Onomatopoeia (ON-uh-mah-tuh-PEE-uh, from Greek onomos
= name + poiein = to make) means making words by
imitating sounds in the environment. This term from ancient
rhetorical theory has become commonplace in English usage, but
even if the term were not familiar the principle behind it
would be. Common speech is filled with words like hiccup,
gargle, gulp, guzzle, slurp, tick-tock, ding-dong, clip-clop,
buzz, bark, woof, meow, roar, howl, chatter, clatter, clang,
crackle, clack, clink, cluck, crinkle, chirp, creak, croak,
honk, toot, hum, squeak, squeal, screech, splash, splat,
splatter, slosh, snap, drop, drizzle, fizz, flap, rattle,
whirr, whiz, whirl, whoosh, murmur, moan, wail, sniff, thump,
thud, zip, and zoom.
Onomatopoeic words of this sort are heard repeatedly as Bloom
stands near the noisy printing presses: "The machines clanked
in threefour time. Thump, thump, thump"; "Mr Bloom
stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks." But
Joyce would not be the great artist he is if he simply
employed such common idioms. Instead he has a new word form in
Bloom's consciousness as he listens to sheets of paper being
fed into the press: "Sllt. The nethermost deck of the
first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt
the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost
human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its
level best to speak. That door too sllt creaking,
asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way. Sllt."
Gilbert
and Seidman cite this as an instance of onomatopoeia,
but they do not comment on a passage later in the chapter when
Professor MacHugh's dental floss speaks: "He took a reel of
dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and, breaking off a
piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant
unwashed teeth. / — Bingbang, bangbang." In
addition to imitating the sound of the floss, these words are
presented as a line of dialogue, so they could also be called
an example of prosopopoeia.
Contemplating the sound "sllt" half a dozen times, Bloom
concludes, "Everything speaks in its own way." This
speculation extends thoughts he had in Calypso, when
his hungry cat's increasingly ornate vocalizations––Mkgnao!
Mrkgnao! Mrkrgnao!––prompted him to reflect that "They
understand what we say better than we understand them."
Sirens picks up this line of thought from the two
earlier chapters, exploring the notion that the world is full
of supposedly inanimate things doing their best to make music.
And in Circe the personification of the articulate
dental floss is revisited as various inanimate things speak
their minds. A trouser button pops off and goes "Bip!" An echo
hears "Hurray for the High School" and replies, "Fool!" Yew
trees say, "Ssh!"
