By the time readers get to Sirens they have
encountered a number of strange violations of what Joyce
called the "initial style" of his opening chapters. Some of
these, notably Bloom's echoes of the narrator's
words in Hades and the narrator's echo of Stephen's
words in Scylla and Charybdis, take the form of
pushing free indirect style past
its limits so that the narrative, instead of merely
approximating a character's consciousness, enters into
conversation with it. The beginning of Sirens extends
and deepens this practice, as two barmaids in the Ormond Hotel
deride an old pharmacist. Their mockery of his sexual
unattractiveness bleeds over into the narrative's
characterization of poor cuckold-to-be Bloom.
Discussing the sunburn that she acquired on her vacation at
the beach, Miss Douce recalls that "I asked that old fogey in
Boyd's for something for my skin," an observation that makes
Miss Kennedy protest, "O, don't remind me of him for
mercy'sake!...No, don't....I won't listen....Don't let me
think of him or I'll expire. The hideous old wretch! That
night in the Antient Concert Rooms." As she is giggling out
these protests and sticking her fingers in her ears, Miss
Douce is cocking her head to one side in imitation of the
pharmacist, "ruffling her nosewings," grunting "For your
what?" in "snuffy fogey's tone," and snorting "down her
nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a snout in quest":
"Hufa! Hufa!" Shrieking in delight, Miss Kennedy finally joins
in: "Will you ever forget his goggle eye?" Soon they are both
convulsed in peals of full-throated screaming laughter, taking
only a brief break to express the absolute horror of having
sexual relations with such a cadaverous old wretch:
— O greasy eyes!
Imagine being married to a man like that! she cried. With his
bit of beard!
Douce gave full vent to a
splendid yell, a full yell of full woman, delight, joy,
indignation.
— Married to the
greasy nose! she yelled.
While this has been going on, the narrator has been tracking
Bloom's movement through the streets toward the Ormond: "Bloowho
went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast the sweets of
sin.... Bloom.... But Bloom?... Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron
Figatner's name.... By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes
went by." The musically altered "Bloowho" suggests "boohoo,"
appropriate to this chapter in which Bloom will watch Boylan
depart for his 4:00 assignation with Molly. Poor Bloom, feeling
old and spent, rejected as a sexual partner by the woman he
loves, nears the room in which two desirable young women are
mocking a hideous old man, and the narrator picks up their
language: "
Married to Bloom, to greaseaseabloom....
By Cantwell's offices roved
Greaseabloom, by Ceppi's
virgins, bright of their oils." As these two narrative strands
run side by side, the "goggle eye" of the old pharmacist becomes
linked with Bloom's "dark eye," and his anaphrodisiac manner
wraps itself around Bloom's dumpy unprepossessing person.
The barmaids are not talking about Bloom, but "Greaseabloom"
lets their conversation control the way he is narratively
presented. Accomplishing this feat chiefly through the
deployment of a single word, greasy, means that Joyce has not
yet entirely transcended his earlier usage of free indirect
style, where mere adjectives like "Stately" and "plump"
suffice to bring the sensibility of a character into the
narrative. But the impossible communication between barmaids
and narrator––the sense that a fourth wall has been
momentarily dissolved––announces coming changes in the novel.
In the first half of Nausicaa, the entire
narration––every sentence, every phrase, every choice of
words––will embody the consciousness of a young woman thinking
about an older man. And Gerty's romantic interest in Bloom
will compensate somewhat for the humiliation that "greasy"
brings to him in Sirens.
