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Wake
Jeremy Colangelo
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Textual Authority and Diagnostic Joyce
Re-Reading the Way We Read the Wake
JEREMY COLANGELO
The lines that open this essay are from the first edition of Joyces Ulysses,
on an un-numbered page just before the main text begins. Any scholar of
Ulysses knows how much of an understatement that sentence is, how great
an indulgence the edition had asked Joyces readers, and how much that
indulgence has been given, in the form of the now-standard Gabler edi-
tion. The line is an apology in both the modern sense of the term, in
which one asks for forgiveness, and in the ancient Greek sense of apologia,
in which one mounts a defense or offers an explanation (think here of
that most un-apologetic of texts, the Apology of Socrates). In neither case
is the apology successful, and its failure extends in part from its
signatureS. B., or Sylvia Beach, Joyces publisher, who would, pre-
sumably, bear responsibility for the typographical errors (if only the
problems in the 1922 edition were so simple as that!) committed by Dara-
ntiere, the printer she hired. But this signature has two problems: First,
one can hardly blame Beach for hiring a French (and French-speaking)
printer, given that an English printer would have refused the job for fear
of an obscenity charge, and second, Beach may not have written the apol-
ogy to begin with. A look at the manuscript reveals that the more accurate
signature could well be J. J.for the final version of the text was clearly
composed in Joyces handwriting (JJA 27.305).
I hedge my bets and say could well be because, like the rest of Ulysses,
the notes composition history is in no way straightforward. The original
hand-written version that must at some point have been given to the
printers has (as far as I have been able to tell) been lost, but by looking at
the notes different versions we can make several inferences about it. Vol-
ume 27 of the James Joyce Archive contains three versions of the note, on
pages 303, 305, and 309, and these versions have likely been reproduced
in reverse chronological order. The version on 309 is printed in a larger
typeface than what was eventually used (so that it takes up four lines
instead of two), and contains several variations in wording: The pub-
lisher of this book asks for the indulgence of readers [sic] for typographical
errors unavoidable in the exceptional circumstances. The odd phrasing
of the indulgence of readers conforms to French grammar, being a
hyper-literal translation of lindulgence du lecteur. Many of Joyces type-
setting instructions to Darantiere are in French (like those on JJA 27.296,
for example), and so it is quite likely that the oddities in this first version
are the result of a poor translation of a written request that has since been
lost.
Later versions of the note contain edits in Joyces handwriting. On page
305, we see the final version of the note written in English, fixing the
grammar and also omitting the phrase of this book. Joyce also includes
a request (in French) to shrink the font so that the note takes only two
lines. On page 303, we see Joyce wavering on his decision to omit of this
bookediting the note so to return the phrase but then crossing that
edit out. While none of this material shows for certain that the original
decision to include this apology did not come from Beach, it does show
that Joyce exerted the same meticulous attention over it that he did the
rest of Ulysses and its front matter, and also that he exercised control over
its precise wording. If this note is indeed Beach speaking, it is clearly on
Joyces stage, and it is impossible to extricate Joyce fully from the notes
composition. Yet the signature at the bottom gives no indication of this
doubled authorship, meaning that what we encounter are two voices ema-
nating from a single mouth.
The problems in this apology have deep implications for the reading of
Finnegans Wake, and these implications are most palpable in light of the
Wakes relationship with its avant-texte and the rather dicey problems of
authorial intent inherent in the work of critique genetique, or genetic criti-
cism. Following the death of the author declared by Roland Barthes,
the authors corpse has had an unusual place in Joyce criticism: His manu-
scripts are some of the most studied in all of English literature, and Rich-
ard Ellmanns biography is the only text not written by Joyce to have a
dedicated abbreviation in the James Joyce Quarterly. As Tim Conley
argues, Joyces engagement with an aesthetic of error has demanded
that scholars refuse to foreclose biography and textual history as a valid
route of criticism.1 But insofar as the Wake is concerned, the continued
place of Joyce, the person, in Joyce studies is unusual given, as Vicki
Mahaffey describes, its immensely subtle critique . . . of the limitations
of monological authority.2 For the Wake is not like other texts, and Joyce
is not like other authors, and it would be wise here to keep in mind Fritz
Senns remark that whatever Finnegans Wake is, it is most, and, there-
fore, no present day theory . . . would be acceptable if it did not take the
extreme, the superlative, case of the Wake into account.3 Returning to
the apology, I would like to point here to its request for the readers
indulgencenot the readers patience, nor the readers sympathy, but
the readers indulgenceas the frame for my discussion of the role author-
ity plays in reading Finnegans Wake, particularly the short section on the
Wake and Derridian hospitality later in this essay. The word choice here
may be the first time that Joyce invoked the necessity of understanding
his works composition history (specifically, the changes affected by the
printer) for understanding the text being read,4 and he did so at least in
part through the voice of his publisher. In doing so, he at once makes
central the need to indulge the vagrancies of the novels composition,
and so implicitly reify its authors authority, while at the same time dis-
placing the call to perform this indulgence (in both the colloquial sense
and also, possibly, in the sense of a papal indulgence) onto another. This
multi-layered apology, where Joyce apologises in two senses at once, in
two voices at once (and perhaps while using the words of another person)
has serious implications for the way we consider textual authority as it
functions in Finnegans Wake. One must also, in the Ulysses apology, look
askance at the phrase exceptional circumstances: Joyce had just finished
a novel that inflects the everyday life of an unassuming Dubliner with the
import of an epic heroa novel in which every circumstance is excep-
tional. But what, here, should be treated as an exceptional exception?
As Senn has observed, it is Finnegans Wake, really, that makes us aware
of just how inadequate normal consecutive reading can become.5 It is in
the wake of this inadequacy that we can begin to see how readings of
Finnegans Wake are compelled to imitate the auto-metonymic structure
of the Wake itself, where each line contains a trace of the 628-page text,
itself the germ of its history of composition, embedded in the books
colossal set of extra-textual relationships.6 Thus, reading the Wake implies
also the work of writing the Wake, and no reading is allowed to take
control for more than a fleeting moment. It is in this way that Finnegans
Wake always exceeds its readers. However, what I am concerned with in
this essay is the manner in which the Wake exceeds not the reader, but the
reading process, and what that exceeding says about that process itself. My
contention is that Finnegans Wake is like a Rorschach testthough not
in the way that metaphor is usually used. Most often, when someone
compares the Wake to an inkblot, the metaphor refers to the way the
texts ambiguities allow a reader to find seemingly anything between its
pages. But the test, in clinical practice, is not merely an interpretation
generator. Rather, the interpretations are meant to provide a window into
the patients underlying mental processes.7 It is this hitherto unrecognized
aspect of this old metaphor that I wish to bring forward. I would like to
suggest that the manner in which one interprets the Wake provides an
indication of ones underlying textual ideologythe constructed author-
ity through which a reader mediates his/her interpretation, and which
serves to narrow the scope of attention to permit one of the several voices
to breach through beyond the rest. Thus, my focus here will necessarily
be less on the Wake itself than on ways in which the Wake has been read
by others, and I will also have no choice but to retread what to some
might appear old theoretical ground. This retreading is necessary because
my goal is not a novel interpretation of the text qua text, but a change in
perspective from treating Finnegans Wake as an object of study to regard-
ing it as the prism through which one can study the reading of others.
II
one creates onto it. This power struggle arises precisely because these
authorities require mediation through the act of reading in order to attain
actuality, in much the same way that a Hegelian subject must relate itself
to another being in order to become itself.20 These authorities do not
technically exist, but are invented by the reader so as to displace responsi-
bility for interpretation onto them. However, one becomes a reader only
through the act of reading, meaning that one must create these authorities
in order to be actualized through them. Therefore, Finnegans Wake simply
could not be anything but difficult, as the disruption of this usually
unconscious process of actualization-through-subjection is primarily the
result of this difficulty. One must become enthrall[ed] to the eye of the
other21 before one can realize that the Other is actually ones selfand
thus are the double ends joined.
III
criticizing Work in Progress while at the same time parodying its style.32
For years, many Joyceans believed that this letter was written by Joyce
himself as an act of self-parody. Ellmann, for example, reprinted it in the
collection of Joyces letters that he edited (Letters III 18788), saying in a
note that this letter, obviously composed if not written by Joyce himself . . .
was delivered by an unknown hand to Sylvia Beachs bookshop (Letters
III 187n3, my emphasis). It was not until 1979, with the publication of a
short article by Thomas A. Goldwasser in James Joyce Quarterly, that
Joyceans learned that Dixon was a real persona Russian-born, MIT and
Harvard-educated engineer living in Paris who was also a minor author.33
A more extensive account of this story was published by John Whittier-
Ferguson in 1992, providing a more fleshed-out history of the letter and
characterizing Dixon as a willing but baffled middlebrow reader.34 The
article also includes a scan of the handwritten manuscript of the litter.35
John Whitter-Ferguson also highlights how unsubstantiated the rumor of
Joyce having written the letter was, describing how it started as essentially
a hunch on Beachs part that was picked up by the scholars.36
I describe this story here to show how readily a readereven one of
Richard Ellmanns calibercan easily jump on a supposed real or
authoritative author when the name in the byline has no identity (real
or imagined) behind it. Just as, for the conspiracy-minded, the name of
William Shakespeare can represent any number of real authors, each of
whose only claim to the plays and poetry is that they were alive at around
the right time and that their lives are better known than Shakespeares, so
too Vladimir Dixons real identity as a pseudonym for James Joyce
passed from the probably of Beach37 to the obviously of Ellmann.
What we see here is evidence that the process of attributing authority is
colored by what Derrida called mal darchive or archive fevera nos-
talgic ache for an origin which, because receding eternally into the past,
is impossible to reachbrought on by the invocation of the subjects (i.e.
the texts) origins through the apologia Judith Butler described in Excitable
Speech. What we see here is an interplay of displaced responsibility that is
processed by positing some kind of intelligence behind the arrangement
and writing of the text being read. That is, for this kind of reading to
occur, a reader needs not only a byline, but also an identity to attach to
it, if only an imaginary one. The name is not enough.
IV
This brings us back to the initial problem that I posed when quoting
Giving an Account of Oneself, regarding how one can be interpolated in
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t ex tu al au th or it y a nd di ag no st ic jo yc e 77
PAGE 77
78 j er em y c ol an ge lo
One result of this bifurcated process is that the heteroglossia that scores
of critics have seen in the language of the Wake is present also in the
underlying process of its composition. The text thereby re-introduces the
readerly anxiety, which, in most texts, is ameliorated in the process of
positing an author-consciousness to be interpolated into. In Finnegans
Wake, however, the layered heteroglossia disrupts the process of construct-
ing a unified author figure to whom the reading can be ascribed. Also at
play here is the way Joyce seemed to write the Wake in layerscontinually
adding material on top of pre-existing work, while almost never cutting.
The result is similar to the effect that Hugh Kenner observed in Penel-
ope, where the illusion created . . . [is] that anything at all can be
said, and at any moment.42 It is not merely as if the text were written
collaboratively, with different people writing discrete sections and putting
them together. Instead, the effect is that Finnegans Wake reads as if every
word, and every phrase, has been written over by multiple hands, and is
a node in several networks of referentiality at once. It would seem, then,
that the ideal reader of the Wake must be, among other things, in posses-
sion of an ideal multiple personality disorder.
We can see an engagement with this over-writing in a section of chapter
III.4the same episode that Joyce had begun in the episode described in
his letter.43 While it is impossible to tell which of the many complex and
messy notebook pages we have preserved is the one Joyce refers tonever
mind which text in the chapter the note becamewe do know from the
letter that the section refers to Shaun in some way, because Joyce describes
the bit in his letter as some wondrous devices for d during the night
(Letters I 235).44 ( here being Shauns sigla, with the d indicating
that the section was meant for the fourth chapter of its respective book.)
Given this information, we can draw some interesting conclusions from
the following passage: The other, twinned on codliverside, has been cry-
ing in his sleep . . . What a wretch! How his book of craven images! . . .
And he has pipettishly bespilled himself from his foundingpen as illspent
from inkinghorn. . . . Jerry Jehu. . . . O, foetal sleep! Ah, fatal slip! (FW
563.110).
There is quite a bit going on in this section, but one line we can discern
is that the narratorpresumably Kevin/Shaunis complaining about his
sleeping twin Jerry/Shem, who has spilled his ink, and whose crying has
disturbed Shauns sleep. There are also several allusions to beginnings
here, the most notable being foundingpena portmanteau of found-
ing and fountain penand a suggestion that Shems writing has in
some way impinged upon Shaun. The fatal slip of this foetal sleep
identifies sleep with the incubation of the womb and, by extension, the
act of waking with birth. In a sense, then, the ink has marked Kevin and
Jerry at their very origin. These puns and allusions, combined with the
blurring of the Jerry/Kevin distinction at the bottom of the page (kerry-
jevin [FW 563.36]), reflect an important aspect of the composition of the
chapter itself. As Ferrer observes, III.4s structural positionbeing a
ricorso chapter of its book as well as an echo of Book I (which it used to be
part of )meant that Joyce was writing under a great deal of constraint.45
Theres an important sense in which Joyces problem of the over-written
notebook page prefigures the general problems of the chapter, and indeed
of the Wake as a whole. Composing his text over such an extended period
of time, and under an increasing number of structural constraints, meant
that Joyce was frequently writing in conversation with a version of himself
that no longer existed, separated from his present by the span of years.
Just as the nature of ones birth conditions and structures the process of
ones life, so too do decisions early in the writing process continue to
speak years into the composition. Thus, the foundingpen spills its ink
onto the present page, ensuring that the Joyce of seventeen years later
could never write on a blank sheet, or sleep on a clean bed.46 The elon-
gated nature of the Wakes composition, then, helps create the texts
multi-voiced narration, by spilling Jerry into Kevin to produce Kerry-
jevin.47
It is here, at last, that we can return to the issues of the Rorschach test
metaphor and apologia, two apparently distinct concepts that, in Finneg-
ans Wake, come together at last in the power dynamics underlying the
reading process. The connection here takes the form of a Derridian hospi-
tality. I am not the first person to offer a version of this connection; as
recently as 2013, for instance, Andrew J. Mitchell and Sam Slote described
the specter of Joyce as the visitor who is not always welcome.48 But the
association can be taken further. If we understand the role of Joyce qua
the author function in the terms laid out earlier, then we see that the
process of reading the Wake is defined in terms of a contradiction funda-
mental to Derridas understanding of hospitality:
can always corrupt the other, and this capacity for perversion remains
irreducible. It must remain so.49
NOTES
17. Finn Fordham, in the introduction to his Lots of Fun at Finnegans Wake:
Unravelling Universals (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), engages at length
with the imperative to read the Wake through a variety of hermeneutic systems. As
Fordham argues, the proliferation of meanings and stories in and next to the Wake
unravels universalsthe universals that it seems to set up through its mythic coinci-
dences and reproductive analogies. It does so because deviating detail overwhelms
those unitary elements that attempt to secure strategies of totalization (35).
18. Michel Foucault, What Is an Author? in The Foucault Reader, trans. Josue
V. Harari, ed. Paul Rabinow (New York: Vintage, 2010), 119.
19. Judith Butler, Excitable Speech: A Politics of the Performative (New York:
Routledge, 1997), 36.
20. Judith Butler, Subjects of Desire: Hegelian Reflections in Twentieth-Century
France (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), 44.
21. Kimberly J. Devlin, See Ourselves as Others See Us: Joyces Look at the Eye
of the Other, PMLA 104.5 (1989): 888.
22. Judith Butler, Giving an Account of Oneself (New York: Fordham University
Press, 2005), 8.
23. Ibid, 10.
24. Ibid, 37.
25. Roland Barthes, The Death of the Author, in Image-Music-Text, ed. Stephen
Heath (New York: Hill and Wang, 1977), 142.
26. Jean-Michel Rabate, James Joyce, Authorized Reader (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1991), 151.
27. Michael Groden, Ulysses in Focus: Genetic, Textual, and Personal Views
(Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2010), 6.
28. For example, Jed Deppman, A Chapter in Composition: Chapters III.12,
in How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Guide, ed. Luca
Crispi and Sam Slote (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), 307.
29. For example, JJII 5354, as well as John McCourt, The Years of Bloom: James
Joyce in Trieste 19041920 (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 2000), 21314.
30. For example, McHugh, Annotations, xixxx.
31. Foucault, What Is an Author? 118.
32. Vladimir Dixon, A Litter to Mr. James Joyce, in James Joyce/Finnegans
Wake: A Symposium (New York: New Directions, 1972), 193.
33. Thomas A. Goldwasser, Who Was Vladimir Dixon? Was He Vladimir
Dixon? James Joyce Quarterly 16.3 (1979): 21922.
34. John Whitter-Ferguson, The Voice behind the Echo: Vladimir Dixons Let-
ters to James Joyce and Sylvia Beach, James Joyce Quarterly 29.3 (1992): 512.
35. Ibid, 51721.
36. Ibid, 527.
37. Qtd. in Ibid, 512.
38. Judith Butler, The Psychic Life of Power: Theories in Subjection (Stanford: Stan-
ford University Press, 1997), 2.
39. Daniel Ferrer, Wondrous Devices in the Dark: Chapter III.4, in How Joyce
Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Guide, ed. Luca Crispi and
Sam Slote (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), 410.
40. Alan Roughley, Reading Derrida Reading Joyce (Gainesville, University Press
of Florida, 1999), 94.
41. Dirk Van Hulle, Manuscript Genetics: Joyces Know-How, Becketts Nohow
(Gainesville, University Press of Florida, 2009), 9091.
42. Hugh Kenner, Ulysses: Revised Edition (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1987), 148.
43. Ferrer, 410.
44. Given the trouble Joyce had with this page, his prediction in an earlier letter
that Shaun is going to give me a very great deal of trouble (Letters I 213) seems to
have come true.
45. Ferrer, 41112.
46. This continued presence of the past is quite similar to what Gabriel Renggli
has noted in relation to Joyces many invented words. As he writes: The nature of
Joyces non-words . . . is such that even once we prove conclusively which non-word
is the original one, the echo of the other one, of the one whose memory we are
supposed to erase from our minds, is still present in the original, authoritative,
remaining one (A Wakean Whodunit: Death and Authority in Finnegans Wake,
Joyce Studies Annual [2014]: 15).
47. This polyphony continues through the rest of the chapter. As Finn Fordham
writes in his summary of III.4 in the Oxford edition of the Wake: we seem to
float with two narrators through the Chapelizod inn at night (Chapter by Chapter
Outline, in Finnegans Wake, ed. Robbert-Jan Henkes, Erik Bindervoet, and Finn
Fordham [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012], xliii).
48. Andrew J. Mitchell and Sam Slote, Introduction to Derrida and Joyce: Texts
and Contexts, ed. Andrew J. Mitchell and Sam Slote (New York: SUNY Press,
2013), 3.
49. Jacques Derrida, Of Hospitality, trans. Rachel Bowlby (Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 2000), 135.
50. Peter Mahon, Imagining Joyce and Derrida: Between Finnegans Wake and
Glas (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007), 21.
51. Jacques Derrida, Ulysses Gramophone: Hear Say Yes in Joyce, in Derrida
and Joyce: Texts and Contexts, trans. Francois Raffoul, ed. Andrew J. Mitchell and
Sam Slote (New York: SUNY Press, 2013), 64.