Finally ... Ithaca

The "Ithaca" chapter contains the emotional reunion of "father" (Bloom/Odysseus) and "son" (Stephen/Telemachus), and their slaying of the suitors of Molly/Penelope. Stylistically, as a counterpoint to what has been one of the most internal and subjective novels ever written, Joyce presents us in “Ithaca” with a chapter of sheer objectivity, driving the narrative via a series of pseudoscientific questions and answers, effectively rendering this scene of great warmth and communion (Stephen & Bloom sipping cocoa, followed by Bloom crawling into bed with Molly) in terms of cold, scientific, factual information, in a skeletal style completely stripped of artifice and sentiment. Additionally, by the end of the chapter, Bloom and Stephen, two of the most developed characters in literature, have ceased to be particular, and have become, quite literally, universal (that is, two among the innumerable celestial bodies). However, despite the almost dehumanizing style of the chapter, what radiates throughout, miraculously, is the utter humanity of the characters. I personally find this chapter to be among the funniest and most emotionally wrenching of a funny, emotionally wrenching novel.

After Stephen departs, presumably to begin his artistic journey as creator/artist, Bloom joins Molly in bed, quite conscious of the clear evidence that she has committed adultery. However, unlike the heroism of Odysseus/Ulysses, who proceeds to slaughter the many suitors of his faithful wife Penelope, Bloom triumphs heroically by slaying jealousy itself; that is, he reacts with acceptance and generosity, largely by placing himself and his situation in a much greater universal/cosmic perspective. Recall Bloom's words to the Citizen: "Force, hatred, history, all that. That's not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life .... Love" (333). In the wake of WWI, this becomes Joyce's model for the 20th Century Hero.

The Cabman's Shelter

After the chaotic dissonance of the climactic "Circe" chapter, Joyce begins the third section of the book ("The Homecoming") with "Eumaeus." As if to call attention to exhaustion on the part of the two main characters (and, perhaps, on the part of the reader by this point!), Joyce writes the chapter in a boring, tired, cliche-ridden style. Eumeaus was Odysseus's faithful swineherd friend, the first person approached by Odysseus (in disguise) upon his long-awaited homecoming to Ithaca. The chapter is full of red herrings and frustrated identifications. Here we meet a seafaring wanderer (Murphy) whose tales of adventure seem to make him a Ulyssean character … but this proves to be a falsehood, as Bloom, despite his obvious external differences, is actually more akin to Ulysses in his moderation and intelligence. The long-awaited meeting between Bloom and Stephen proves somewhat anticlimactic, taking place amid a series of deceptions, falsehoods, and miscommunications. Despite our expectations, Joyce here frustrates the reader, refusing to give us an overly dramatic or emotional scene. Finally, the chapter calls into question Truth and Fiction – Bloom reads a “factual” newspaper account of Dignam’s funeral, which, despite it pretenses to accuracy, does not come close to portraying exactly what occurred. (Paradoxically, Joyce’s novel Ulysses, like other great works of fiction, comes closer to portraying Truth than do most works/forms that claim to do so.)

The Magic of Circe

In The Odyssey, Circe transforms Odysseus's men into swine; possessing a magic plant (moly) given to him by Hermes (Mercury), Odysseus is able to withstand Circe's magic and ultimately free his men from her spell.

Joyce’s 180-page closet drama (that is, a dramatic work meant to be read, rather than performed) embedded in his epic novel contains speaking parts for virtually every character introduced in the book, including inanimate objects such as The Fan and The Soap. Having taken realistic/naturalistic fiction as far as it can go, Joyce now experiments with symbolic/unrealistic fiction. After leaving the maternity ward, Bloom instinctively (perhaps paternally?) follows a very drunk Stephen and his cohorts to a brothel in "Nighttown," Dublin’s red-light district. Appropriately (given the transformational qualities of Circe’s magic) the drama consists of a series of phantasmagoric, even psychedelic images and hallucinations that serve to probe the psychological depths of both Bloom and Stephen, with each character confronting the main source of his neurosis: Bloom his failure as husband to Molly, Stephen his failure as son to his mother. Ultimately, the two characters experience a catharsis, purging them through the emotions of pity and terror. By end of “Circe,” Bloom has regained his manhood, asserting himself by saving Stephen from the whores, his drunken friends, two antagonistic military men, and the police. Finally, this father-son connection is solidified, as Bloom escorts Stephen back to his home at 7 Eccles Street.

Bloody Oxen of the Bloody Sun

Arguably the most difficult section of the book, this chapter merely attempts to draw a comparison between the gestation of a fetus and the development of the English language through a narrative style of a series of pastiches reflecting the major stages of literary development. In doing so, I think Joyce is recalling Stephen's notion of Shakespeare's having "fathered" a literary race as well as the ongoing theme merging the act of biological creation with the act of artistic creation. In the Homeric episode, our hero and his men land on the island of Helios, the sun god, with Odysseus warning his men (per prophetic orders from both Circe and Tiresias) to refrain from harming Helios's sacred cattle. When inclement weather causes the men to be stranded on the island long enough to have expended their provisions, Odysseus's men go behind their captain's back and slaughter enough cattle for a six-day feast. When the weather clears up, the men depart, only to be subsequently struck down by Zeus's thunderbolt, leaving Odysseus the sole survivor.

The chapter takes place at the maternity hospital, with Mina Purefoy in the midst of labor and Bloom meeting up with Stephen, Mulligan, and a bunch of drunken med students. Here we finally see Bloom in an overtly paternalistic role, lamenting Stephen's drunkenness and the fact that Stephen is wasting his life-bearing semen on prostitutes (or "murdered his goods with whores" (391)). This becomes the central correlation for Joyce, who sees the story of the slaughtered cattle as a "crime against fecundity" - that is, copulation (or masturbation) without any intention of actually creating life. Conversation here includes contraception, birth defects, infant mortality, and even Buck Mulligan's offer to set up a "national fertilizing farm ... [with] his dutiful yeoman services for the fecundation of any female" (402). Lynch mocks Stephen's literary ambitions: "That answer and those leaves ... will adorn you more fitly when something more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father" (415). The chapter ends with the group heading out to another bar, and eventually to Dublin's red-light district; Bloom will follow, presumably to keep a watchful eye on young Stephen.

My advice on reading this chapter is as follows:
Option 1: Read it slowly carefully, with a lot of outside help to piece together stylistic and thematic elements.
Option 2: Read it rather quickly, getting the gist of the action and using any one of a number of online guides/summaries to help ground you
Option 3: Don't read it. Just get an online summary so you can move on to the next (slightly) more comprehensible chapter. I won't tell the teacher.