海角大神

Gordon Bowker, in James Joyce: A New Biography, refers endlessly to the writer as 鈥淒ublin鈥檚 Dante,鈥� though it鈥檚 for human rather than divine comedy that Joyce鈥檚 writing is beloved. In the author鈥檚 depiction (in "Ulysses" above all, the book Pound called the 鈥渨hole boil of the mind鈥�) of something essential in humanity鈥檚 profane inner life, Bowker believes he can glimpse the mind of Joyce himself. His biography is an attempt to 鈥済o beyond the mere facts and tap into Joyce鈥檚 elusive consciousness,鈥� making the conjecture that 鈥渕uch of [Joyce鈥檚] writing afforded glimpses of his own hidden life.鈥�

Joyce would have history believe that he lived by the Dedalian attributes of 鈥渟ilence, exile, and cunning.鈥� In fact, his life story seems to have been more often than not a string of reluctant perambulations, urgent requests for money, and episodes of ill heath alternating with drunken revelry. While Bowker doesn鈥檛 accept Joyce鈥檚 self-edits as other biographers have done in the past, his early passages describe how 鈥渓ittle Jim (if the imaginative memory of his alter ego Stephen can be trusted) was a 鈥榥icens little boy named baby tuckoo.鈥欌�� Whether or not Stephen, Bloom, Earwicker and the rest are indeed to be trusted where Joyce himself was not is the point on which Bowker鈥檚 effort can be seen to founder.

There are obvious autobiographical resonances throughout "Ulysses" and "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," and Bowker is helpful in drawing these out. An apostatical Joyce鈥檚 guilt at refusing to pray for his dying mother, for instance, makes its way into "Ulysses" through the taunts of the 鈥渟tately鈥� Buck Mulligan, a character based on Joyce鈥檚 friend Oliver Gogarty. Bowker carefully unpicks these characters, settings, and events from Joyce鈥檚 work, both annotating the life fictionally and allowing biography to 鈥渇oreshadow the work.鈥� Of "Ulysses," he writes that it drew to itself, 鈥渕agnet-like,鈥� fragments of Joyce鈥檚 life 鈥� a much better formulation than the heavy-handed clich茅 that, by agreeing to step out with Joyce on June 16, 鈥淣ora Barnacle had made a date with history.鈥�

Bowker also borrows descriptives from his subject, noting for instance Sylvia Beach鈥檚 surprise at 鈥渉ow bad [Joyce鈥檚] eyes (his 鈥榞ropesearching eyes鈥�) were.鈥澛� The quotation is from "Finnegan鈥檚 Wake," and the fact that Bowker can draw biographical resonance 鈥� connecting Joyce鈥檚 struggle to control his legacy, for instance, to a passing reference to 鈥渂iografiend鈥� 鈥� from a book where sense is as much to be found in sound as in words themselves is astonishing. Bowker calls "Finnegan's Wake" Joyce鈥檚 鈥渕ost obscure but revealing鈥� work, and deduces from it not only Joyce鈥檚 instant sexual attraction to Nora Barnacle and quasi-incestuous fascination with their daughter Lucia, but the gossipy nature of the Joyce household too.

Bowker, as he does with all of Joyce鈥檚 controversies, takes an uncritical attitudte toward "Finnegan's Wake," though he clearly sees "Ulysses" as Joyce鈥檚 masterpiece. Instead, he uses Joyce鈥檚 final novel as a key to the author鈥檚 mindset during years beset by eye trouble: 鈥淚nside his private world, which blindness could not dim, his mind was now perfectly tuned to the coining of words鈥�. He was turning his weakening eyesight into a creative strength.鈥澛� Whether or not this is strictly true of course is impossible to know: Bowker is more successful in persuading us to see "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" as a roman 脿 clef than in performing the same trick on "Finnegan鈥檚 Wake."

Certainly, the ability to draw from "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" enlivens biography somewhat. Describing Joyce鈥檚 death in 1940, Bowker writes that 鈥渉is condition deteriorated and he lost consciousness, waking only to ask that Nora鈥檚 bed be placed next to his as his had been close to hers in the hospital once. (鈥楬e might die before his mother came,鈥� thought young Stephen Dedalus.)鈥澛� Flights of biographical fancy like this one 鈥� where the writing serves as a direct substitute for the writer鈥檚 thought 鈥� have a beautiful, mirror-like quality despite the reflection鈥檚 being necessarily illusive. It鈥檚 too bad that such moments are overshadowed by the long slog of the book鈥檚 later part 鈥� an endless recital of Joyce鈥檚 demands for money, repeated eye surgeries, and constant moving of house.聽

In the end, little of Joyce鈥檚 consciousness shows through this thicket of superficial details, despite Bowker鈥檚 attempt to read backwards from the author鈥檚 work to his state of mind.聽 Doubtless, this continued obfuscation is what Joyce himself would have wanted.聽 As he told his portraitist Patrick Tuohy: 鈥淣ever mind my soul, Tuohy. Just make sure you get my tie right.鈥�

Bowker might have managed to conjure sparks at times, but the full bonfire of the soul remains the purview of Joyce鈥檚 prose. The fire does not catch so easily on the drier tinder of his life.聽

Jenny Hendrix is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn.