Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Plumped. 317-319

We met tonight and of course as usual talked of many things. But for some reason I got stuck on this one word sentence: "Plumped." Right there in the middle of 319.

Plumped. Plumped. Come on, I thought, this has come up before somehow, hasn't it?

It wasn't until I got home that I realized why it seemed such a Joycean word. Although it isn't from the Wake that I remember it...

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.
Yeah, the opening sentence of Ulysses, one of those lines that everyone who has read Joyce is familiar with. Egad.


No comments:

Post a Comment