SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN “SIRENS” By Andrea Yang
SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN “SIRENS”
By Andrea Yang
Ulysses is unique in its evocation of a rich soundscape. Author James Joyce renders a sensual immersion in episode eleven, “Sirens”; as he puts it, “It’s in the silence after you feel you hear” (228). Sounds and imagery jump out at the readers; one sees, hears, and feels the characters’ experiences and internal monologues. This essay deconstructs some of the rhetorical devices and poetic diction that advance narration, communicate emotion, and reinforce the musicality of the novel. Like the sound of the sirens in the Odyssey, music represents sexuality and temptation.
“Sirens” begins with snippets of phrases which, like musical notes, make up the textual equivalent of an overture. Two leitmotifs interwoven throughout the episode are the “jingle jaunted jingling” of Blazes Boylan’s carriage on his way to see his mistress, Molly Bloom, and the “tap-tap-tap” of the blind piano tuner’s cane as he retrieves his tuning fork. These two sounds are interspersed among the other actions in the chapter in order to mark the progress of the characters’ respective journeys while also lending a recurring rhythm to the episode. This repeated tune reminds the reader of what’s going through the protagonist Leopold Bloom’s mind as it calls attention to Boylan’s affair with Bloom’s wife, Molly. The “tap” could also refer to the hoofs of the horse trotting on the road or Boylan knocking on Molly’s door—both lead to the affair. The frequency of this beat escalates from line 1084 to 1234, indicating tension as well as impending denouement. Onomatopoeia both sets the underlying rhythm that draws an aural premonition to Molly’s infidelity and contributes to producing a more realistic speech. Many phrases from this chapter only make sense when being read out loud. The vocal aspect of Joyce’s language constructs an immersive experience for readers of the text.
Joyce is attentive even to the pronunciation of every letter, using alliteration and consonance to establish motion. Evinced in the phrase “[h]e puffed a pungent plumy blast,” the words themselves perform the act of puffing (Joyce 221). Bloom describes the barmaid Miss Douce’s flirtatious movements by contrasting the sibilant /s/ sound with the plosive /p/ sound: “her thumb and finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down [emphasis mine]” (235). The four “s”s perfectly counter the four “p”s to echo the intensifying and softening action, all the while heightening Miss Douce’s charm. As time approaches four o’clock, Bloom becomes increasingly anxious about Boylan’s assignation with Molly. He remarks, “[The coin] clanged. Clock clacked” (218). The crisp /k/ sound combines with the liquid /l/ sound, creating a sense of quick, tense movement that conveys the passage of time. Towards the end of the episode, Joyce tastefully characterizes Bloom’s gassy feeling as “wind wound round inside” (326). Air naturally comes out of one’s mouth as one’s lips curl into a small, tight circle to pronounce the /w/ and /ou/ sounds, mimicking the sound of the wind. Sound devices like alliteration make Ulysses an interactive and comical read.
The sonic eloquence extends to a reduction of words into syllables which dramatizes Bloom’s restless inner monologue. Seeing Boylan’s jaunting car on the street reminds Bloom of Boylan’s meeting with Molly. “At four she.” Bloom’s thought is suddenly cut short because it’s impossible for his mind to go on consummating the affair. As a result, “Bloom smiles quickly goes. Afternoon” is replaced by “Bloo smi qui go. Ternoon” (217). Bloom’s suppressed anxiety is revealed through the truncated, ungrammatical phrasing. In the restaurant, when he is writing the letter to Martha Clifford, his secret amorous correspondent, he is still preoccupied with thoughts on Molly cheating on him with Boylan. Thus he is unable to concentrate on his writing: “It is utterl imposs. Underline imposs. To write today” (229). The choppy syllabic breakdown does not impede the flow but rather augments the sense of urgency as the readers’ minds jog along with Bloom’s internal turmoil.
On the other end of the spectrum, Joyce sometimes stretches and expands words so that they visually represent their denotation. The “endlessnessnessness……” demonstrates the everlasting effect of Simon Dedalus’s song “M’appari” (227). The last note of the song remains to breathe and vibrate along with the numerous “s”s. In “wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair,” Joyce lengthens the word to depict Molly’s wavy, long hair, using the protruding “y”s and “h”s to form the undulating shape of the curls (228). Moreover, whereas the six extra vowels in “Waaaaaaalk” make the imperative more pressing, the condensed “Yrfmstbyes,” as opposed to “Yeah must be yes,” furthers Bloom’s agitation (235). Bloom’s stream of consciousness is often interrupted by these unusual word forms to reflect the impact of any external stimulus that inevitably triggers his fear of losing his wife to Boylan. Through shape-shifting the words, Joyce articulates thoughts and ideas beyond the confines of the standard English language.
Joyce also plays with puns in Bloom’s observations to multiply the meaning of any given word. For instance, entranced by Miss Douce’s rose that rises and falls with every breath, Bloom notes, “At each slow satiny heaving bosom’s wave (her heaving embon) red rose rose slowly sank red rose” (235). The double sense of the word “rose,” thrice repeated, adds an internal rhythm to the surges within the sentence. The words cast a romantic overtone; they seem to ripple with Miss Douce’s heaving bosom to entice the readers as well. Another example is Bloom’s comment on Pat: “Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Hee hee hee hee…A waiter is he.” (230). The reiterated “wait” hints at Bloom’s own passive waiting for his wife to finish her affair. At the same time, Molly waits for her lover’s arrival. All the anxious waiting builds up to Bloom’s nervous chortle, “hee hee hee,” which leads to his association with the pronoun “he.” The juxtaposition of homonyms allows for the expression of different meanings produced by the same sound.
Joyce grounds music in the human body in order to illustrate that seeing and hearing are inextricable experiences. He tends to focus on individual body parts of the characters utilizing synecdoche. Miss Douce is described as having “listening lips and eyes” (216); her “wet lips tittered” (211), “bust ahumm[ed]” (218). Similarly, Molly’s vocalization is portrayed through parts of her body: her “[l]ips laughing,” “throat warbling” (226). When the narration zooms in on the moving lips and swaying hips, attention is drawn to the physicality of the female body. Readers are subjected to Bloom’s point of view as he sexualizes the women due to the seductive quality of their voice. Parallel to the “Sirens” episode of the Odyssey, men are captivated by the intoxicating power of music. In Joyce’s schema, however, the sirens are everywhere. They include both the giggling barmaids and the singing old men in the Ormond Hotel bar. “His hands and feet sing too,” mulls Bloom of Dedalus’s performance (225). Once again, the singer is encapsulated in his expressive, moving limbs as though everything he does is music.
Furthermore, the characters are often associated with instruments that physically take part in the musical composition of the chapter. Each is assigned a signature instrument that reflects their personality: “Dollard bassooned attack” (222), “Bored Bloom tambourined gently” (229), “Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose” (236). Instead of playing the instruments, the characters become the instruments, generating music with their bodies. Every movement is recorded as music-making to highlight the universality of music. From Ben Dollard’s sonorous voice to Bloom’s dull jitter to Simon’s stirring song, the men add layers of timbre to the symphony. Additionally, the female body is compared to a vessel that comports music. In the metaphor “[b]ody of white woman, a flute alive,” Bloom refers to Molly giving her body to Boylan (234). Consequently, sex is equivalent to music played by Boylan via Molly’s body. It’s not merely coincidental that Joyce employs idioms, such as “fit as a fiddle” and “a rift in the lute.” (326). With the woodwinds (Dollard and Molly—bassoon & flute), brass (Simon—trumpet, horn), percussion (Bloom—tambourine), and strings (fiddle, lute), the orchestra is complete. The juxtaposition of various strands of voices and sounds blurs any temporal and spatial restrictions, resulting in a harmonized whole.
Joyce enables the readers to “seehear” by emphasizing not only the characters’ corporeality but also the materiality of sounds. In “Sirens,” sound takes a physical form. While Miss Douce “syrupped with her voice” (218), Dollard burst out “beared abundant laughter” (222). The noun “syrup,” used as a verb here, accentuates the thick, sticky, and saccharine quality of Miss Douce’s voice and blends the sense of the word with desire. Likewise, the adjective “beared” is an unconventional modifier for laughter, yet apt to capture the physicality of Dollard. Through these phrases, Joyce evokes not only the sense of hearing but also sight, touch, and taste. One can visualize the beard trembles with laughter and feel the molasses dripping, clinging to one’s skin. Infused with sights and sounds, Joyce’s words strike a multi-dimensional presence in and outside of the fictional realm.
Joyce’s language changes according to the audience’s reaction to music. When the men in the bar are moved by Simon Dedalus’s song, the passage itself reflects their exhilaration: “Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine” (225). Punctuation is omitted so that the burning sensation left by music flows directly into the readers’ bodies. As Bloom’s emotions fall in line with Dedalus’s singing, his sense of self gradually disintegrates and merges with the enchantment and sentimentality of music. He begins as “Leopold Bloom,” “Bloom bent leopold ear,” “Bloom lost Leopold” (224) to finally a unified “Siopold” (227). Joyce centralizes the capacity of music to influence one’s mood and the universality of such emotions through language that ebbs and flows.
Joyce composes a literary symphony in “Sirens,” recreating natural sounds and sensations through his lyrical style. Both the pronunciation and the form of words contribute to producing meaning. Without the rich, sensual component of music, the chapter loses its allure. As signposts of rhythm, sound motifs are a constant reminder of Bloom’s torment caused by the implicit affair. Characters are then reduced to signifiers of sound and instruments of music making, hence merging into the cadence of the chapter. While “Sirens” traces Bloom’s reactions to the sights and sounds in the world, music is the unifying theme that emphasizes sexuality and Bloom’s dread of sexual inadequacy.
Works Cited
Joyce, James, Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, Claus Melchior, and Michael Groden. Ulysses. New York: Vintage, 1993.Print.
Andrea Guang Yang ’19 is a double major in English and FFS from Beijing. She’s interested in journalism, writing, interior decoration, and the relentless exploration of languages. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is one of her favorite novels. Andrea’s current passion lies in the field of literary translation.