Ulysses and the Metamorphosis of Stephen DedalusBucknell University Press, 2001 - 222 Seiten This study makes the case that the novel's intricate self-consciousness begins as a very recognizable story: the 'Kunstlerroman.' In such a reading, Ulysses emerges as the story of the time-obsessed Stephen Dedalus, who desires to compose a masterful chronicle that will one day rival the timeless narratives of Ovid and Homer. McBride's analysis treats at length Stephen's poetic theories and compositions, examinig them as clear forerunners to the novel that the reader is reading. The culminating point is the claim that the figures of Leopold and Molly Bloom may be elaborate fictions created by Stephen. |
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Seite 12
... Molly — but , equally important , Molly's closing creation and decreation of Stephen . I am aware that this inverted hierarchy , which defines Stephen as , es- sentially , the " Author " and Molly and Bloom as subordinate , puppetlike ...
... Molly — but , equally important , Molly's closing creation and decreation of Stephen . I am aware that this inverted hierarchy , which defines Stephen as , es- sentially , the " Author " and Molly and Bloom as subordinate , puppetlike ...
Seite 25
... Molly's monologue serves as a cul- minating event . Molly is Stephen's final creation . But , as chapter 6 , " The Circle of ' Penelope ' : Weaving and Unweaving the Artist's Image , " under- scores , there is one last Sabellian turn .
... Molly's monologue serves as a cul- minating event . Molly is Stephen's final creation . But , as chapter 6 , " The Circle of ' Penelope ' : Weaving and Unweaving the Artist's Image , " under- scores , there is one last Sabellian turn .
Seite 48
... Molly . Nowhere is the diuturnity of great literature more evident than in the numerous recapitulations of Homer that Stephen hears . In " Telemachus " Buck cites , possibly verbatim , a poet who has been dead two thousand years : " Efi ...
... Molly . Nowhere is the diuturnity of great literature more evident than in the numerous recapitulations of Homer that Stephen hears . In " Telemachus " Buck cites , possibly verbatim , a poet who has been dead two thousand years : " Efi ...
Seite 59
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Inhalt
29 | |
38 | |
Coming Events Cast Their Shadows Before Stephens Poetics and the Creation of Ulysses | 61 |
A Perfect Wreath The Nostos as the Novels Source | 99 |
Beyond the Modality of the Audible The Silent Subtext in Stephens Story About Bloom | 124 |
The Circle of Penelope Weaving and Unweaving the Artists Image | 172 |
Notes | 185 |
Bibliography | 204 |
Index | 217 |
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
actual adultery Aeolus allusions Ann Hathaway appears Aristotelian Aristotle Aristotle's artist Boötes Boylan Buck Calypso Cambridge chapter character chronicle Circe clock create creation critical cuckold death diegesis Dublin Eccles Street emphasis added epic episode Eumaeus eyes fabulous artifice fact father fiction Gerty Gifford and Seidman Hamlet Homer hour Ibid imagination ineluctable modality Ithaca James Joyce Joyce's Ulysses Künstlerroman Leopold Bloom Lestrygonians letter looking MacCabe metafictional Metamorphoses Molly Molly's morning myth mythopoeic narration narrative Nausicaa Nelson's Pillar Nestor Nostos noted novel odyssey Ovid Ovid's Oxford parable Penelope phrase Pill Lane Plums poet poetry Portrait possible as possible postcreation potential protagonist Proteus reader reading Riquelme role scene Scylla and Charybdis seems self-begetting Sirens soap Stephen Dedalus Stephen Hero Stephen's story story's syllables tale telling temporal tion Ulysses University Press vision watch wife William Shakespeare women wonder words work's write York young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 64 - Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor ; So sinks the daystar in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Seite 63 - Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted.
Seite 152 - MR LEOPOLD BLOOM ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liver slices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencod's roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.
Seite 12 - We shall never know, for the good reason that writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin. Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject slips away, the negative where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing.
Seite 19 - What's in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours. A star, a daystar, a firedrake rose at his birth. It shone by day in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the night, and by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the recumbent constellation which is the signature of his initial among the stars.
Seite 87 - Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.
Seite 154 - Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that. Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit.
Seite 44 - Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting.
Seite 44 - Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of wetted ashes.
Seite 130 - Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley Road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a girl with gold hair on the wind.