Assigned reading (8 dialog items [] plus 182 notes) [secondary] [McH]
Some 50 instances like "riverpool" of Ls and Rs being swapped have been found (along with 40 for Ps and Ks). "sturk" is the first of 40 references to LeFanu's Dublin novel "House by the Churchyard".
[♬ Let Erin Remember] melody aka "Moddereen Rue" (The Red Fox)
A touching example of the lengths Joyce assumed (correctly) we'd go to to unpack his meanings: "Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering rue..." has been presumptively traced to a book by Chateaubriand, "We passed close to the tomb of a child, that served as a boundary for two nations." But this image has been abstracted to almost nothing, and so could have been traced only via a surviving note in notebook VI.B5 "limit of 2 races child's grave" exxed in red "(r)" like the next one about T&I being separated and reunited.
"Pride, O pride, thy prize!" echoes Parnell's "When you sell, get my price". Mutt's "Fiatfuit!" positions him as a druid conceding victory to Patrick.
"alp on earwig, drukn on ild" may be air-earth-water-fire, along with a slew of dual opposites.
FDV: "Jute— Simply because he dumptied the wholebarrow of rubbages on to soil?
Mutt— Just a puddingstone at a riverpool.
Jute— Lord a marshy! With what for a noise like?
Mutt— Somular to a bull in a Clompturf. I could snore with my owth by the neck I am sutton on O'Flynn.
Jute— Boiledoil for me if I can forestand you norse noise as you make out of it.
Mutt— Rest a while. Half a look onward you will see [...] Thousand & one livestories netherfallen here. They are tombed to the mound."
The 1001 Arabian Nights get 20 mentions to replace this FDV one.
Mysteries: icefloe?
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JUTE: Sumply because, as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstoryshortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubbages on to soil here?
ReplyDeleteMUTT: Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a riverpool.
JUTE: Load allmarshy!
Wid wad for a norse like?
MUTT: Somular with a bull on a clompturf.
Rooks roarum rex roome!
I could snore to him of the spumy horn, with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton on, did Brian d'O Flinn.
JUTE: Boiledoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly forstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a patwhot as your rutterdamrotter, onheard of and umscene!
Gut aftermeal!
See you doomed.
MUTT: Quite agreem.
Bussave a sec.
Walk a dun blink roundward this allbutisle and you skull see how olde ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the Saltings, where wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of signory icefloe was from his Inn the Bygning to whose Finishthere Punct.
Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr.
Mearmerge two races, swete and brack.
Morthering rue.
Hither, craching estuards, they are in surgence: hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce.
Countlessness of livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of whirlwords.
Now are all tombed to the mound, ishges to ishges, erde from erde.
Pride, O pride, thy prize!
JUTE: 'Stench!
MUTT: Fiatfuit!
Hereinunder lyethey.
Llarge by the smal an' everynight life olso th'estrange, babbylone the greatgrandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig, drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound seemetery which iz leebez luv.