little island has wild goats, and you're provided with a fantastic view of the Vico Road across the water.

Martello Tower on Dalkey Island.






*   *   *

"Treetown Castle under Lynne. Rivapool? Hod a brieck on it! But its piers eerie, its span spooky, its toll but a till, its parapets all peripateting." (FW 266.04)
    
"Eblinn" (FW 264.15)
 
"A phantom city"   (FW 264.19)

 

"Libnud" (FW 600.11)

*   *   *


"Each day, and each hour of the day, he thought of Ireland."
- Philippe Soupault describing his friend Joyce 

In part 2, I had been trying to figure out why Joyce stayed away from Ireland for so long, never returning again after the summer of 1912, and yet constantly thinking about, writing about, talking about Ireland, seemingly. 

And now I realize more and more that he could not go back, he would absolutely have been in danger if he went back. See my post about Evil Days and the friends of Joyce's who were killed during the violence of the Irish War for Independence. After 1922 and the establishment of the Irish Free State, Joyce still wouldn't go back to Ireland because he felt under threat for the scandalousness of his famous book Ulysses and how it depicted Ireland, maybe the nationalists might've considered him not loyal enough to the cause. On top of that, it was in 1922 when Nora brought the children to Ireland and they got caught in a cross-fire shootout. 

A letter from Joyce to T.S. Eliot (the publisher of Finnegans Wake in the UK) recounts that violent incident of 1922 and serves as a good coda to this exploration of Joyce and his connection to Dublin. 

JJ letter to TS Eliot Jan 1, 1932
I have been through a bad time telephoning and wiring to Dublin about my father. To my great grief he died on Tuesday. He had an intense love for me and it adds to my grief and remorse that I did not go to Dublin to see him for so many years. I kept him constantly under the illusion that I would come and was always in correspondence with him but an instinct which I believed in held me back from going, much as I longed to. Dubliners was banned there in 1912 on the advice of a person who was assuring me at the time of his great friendship. When my wife and children went there in 1922, against my wish, they had to flee for their lives, lying flat on the floor of a railway carriage while rival parties shot at each other across their heads [...] I did not feel myself safe and my wife and son opposed my going.


More than 90 years after that letter was written, I'm grateful for the safe and welcoming city that Dublin is today and for the time I got to spend there exploring the city's rich culture and history and the endless elements and connections with Joyce's art and life. 


*

To be continued, beyond Dyoublong... 

Sunday, February 15, 2026

"Evil Days": Joyce and State Violence

(pic source: By WD Hogan, Public Domain)

The figure pictured above was a member of the Royal Irish Constabulary (R.I.C.) Auxiliary forces, a paramilitary unit sent into Ireland in 1920 as a counter-insurgency force to brutalize, intimidate, and murder Irish people. They brutally murdered one of Joyce's friends. The Royal Irish Constabulary (R.I.C.), their Auxiliary forces and the so-called Black and Tans are often conflated in historical accounts, and they all appear frequently in the pages of Finnegans Wake in various forms. These were notoriously violent, heavily armed militia troops, jaded WW1 veterans hired as constables to terrorize the Irish. The Black and Tans seem much like I.C.E. in the United States today. Poorly trained recruits from the army, even their attire unseemly, whereas ICE agents wear masks and plain-clothes gear, the Black and Tans got their nickname due to their makeshift attire, since the R.I.C. had a shortage of uniforms, these recruits wore black tunics and khaki pants. They were often recruited out of jails, the more psychotic and violent, the better. The RIC, their Auxiliary troops, and the Black and Tans creep up throughout Finnegans Wake, here are just a few examples:

Saw his black and tan man-o'-war. FW 46.14

          Blech and tin soldies FW 563.31 

          mulattomilitiaman FW 354.10

la garde auxiliaire  FW 471.30

         Mr Black Atkins and you tanapanny troopertwos FW 588.18 

R.I.C. Lipmasks  FW 221.27 

          R.U.C's liaison officer    FW 529.27

his exution with all the fluors of sparse in the royal Irish vocabulary FW 86.01


The Black and Tans were notorious for taking revenge on civilians, such as when they fired on a crowd at a football game in Croke Park in Dublin on Nov 21, 1920, fourteen people were killed including three children, it became known as Bloody Sunday. The shooting was reprisal for the IRA (Irish Republican Army) having assassinated several British intelligence agents and RIC officers that same morning. Bloody Sunday and the Croke Park massacre appear in FW, "Kroukaparka" (FW 176.33) and "croakpartridge" (FW 301.30), and "that surprisingly bludgeony Unity Sunday." (FW 176.20)

With the state-sponsored murders of two Americans by lawless ICE and Border Patrol agents earlier this year, and with my continuing reading and research of Joyce, this stuff has been on my mind lately. Two of Joyce's schoolmates were executed by British forces in Ireland during the Irish War for Independence (sometimes referred to as the "Black and Tan War").

One of Joyce's school friends was named George Clancy, he appears in Portrait as Davin, later he became the mayor of Limerick. He was the mayor when one night, the Black and Tans dragged him out of bed and summarily executed him in front of his family. This was in 1921. Joyce was remembering the shock of this almost 15 years later, in a letter to his son Giorgio 4 Feb 1935 he mentions "my poor friend George Clancy (Davin in Portrait). ... He was afterward Mayor of Limerick and was dragged out of bed by the Black and Tans in the night and shot in the presence of his wife." (Letters 1, Gilbert, p. 357) Read more about George Clancy and the Black and Tans.

Joyce's old friend Francis Sheehy-Skeffington was trying to be a peacemaker during the riots and looting that was occurring in the immediate aftermath of the Easter Rising of 1916. In the midst of the chaos, Skeffington was arrested by the British military, taken to the Portobello barracks, and summarily executed by a firing squad. He was still breathing after the first round so they shot him again. They placed his body in a sack and buried him in the yard of the Portobello barracks and never informed his family who went around Dublin searching for him. This unjust killing eventually led to criminal charges of the commanding officer who would plead insanity as a defense. 

Francis Sheehy-Skeffington (who put his wife's surname in front of his own) was a pacifist, feminist, vegetarian hippie with a beard. Joyce called him "Hairy Jaysus." A relentless activist, militant in spirit but anti-militarist in practice, Skeffington for much of his life was fiercely outspoken about the threat of British military force in Ireland. He also advocated for women's rights and equality, Joyce wrote him into Portrait as the character MacCann, and in Stephen Hero, he's introduced as "a serious young feminist." Joyce and Skeffington had collaborated to publish essays together in their university days, when Joyce wrote "The Day of the Rabblement."

A few interesting notes on Skeffington can be found in the annotations to FW: for example, Francis Skeffington had noted in his diary in 1903 that Joyce and others performed a charade of kaleidoscope as a collide-escape or "A collideorscape!" (FW 143.28) Seems the forces of state violence in Ireland in the first decades of the 20th century led some of its residents to collide or escape, and Skeffington collided while Joyce escaped. 

Skeffington had given to Joyce the nickname Joacax because he was always a jokester. A version of this nickname appears on FW 433: "Words taken in triumph... from the sufferant pen of our jocosus inkerman militant of the reed behind the ear." Jocosus Inkerman Militant = the initials JIM identify Jim Joyce.

Writing to Mary Kettle (maiden name Sheehy, she was married to Joyce's friend Thomas Kettle who also died in the war, and also appears in FW), who was the sister-in-law of Mr. Francis Sheehy-Skeffington, in Sept 1916 after his friend was murdered, Joyce wrote:

I am grieved to hear that so many misfortunes have fallen on your family in these evil days. - Joyce (Letters 1, p. 96)

Skeffington wrote a novel called In Dark and Evil Days and, as noted by scholar Greg Winston, Joyce in his letter honored his friend with an allusion to the title of his book, "in these evil days." Skeffington's book was considered politically radical and it was seized by British soldiers when they violently forced their way into his house after he was murdered. The book was published posthumously. 

Lots more information about all of this is available from the insightful book Joyce and Militarism (2012) by Greg Winston, see below:




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"Dope in Canorian words we've made. Spish from the Doc."

This line appears as a footnote on FW 287 and I've never seen much about it in the various sources of annotations. But it interests me for a few reasons. The use of the word "dope" is pretty dope considering this book was published in 1939. The footnote is attached to the word "preteriti" in a paragraph of Latin, the word "preterite" is frequently used by Thomas Pynchon in Gravity's Rainbow to refer to the marginalized masses. Here on FW 287 it's meant to call the attention of a crowd of listeners, to listen to a "Speech from the Dock" or "Spish from the Doc"---a reference to the last words spoken by Irish rebel Robert Emmet, who was executed by the British in 1803 after a failed uprising. 

A quote from the end of Emmet's "Speech from the Dock":

"Let my character and my motives repose in obscurity and peace, till other times and other men can do them justice."


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A marginal note on FW 306:

Enter the Cop and How.
Secures gubernant urbis terrorem.


The Latin translates to: axes govern the terror of the city. (Secures is the plural of securis, a hatchet or axe with sharp blade.) These are the axes carried by Lictors in Roman times---they carried the bundle of fasces with an axe, this is a reference to fascism, and a fascist police state. In "Ask Lictor Hackett" (FW 197.06) for example, Joyce compacted axe, hatchet, and the Lictor guardians carrying the ceremonial axe of authority. The bundled fasces with the axe represent the origins of Fascist symbolism. 

Look at the below pic of the Roman lictor, guardian of the Roman magistrates, holding the fasces with an axe, symbolizing rule by force. 




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In the midst of the battle/war chapter of the Wake, somebody calls the other a Fascist:
"Fadgest-fudgist!" (FW 323.23)

Later on in that same chapter we read:

"We insurrectioned and... 
before he could tell pullyirragun to parrylewis, I shuttm" (FW 352)

The pic at the top of this post with the R.I.C. auxiliary soldier holding a big gun, that's a Lewis machine gun, likely alluded to in this line, and it could also mean to invoke the name of Percy Wyndham Lewis, an opponent of Joyce who appears as an antagonist in FW.


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In the aftermath of the Easter Rising, while Joyce was living in exile in Zurich, a French news journal wrote to him requesting that he write an article about the tumultuous historical events going on in his home country. Joyce replied in the summer of 1918, declining the request.  

I'm translating from his 5 August 1918 letter written in French (see Letters 1, p. 118), in which Joyce replied that he didn't write articles anymore, he was instead devoted to crafting his humble art ("ma pauvre invention"):
the problem of my race is so complex that one needs all the means of a flexible art to sketch it—without ever resolving it....  I am constrained to express it through the scenes and characters of my own humble art.

Sunday, December 21, 2025

A Few Notable Books on Joyce and His Afterlives

Dust jacket art from James Joyce: A Life by Gabrielle Carey.


A big new book related to Joyce was published this year and was received well among the critics and fans alike. The book is actually the story of Joyce's most famous biographer, it's called Ellmann's Joyce: The Biography of a Masterpiece and Its Maker (2025) written by Zachary Leader, who has previously written literary biographies of Saul Bellow and Kingsley Amis. Leader's study of how Richard Ellmann's 1959 biography of Joyce set the standard for greatness in the form of literary biography was recently praised in reviews such as this one from Seamus Perry in the London Review of Books (you can read some interesting letters in reply to that review, too). I will check out Leader's book at some point. Reading Ellmann's big 960-page cinderblock years ago was pivotal for me in my initial pursuit of learning more about Joyce's life. Since then I've read several other biographies of Joyce. I really liked Gordon Bowker's James Joyce: A New Biography (2011), a very detailed walkthrough of Joyce's itinerant life, I found it useful in some of my recent writings and research.

Among the shorter biographies of Joyce (under 200 pages) I'd like to recommend a few that I read in the past year:

James Joyce: Critical Lives Series (Reaktion Books, 2006) by Andrew Gibson 

A very rewarding and informative read. The author Andrew Gibson, who also wrote the book Joyce's Revenge (2002), delivers a fresh approach to documenting Joyce's life which emphasizes the Irishness of Joyce's entire project. This entry in the "Critical Lives" series starts off by stating that the indispensable efforts of scholars like Ellmann, with his gigantic collection of biographical details, and Hugh Kenner with his showcase of the vast multiverse of international, infinitely theoretical Joyce, have taken our knowledge of Joyce extremely far, but Gibson positions his approach by declaring those prior works of Joycean scholarship had not adequately emphasized the why of Joyce's mission nor how entirely Ireland-focused his artistic project was. What if Joyce's whole mission was based on celebrating his home city and fulfilling the destiny of the traditional exiled Irish monk crafting one intricate labyrinthine codex after another? Gibson emphasizes that while Joyce has become a global phenomenon celebrated for aspects of universal inclusivity and coexistence of many ideas, approaches, backgrounds, etc, his work can also be said to always "everywhere be addressing Irish themes and Irish questions." (p. 16) I found myself agreeing with Gibson's assertions and arguments. As I've said before, in my experience nothing sheds more light on Joyce's major works than visiting and learning about Ireland. 

What I really appreciated (and what makes me very intrigued to read more of Andrew Gibson's work) was his insightful attention to the nuances and complexities of Joyce's relationship to his home country during the last few decades of his life. Those years (mid-1910s to the late 1930s), Joyce's most productive stretch as a writer, coincided with violent and highly significant events in the history of Ireland and the Irish War for Independence, and Joyce remained an exile from his home country until his death. The question of Joyce's politics is complex, as Gibson notes, because while he seemed to harbor the hopes of a united independent Ireland free of British rule, he was not exactly a supporter of the Irish nationalist movement of the time, and tended to stray away from their extremes. There is a far more detailed and clearly explained analysis of the concurrence of the birth of the Irish Free State (1922-1937) and Joyce's literary career in Gibson's book. You should read it. It's as informed and fresh of a take on the biography of Joyce as you can find anywhere, packed into an approachable short volume. 


James Joyce: A Life (Penguin, 1999) by Edna O'Brien 

This biography of Joyce from the Irish novelist Edna O'Brien is substantive and well-written. Edna O'Brien was first inspired to be a writer when she initially encountered Joyce's work. In her take on Joyce's biography, she seems to have a knack for capturing the humanity of Joyce the person. She seemed to get him. In this short book she covers the main highlights of Joyce's life seemingly without leaving much out, while also touching on many of the figures in Joyce's circle who were important catalysts in bringing his creations to the public (especially women like Sylvia Beach, Harriet Weaver, Maria Jolas, etc). But what stood out to me about this book was how O'Brien touches on certain intimate details that reveal much. Little things like how, in the depths of his blindness and eye troubles, Joyce would identify guests to his home by their voice. Or how in love he was with his wife Nora, a country girl from the west of Ireland, like Edna O'Brien was. If you wanted to read a concise, entertaining biography of Joyce which covers the main points without getting too bogged down in history, politics, or interpretive theories, this thoughtful portrait from an Irish novelist would be a safe bet. 


James Joyce: A Life (Arden, 2023) by Gabrielle Carey 

This artistic, poetic, whimsical walkthrough of Joyce's life is a very entertaining and enjoyable book in a slim volume. A perfect example of why it is useful to have different approaches to the task of documenting the life of an artist like Joyce. The art of biography is like the art of translation, you can take the basic structure and key details then run with it in a creative way, kinda like doing a cover of a song. This author, Gabrielle Carey, hosted a Finnegans Wake reading group in Australia for many years (Carey passed away in 2023), so she writes from the perspective of one who has been deeply engaged with Joyce's quirkiest text while incorporating the perspectives of others. It's a fun book, with plenty of detail despite being fairly short (140 pgs), including some facts and details you won't find in the books mentioned above (for example, she talks about the medicinal effects of reading Finnegans Wake, and notes the TikTok trend that was going around of people talking about reading Finnegans Wake helping them with mental health struggles). Short chapters, no chunky paragraphs, terse sentences, often quoting from Joyce's texts or his letters without getting too caught up in the details of citations, the book takes a "bower bird approach" as the author describes it. It's a very worthwhile and fun read.


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A couple other books I've been reading which I haven't finished yet, but which deserve to be mentioned here. I've been focusing on biographical studies of Joyce's life, these other books are in the realm of Joyce's afterlives.

Straight Outta Dublin: James Joyce and Robert Anton Wilson (2025) by Eric Wagner & R. Michael Johnson

This book examines the influence of the works of Joyce on the work of the Robert Anton Wilson, especially focusing on Finnegans Wake. The author Eric Wagner has been hosting Finnegans Wake reading groups for many years and has previously written a guide to the works of Robert Anton Wilson. Here, in a fragmented and digressive approach drawing from a wide array of disciplines, Wagner indulges in in-depth discussions of the Wake, drawing on the insights of John Bishop, Hugh Kenner, Joseph Campbell, while also venturing into other modernists like Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot, and thinkers like Alfred Korzybski and Wilhelm Reich. In the latter half of the book, R. Michael Johnson (otherwise known as the OG, author of a great substack) provides a detailed survey of the Joyce elements that appear across all of RAW's books.  


Chapel Perilous: The Life & Thought Crimes of Robert Anton Wilson (2024) by Gabriel Kennedy

A perfect supplement to the above is this recent biography of Robert Anton Wilson, going through the interesting and at times harrowing life of the countercultural author. From a young man in Brooklyn during the jazz era in the 1950s, to being involved in Civil Rights protests as a teenager, working odd jobs before trying to be a full-time writer and raise a family. I like that the book even had a list of RAW's known addresses in the back, including his multi-year sojourn in Dublin in the footsteps of Joyce, and then his later years in Santa Cruz where for many years he hosted a Finnegans Wake reading group. 


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As a bonus, here's one more notable book I've just started reading but haven't gotten very far with yet. It's a unique text called Peripatet (2019) by Grant Maierhofer, with typographical experiments in the vein of Quentin Fiore's work on Marshall McLuhan's books. A deliberately weird and obscure, very intriguing book, it is on one level a document of the author's exploration of Finnegans Wake. As Maierhofer has written, "I read Finnegans Wake... as an ode to forms, forms explored by Joyce himself and referenced throughout the text; forms shattered and rendered useless to traditional interpretive means by intuitive, heartily experimental—almost spiritually so—pages of linguistic forest fires simultaneously enacting and subverting their own interpretation... "
You can read more about the author's approach to reading Finnegans Wake here.

Here's a look inside Peripatet:





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Have you read any of these books yet? What did you think? Let me know in in the comments. 

Thursday, May 29, 2025

The Late Show with Stephen Colbert roasted FWATX reading group on TV, and quoted me

Stephen Colbert, offering a prayer to the Good Book (FW).

Last week, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert on CBS did a segment roasting the Finnegans Wake Reading Group of Austin, Texas (yes, our group, the one this very blog is about) and he even quoted my words from the recent NPR article about the group. That really happened. Colbert quoted me, on national television, talking about Finnegans Wake.

Watch the clip below (starting at 3:55):



There are layers to the joke here because Stephen Colbert, who is a proud descendant of Irish immigrants, is no lightweight Joycean, in fact, he has been performing passages from Ulysses at Bloomsday events for decades. 







While he's making fun of Joyce's craziest book, he knows of what he speaks, and so he is either in on the joke and making fun of himself too, or, it could be this is Colbert's way of staking his claim that Ulysses is the superior of Joyce's major novels. Maybe a bit of both. 

Either way it's amazing that Colbert was roasting our Finnegans Wake reading group on TV. Just to even see the book cover of Finnegans Wake appear on television is extremely cool! They just awakened millions of new Finnegans, gave birth to new HCEs and ALPs. Here Comes Everybody. 

An added dimension to the joke is that the other subjects Colbert talks about in the segment, like vagina-scented candles, astrology, poop jokes, frauds, pyramids, Indiana Jones, hoarding, etc all of that is essentially akin to what's encountered in reading Finnegans Wake

What's also a funny connection for me is I once encountered Stephen Colbert in person. True story: I was on a tour of the Tower of London on Thanksgiving Day back in 2008 and I happened to be on the same tour with Stephen Colbert and his family. I recognized him and he noticed that but I played it cool. All these years later, and he was quoting me on his tv show.

I've been a fan of Colbert's comedy since way back when he was a regular on the show Strangers with Candy with Amy Sedaris. I enjoyed his time on the Daily Show, and of course his long-running satirical show The Colbert Report was iconic. I find myself cracking up any time I think of the titles of some of his ridiculous books, like I Am America (And So Can You!) (2007) and the prescient America Again: Re-becoming The Greatness We Never Weren't (2012).

A bit more about his Joycean bonafides, from a Kirkus Reviews article: 

Colbert is a longtime admirer of Joyce. When he published his 2012 children’s book I Am a Pole (And So Can You!), he arranged to have the manuscript displayed next to the Ulysses manuscript at the Rosenbach [museum in Philadelphia].

And in March, he recalled how Joyce’s masterpiece landed him in trouble during the 2010 Vancouver Olympics at the Ireland House. “There was a stage up there with a traditional band playing and they had a football game on,” Colbert said. “I went upstage and I said, ‘Who wants to celebrate Irish culture!’ And I took out a copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses. There was a riot, I had to be hustled out by security.”

Back in 2022, on St. Patrick's Day, Colbert tweeted this:





Maybe one of these St. Patty's Days he'll get so drunk that he'll make it through all of Finnegans Wake and then I'll add him to The Pantheon of Finnegans Woke.

Wednesday, May 21, 2025

Interview with Texas Standard (on KUT Austin NPR station) + other recent podcasts


Last week I was interviewed by the Texas Standard radio program on KUT, Austin's NPR station, talking about the Finnegans Wake Reading Group of Austin which has been gathering to discuss Joyce's greatest book for more than 12 years now. Audio clips from the interview with KUT's reporter Sean Saldaña appeared here, with a brief article and some pics from the group's history. The premise of the article, of course, is that we've been meeting for a very long time, reading one or two pages per meeting, and we're not nearly finished with the book yet. 

The piece has been shared on social media, garnering some witty responses. My favorite ones are the comments observing that the readers in the picture look like a deadlocked jury trying to reach a decision on a tough case. That pic is from back in the golden era of our reading group when we used to have big gatherings at the Irish Consulate in Austin (eternal thanks to Adrian Farrell, Claire McCarthy, and Paul Breen for all their support over the years). We would also have meetings at the (now defunct) bookstore Malvern Books and they'd put up a big sign in the window advertising our meetings, which is also shown in the article. The KUT interview was a fortunate full-circle cipher completion moment for me because Malvern Books back in those days used to advertise our reading group meetings on KUT, and new people joined the group because of those ads. Nowadays, our meetings are all on Zoom, and our attendees come from far beyond central Texas, although there are still plenty of original members who still participate. 

As I alluded to in the interview, I originally started the group in Austin because I had attended a similar group in Venice, California (the Marshall McLuhan/Finnegans Wake book club run by Gerry Fialka) when I lived in San Diego for a few years, a story that was originally told in The Guardian piece about the Venice Wake group published in late 2023. It's always pretty amusing seeing the response of the general public to these news pieces because to most people it seems super bizarre that a book club would be so focused on a close reading of one book for so long, and yet in the galaxy of Joyce reading groups it's pretty standard practice. I recently shared links to several active Finnegans Wake reading groups around the world, many of whom have been meeting to read the same book for years. 

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Here seems like a good place to share some other podcasts I appeared on in the past six months, again discussing Joyce and Finnegans Wake

  • Back in February, to celebrate Joyce's birthday, Gerry Fialka of the Venice Wake reading group organized a panel discussion to talk about Finnegans Wake, the panel featuring some of the most accomplished and prolific Joyce scholars in the world including Sam Slote (Trinity College Dublin), Tim Conley (Brock University), Finn Fordham (Royal Holloway Univ. of London), Roy Benjamin (Borough of Manhattan Community College), as well as myself. It was a huge honor for me to be on a panel with scholars I admire and whose work I have such great respect for, and we got into a pretty lively discussion covering many topics over more than 2 hours. Go check that out HERE.
  • Back in December, I took part in a panel discussion with a big group of several Joyce enthusiasts from around the world as part of the Maybe Night event. This panel was organized by the great artist and Wakean Bob Campbell, and among the many interesting panelists were Toby Malone (from the excellent podcast WAKE), Eric Wagner (who recently published Straight Outta Dublin, a book on Robert Anton Wilson and James Joyce), a few folks from the Ukrainian Wake reading group (including Linda Lotiel whose "Mind Map" illustrations of the Wake are phenomenal), the writer and esoteric thinker Oz Fritz, the creator of FWEET Raphael Slepon, and others, for the winter solstice 2024 event, go check out that video HERE.


Stay tuned!