January 16, 2018
James Joyce, Nora and BloomsdayOn their first first date, Nora Barnacle stood James Joyce up. Two days later -- June 16, 1904 -- Joyce got his second first date, and the date upon which he would eventually base Ulysses. The ways in which Nora Barnacle was and was not Molly Bloom continue to be discussed -- in Brenda Maddox's 1988 biography Nora: The Real Molly Bloom, for example, and the 1999 film based upon it -- but many agree that had Nora not been the woman she was, neither Joyce, nor Bloomsday nor Ulysses would be what they are.
When they first met on the streets of Dublin, Joyce was a bright-talking and hard-drinking 22 year-old, already with something of a name for himself in the local pubs and poetry circles. Not that Nora would have known: she was a 20 year-old chambermaid from Galway, just arrived in the big city. But that June 16th, on a walk along the River Liffey, it was Nora who made the biggest impression, apparently teaching the know-it-all Joyce a few things that he didn't know after all. Within four months they were back at the harbor, sailing for Europe. When Joyce's father was told that his favorite son had run off with an unknown Galway girl, he responded with typical family wit: "Barnacle? She'll never leave him."
Nora was no-nonsense -- she included Ulysses in the nonsense category, and refused to read it -- and not the 'quiet helpmeet' type, but through decades of poverty, rootlessness, drunkenness, and literary rejection, through Joyce's failing eyes, their son's alcoholism and their daughter's insanity, she was the stable center of the family's eccentric, expatriate life. Just as Molly anchors the wandering Bloom -- even as her climactic monologue, perhaps the most famous final sentence in literature, shows her remembering others:
There are no recordings of it, but Joyce had a good singing voice too -- so good that Nora wanted him to go professional, as their son Giorgio later did. In the dating days of 1904, Joyce was still singing at recitals, once on a bill with John McCormack. In the "Sirens" episode of Ulysses, Simon Dedalus treats the boys at the Ormond Bar with a B-flat that "soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don't spin it out too long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the ethereal bosom, high, of the vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness. . . ."
Throughout his life, and much more than Nora cared to hear, Joyce would close the evening or the bar with a medley of Irish ballads, as accompaniment to another bottle of white wine. Nora would sometimes wrestle him home, sometimes let him be carried home by his friends, or those literary fans who had made pilgrimage to the master -- "Well, here comes James Joyce the writer, drunk again, with Ernest Hemingway." She would often threaten to leave him because of his drinking; like Molly, and as Joyce's father predicted, she never did.
Buy at Amazon
Buy at Barnes & Noble