Print
PRINT
James Joyce
Andrew V. McFeaters
MUSEYROOMS AND MOEBIUS EFFECTS: A RUIM OF HISTORY IN FINNEGANS WAKE

The figure of a museum appears in the first few pages of Finnegans Wake, described variously as the “Wallinstone national museum” (8.1-2), the “museomound” (8.5), and the “Willingdone Museyroom” (8.10) (1). Like many concepts, themes, and tropes in Finnegans Wake, this figure accrues ideational density and complexity through a ramifying series based on orthographic variation, conceptual association, and repetition of rhythmic phrasal structures (2). Each of the above variations generates unique connotations. The first instance frames the museum nationalistically, the second suggests an image like the ancient Hill of Tara (a mound), recalling anthropology, archeology, geology, mythology, and even paleontology--beware the “brontoichthyan form” (7.20)!--and the third expresses an exertion of will (perhaps “Thy will be done” from the “Pater Noster”). Collectively these meanings unsettle the actively nationalistic functions of historiographic discourses embodied by the structure of the museum, wherein one muses on the aesthetic presentation of a culture’s past in order to better understand the present whilst simultaneously grounding a future. The Museyroom, moving beyond naive historiography, establishes rather an aesthetics of historicity that sets the tone for the entire book, and this aesthetics acts as a critique rather than an affirmation of teleologically-driven constructions.

As Geert Lernout notes in his genetic analysis, “The Beginning: Chapter I.1” (from How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake), the initial workings of the first chapter of Finnegans Wake were not added until 1926, two years after the first published fragment of Work in Progress, Joyce having designated an important role to these passages: “Joyce began to write a chapter that is in many ways an overture and a prelude” (3). Lernout traces the genetic stages in which Joyce inserted historical references in this section, especially those pertaining to Waterloo. Ultimately the Museyroom elides the “Wellington monument in Phoenix Park [with] the Wellington Museum of Mount Saint Jean” (4). In terms of the overture’s plot, what takes place in the opening of Finnegans Wake is a scene in which Kate guides us into, through, and out of a museum whose multi-serial contents combines historical military references with a sexual scandal at Phoenix Park involving either voyeurism, exhibitionism, or some combination thereof. Beyond mere plot, however, the museum signifies a radical implication for history itself, one generated by an architectural dynamism rather than by any single historical subject, thus un-grounding rather than grounding historical narrativity. In Simulacra and Simulation, Jean Baudrillard speaks of museumification and demuseumification, the former involving the “[transplanting of mummies] to an order of history, science, and museums, our order, which no longer masters anything, which only knows how to condemn what preceded it to a decay and death”(5). In the case of demuseumification, any attempt to return the object to its original foundation leads to similar results: “And just as with ethnology, which plays at extricating itself from its object to better secure itself in its pure form, demuseumification is nothing but another spiral of artificiality” (6). Baudrillard’s museum reveals history as simulation, a condition that ultimately reflects the condition of the world. His example of a Disneyland that becomes more real than reality signifies the collapse between the polarization of the real and the imaginary, leading to “the hyperreal order and to the order of simulation” (7). Interestingly, Baudrillard’s collapse of poles operates on dynamics similar to those expressed in Giordano Bruno’s Cause, Principle and Unity, whose coincidence of contraries extends binary values, like macro and micro, to such an extreme that they become equal, like two antithetical objects travelling in opposite directions on a single line that becomes a circle (8). As is well known, Bruno’s theory of the coincidence of contraries plays a substantial role throughout Finnegans Wake. Besides the fact that his name is often referenced and that merging binary values are frequently represented through Shem and Shaun, Issy and her mirror image, between father and sons, and mother and daughter--in all manner of conflicts familial or epic--the paradoxical function of Bruno’s theory surfaces in numerous aesthetic and epistemological issues in Finnegans Wake. The Museyroom, overture and prelude to all that follows, plays a pivotal role in complicating a system of differentials like past/present, factual/fictive, and inside/outside, thus exposing historiography and archive practices to the labyrinthine effects of paradox and inversion.

In The Logic of Sense Gilles Deleuze discusses the Moebius strip to express the effect of paradox-writing in Lewis Carroll’s Sylvie and Bruno: “Fortunatus’ purse, presented as a Moebius strip, is made of handkerchiefs sewn in the wrong way, in such a manner that its outer surface is continuous with its inner surface: it envelops the entire world, and makes that which is inside be on the outside and vice versa” (9)(11). Carroll’s writing (often referenced in Finnegans Wake) generates paradox, where distinctions between ordinary binaries are cross-inverted in such a way that the normally unquestioned contradictions of language, of effects, come to the surface, thus mitigating the measurability of values based on depth, which is the language of adults rather than children like Alice in Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass (10). A museum, however, customarily circumscribes history within a closed space, assigning aesthetic and epistemological values to artifacts, often operating in sacred, tragic, nostalgic, or heroic narratives. The system is referential. This was then. Here is the meaning of what happened. Finnegans Wake is frequently positioned in this sense, as a work expressing the trauma and nostalgia associated with Modernism. Christine van Boheemen mentions the Moebius figure in Joyce, Derrida, Lacan, and the Trauma of History: Reading, Narrative and Postcolonialism. Though Boheeman ultimately locates Joyce’s writing within a nationalist framework (insofar as it operates in relation to British imperialism), as that which somehow expresses the trauma of postcolonial experience through the unrepresentable subaltern perspective, the Moebius effect, which “subvert[s] the distinction between inside and outside, text and world” (11), leads to results similar to those articulated by Deleuze. Boheeman writes that Joyce’s “webs trap the reader into witnessing the unspoken moment of their occasion. Rather than free-play, his syncreticism and impenetrability are a resistance against the self-righteous, ‘colonizing’ power of hegemonic readings (structuralist, poststructuralist, or hermeneutic) over the literary text.” This de-hegemonic effect of the Moebius strip aligns itself with Deleuze’s discussion of the Stoic revolution in thought, the outcome of which dispels the illusion of depth and focuses on the surface of language—all that language ever was. He writes that “The Stoics discovered surface effects. Simulacra cease to be subterranean rebels and make the most of their effects [. . .]. The most concealed becomes the most manifest. All the old paradoxes of becoming must again take shape in a new youthfulness—transmutation” (12). The outcome is that the Platonic system that divides origin, copy, and simulacrum, a differentiation which privileges origin, unravels in the face of paradox. Likewise, Louis Armand elucidates Joyce’s use of paradox in Techne: James Joyce, Hypertext & Technology when he speaks of a “Janus-like (FW 272.16) point of double articulation” (13) in which time unfolds in two directions in Finnegans Wake: “In other words, a later epoch (A.D.) is shown, not to proceed from an earlier epoch (B.C.), but in a sense to precede it, and also to encompass it in apparent movement of ‘concentricity’” (14). Armand points out that “In Joyce’s punning text, the cycle is both the passage of history and the vehicle of history, its terminus and commencement”(15), and uses Joyce’s diagrammatic variation on Euclid’s first proposition to make this point (see FW 293 for diagram).

The paradoxical figure of Janus appears also in the Museyroom section, and represents that very point where inside and outside meet on the Moebius strip. What is essential to understand is its effect on historical discourse. At the threshold to the Museyroom section, as well as to the Museyroom itself, we read,

Hence when the clouds roll by, jamey, a proudseye view is enjoyable of our mounding’s mass, now Wallinstone national museum, with, in some greenish distance, the charmful waterloose country and the two quitewhite villagettes who hear show of themselves so gigglesomes minxt the follyages, the prettilees! Penetrators are permitted into the museumound free. Welsh and the Paddy Patkinses, one shelenk! Redismembers invalids of old guard find poussepousse pousseypram to sate the sort of their butt. For her passkey supply to the janitrix, the mistress Kathe. Tip. (FW 7.36-8.8)

What was originally a mound representing part of the “brontoichthyan form outlined aslumbered” (7.20-21) is now a museum, which is a reconfiguration of the Wellington Monument. The solid obelisk has become penetrable, perhaps evoking the image of the Sídhe mound in Irish mythology or the subterranean entrance into a labyrinthine wonderland. The Museyroom, in its conversion from obelisk to museum, is an updated version of the Sídhe mound; history is grounded in prehistory, and vice-versa. Kate, our docent, is the “janitrix,” a genitrix (mother), a female janitor/doorkeeper, and Janus, the Roman god who guards gateways, facing inside and outside. She escorts us into, “Mind your hats goan in!” (8.9), and out of, “Mind your boots goan out” (9.22-23), the Museyroom, but the separation of the inside and the outside, of the worlds represented by each, persists only at the surface of words, and the coincidence of these contraries dissolves the walls of the museum, exposing the narrativity of history, its groundlessness, and its condition as simulation. As Derek Attridge writes in Joyce Effects: On Language, Theory, and History: “[The] model of the novel as simulacrum is shattered, and with it the model of historical writing as simulacrum of the novel. If the language which the historian has to use possesses all the properties revealed in Finnegans Wake [ . . . ], then the dream of capturing in words ‘what really happened’ must be abandoned” (16). If the novel is no longer a Platonic simulacrum, then its connections to the reader and the world operate by other means. In fact, Finnegans Wake acts as a rhizome, of which Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari say in A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia: “There is no longer a tripartite division between a field of reality (the world) and a field of representation (the book) and a field of subjectivity (the author). Rather, an assemblage establishes connections between certain multiplicities drawn from each of these orders [ . . . ]. In short, we think that one cannot write sufficiently in the name of an outside ” (17). For Attridge, Finnegans Wake “undoes history [because it] does not contain within itself a clear determination of a time and place, of a sequence of events, or of a set of existents. It is not that history is absent; on the contrary, history is omnipresent” (18). What become visible in Finnegans Wake are floating narrative islands capable of continuous resequencing within fluid relational structures. There are times and places, but these overlap and shift. Histories are points in motion, momentarily placed side-by-side or in coterminous series through linking mechanisms. In fact, the rhizomatic qualities of Finnegans Wake anticipate genetic studies, having already subverted notions of an urtext. The Museyroom’s Moebius effect illustrates Finnegans Wake as a rhizome, imploding boundaries between the museum/text and the world.

Within the museum itself, if such a distinction can be made now, Kate leads us from site to site. It is not clear whether she is showing us paintings, reliefs, or something else, and this ambiguity not only helps to blur spatial relations but also fuses image with plaque, illustration with caption--her descriptions operate on both levels. While the historical references largely surround the Napoleonic Wars, the section presents also Kate’s role at Finnegan’s/O’Reilly’s/ Earwicker’s/Finn MacCool’s Irish wake as well as the scandal at Phoenix Park. Kate seems to possess an abundance of knowledge as she relates to the tourists/mourners this multi-serial history wherein the “jinnies” are two girls and the “lipoleums” are three soldiers: “This is jinnies in the bonny bawn blooches. This is lipoleums in the rowdy howses. This is the Willingdone, by the splinters of Cork, order fire” (FW 9.21-3). Not surprisingly the center of the scandal is “Willingdone,” whose will is done despite all impropriety. The scope of the museum’s content exceeds Napoleonic events, however, featuring references to the Battle of Hastings, the Battle of Bannockburn, the Crimean War, the Trojan War, and no doubt other militaristic and scandalous events. The “tip” sound that demarcates the division between scenes during the tour resonates throughout Finnegans Wake. In the Museyroom section it signals the transition from one museum scene to another, almost suggesting the clicking of a slide show. However, it suggests also the sound of a shilling dropping into a receptacle: “Welsh and the Paddy Patkinses, one shelenk” (8.6). This is the fee for egress into the museum.

Into the rabbit hole we go. As a conjunction-like figure that separates military scenes, “tip” has a paratactic effect on the ordering of the scenes: no scene, image, or event has greater significance over any other. Because the deceptively diminutive word seems to function more as a spacing effect than a concept, its equalization of values creates a condition similar to Deleuze’s notion of Pure Difference in Difference and Repetition, which is arrived at through the eternal return: “Every thing, animal or being assumes the status of simulacrum; so that the thinker of eternal return (who indeed refuses to be drawn out of the cave, finding instead another cave beyond, always another in which to hide) can rightly say that he is himself burdened with the superior form of everything” (19). The cave here is Plato’s cave from the Republic, except that Plato’s world order, wherein Form is the good, and copy and simulacrum corruptions thereof, is flooded by a sea of simulacra. Because the seemingly trivial “tip” levels any hierarchical stratification of history and knowledge, language itself comes to the surface and Pure Difference, rather than a system of differences, takes place. Deleuze explicates the eternal return with his concept of the third repetition. Interestingly, his three repetitions are linked to Giambattista Vico’s cyclic model of history, which Joyce famously refashioned for his own purposes. Deleuze’s third repetition becomes an excellent analogue for Joyce’s use of Vico’s ricorso. He discusses three syntheses of repetition: first, second, and third; or, the Before, the During, and the After, which is the Future, which is the “repetition within the eternal return” (20). The Before is “defined by default or in a negative manner: one repeats because one does not know, because one does not remember” (21). The During is “defined by a becoming-similar or a becoming-equal: one becomes capable of performing an action, one becomes equal to the image of the action.” The third repetition, however, which is the future and the eternal return, “affirms difference, [. . .] dissemblance and disparateness, chance, multiplicity and becoming” (22). The third repetition “distributes [the Before and the During] in accordance with the straight line of time, but also eliminates them, determining them to operate only once and for all, keeping the ‘all times’ for the third time alone” (23). According to Deleuze the “content”(if such a word can be used here) of the third time comprises simulacra (24). As his third repetition subsumes and cancels out the previous repetitions, so does the ricorso suffuse the entirety of Finnegans Wake, formulating all history as virtuality and simulation. In this light, Finnegans Wake moves beyond the Modernist trauma of history, recasting mourning and nostalgia as simulation.

The Museyroom repeats much later in Finnegans Wake as the “mewseyfume” (333.16). Various parallels occur between the sections: “[K]atekattershin clopped, clopped, clopped [ . . . ] back and along the danzing corridor, as she was going to pimpim him, way boy wally, not without her complement of cavarnan men, between the two deathdealing allied divisions and the lines of readypresent fire of the corkedagains upstored, taken in giving the saloot, band your hands going in, bind your heads coming out” (333.7-13). In this section Kate appears to be delivering a message from ALP to HCE. As can be seen in the above excerpt, military references reappear. A conversation soon takes place, in what is probably the pub, between “Mr ‘Gladstone Browne,’” “Mr ‘Bonaparte Nolan,’” and he who “willingtoned,” who is Wellington (334.6-13). Giordano Bruno (Bruno of Nola) is suggested by “Browne” and “Nolan,” and the word “dip” follows each speaker’s utterance, recalling “tip” from the Museyroom section. The dip might suggest payment or the quaffing of a drink after speaking, in which case tip might now imply the tipsiness that accompanies an Irish wake. What is significant in this section is that the repetition of war imagery, the invitation to a tryst, and the role of Kate as janitrix and conveyer of information are preceded by “mewseyfume.” The overture of Finnegans Wake repeats.

David Hayman’s “Male Maturity or the Public Rise & Private Decline of HC Earwicker: Chapter II.3” explores the genetic developments behind this section. He writes, “So the passage that began with Kipling’s ‘boots’ has ended with the chromolithograph that hangs on the ‘mizzatint wall,’ which may be the immediate ‘realistic’ inspiration for the next pub tale” (25) which features Buckley and the Russian General. However, Hayman seems to overstress the intermediary role of the Mewseyfume section. In spite of the section’s relative brevity, its reinforcement of the Museyroom’s Moebius effect repeats the continuous resequencing of histories and orders of experience and knowledge. As with the Museyroom section, the Mewseyfume section twists the border that separates the real and the imaginary. < /p>

What intensifies the Moebius effect is the inclusion of other modes of representation in keeping with the technological accelerations of the 20th Century. The pub in Finnegans Wake comes equipped with all the bells and whistles of today’s sports bar. Earlier in the chapter there appears a radio, a “tolvtubular high fidelity daildialler” (309.14), later in the chapter a television, a “bairdboard bombardment screen” (349.9). Like the chromolithograph hanging on the pub wall--“pub’s pobbel done a stare. On the mizzatint wall. With its chromo for all, crimm crimms” (334.24-25)—neither the radio nor the television represents separate orders of reality. The television engulfs reality, evoking the hyperreal. Like the caves of simulation through which Deleuze’s thinker of eternal return jumps, the television, radio, and chromolithograph suggest no ontological or epistemological categorical differences from the “real.” There are no boundaries. It is this lack of spatial boundary that again collapses distinctions between inside and outside, which in turn collapses history in the face of the virtual that subsumes all.

Hayman’s genetic research uncovers the compositional developments of this section, demonstrating that the drafting of the Mewseyfume section was initially limited to practical concerns. Joyce needed a transition between the story of the Norwegian Captain and the tale of Buckley and the Russian General. It wasn’t until “the second typescript [ . . . ] that Joyce lavished the most care, and it was there that he actually developed his detailed comic portrait of [Kate] the slavey” (26). While it is true that Kate seems to interrupt the storytelling activities of the publicans, the image of the museum, along with a series of historical references that echo the Museyroom section, recalls history as simulation, a fact highlighted by publican storytelling. The walls between history and fiction as well as museum and world are twisted into the Moebius. Not surprisingly, genetic research, as a method of research that forms connections between varied texts, forms part of that rhizome.

Genetic research works out of archives constituting recovered and carefully collated texts, some of which were dated to begin with, while others require a kind of historical detective investigation in order to ascertain date of composition. Finnegans Wake archives maintain an enormous corpus of texts spread throughout libraries, universities, and private collections throughout the world—forming a rhizome, as it were. Such an archive acts as a body of history, charting the development of Work in Progress. Scholars read through drafts and notebooks in order to reconstruct Joyce’s aesthetic process. Genetic reading becomes a natural outgrowth of Finnegans Wake’s intertextual and linguistic complexity. One delves already into texts beyond Finnegans Wake in order to better understand its meanings. Jean-Michel Rabate discusses the “genreader” in James Joyce and the Politics of Egoism:

Facing an expanding archive, the “genreader” will be genetic in that (s)he (like the she-hen viewing literature as a mound of rubbish from which meaning will be finally extracted) is always becoming, and transforming the text whose intentions are to be ascribed to a whole unstable archive, and generic because always poised in some sort of textual and sexual undecidability (27).

Rabate shows that Joyce’s writing anticipates new readings based on that undecidability, always inviting and rebuffing stable meaning, thereby exposing how reading produces meaning, and this includes a reading informed by historical thinking. Rabate writes, “Finnegans Wake is both historical and trans-historical in the way that it exploits current debates about the nature of textuality and transforms them into the text itself” (28). While Rabate is discussing partly a specific occasion in which Joyce chose to incorporate in Finnegans Wake a genetic debate surrounding the Tristan variations, he speaks to a larger issue in the way that Finnegans Wake invites textual debates about itself.

The curious outcome of genetic reading is that, while it historicizes textual relations, as between drafts, it produces a play of language pointing to new potentials. Hayman calls this a “canon in flux” in “Genetic Criticism and Joyce: An Introduction” (29).He points out that

The existence of the manuscript record not only enlarges enormously the textual field by introducing quantities of fresh matter: it also mobilizes matter, accentuating the already-existing instability of a text instinct with productive contradictions. In the process, though few will see this at first, it provides us with fresh sources of delight, more room to play, a field full of surprises (30).

Hayman’s preface to the James Joyce Archive recounts the development of Chapter I of Book I of Finnegans Wake. After having completed the first draft of the Museyroom section in the fall of 1926, Joyce was so “taken with the [ . . . ] episode that he not only stopped to revise but also made a clean copy, freely interpolating sentences, adding characters and action, and revising details” (31). What becomes intriguing is how Joyce reformulated the architecture of the Museyroom through these revisions. The initial version reads “Janitrix, the Mistress Kate. Tip” (BL 47482a f. 92; JJA 44: 17) and then, after what appears to be the word shoes, “This way to the mewseyroom. Mind your hat going in.” (Hat replaces a crossed out word.) The spelling of “mewseyroom” makes it to the immediate redraft but changes to “museyroom” in the typescript later that year (JJA 150).  However, Kate’s exit undergoes different revisions. What first reads as “This way the mewseyroom. Mind your boots going out” is altered in the first draft with “room” crossed out and with “ruim” appearing as its replacement, thus forming “mewseyruim” (BL 47482a f.94; JJA 44: 21). The following redraft instead reads “This way the mewseyroom. Mind your boots goan out” (going was revised to goan) (BL 47482a f. 99; JJA 44: 30). This latter version makes it to the following typescript. However, what stands out over all of these changes is the momentary appearance of the word mewseyruim. While the removal of mewseyroom for museyroom draws overt attention to the museum-like function of this section, the elimination of mewseyruim dismisses the idea of ruin. Positioning the Museyroom in relation to ruin might have better reflected the martial content of the museum or perhaps the dissolution of history itself, as the feats of history lay in ruins soon to be forgotten. One wonders, however, if this would have cast a Modernist sense of trauma and nostalgia on the Museyroom and, by extension, on Finnegans Wake, as the Museyroom section acts as an overture to the whole of Finnegans Wake. The very idea of ruin reflects also an ending and a beginning. Ruin suggests a fixed state of affairs. The Museyroom, however, acts as the end of historicity rather than an as end to a state of affairs before some new state takes its place. The Museyroom, rather, to play off of Hayman’s description of genetic studies, “Provides us with fresh sources of delight, more room to play, a field full of surprises” (32). It acts as a “canon in flux” (33). Such is the paradox of Finnegans Wake as a work that is chronicled by archives but which puts those archives in a state of flux by forming a rhizome between text, reader, and world. The museum opens to the world as the world territorializes the museum. Joyce seems to have anticipated the Centre Georges Pompidou, whose inside opens to the outside.

Perhaps the Museyroom’s Moebius effect invites a comparison between genetic studies and Baudrillard’s genetic model: “It is the gap [between cause and effect, between subject and object] in the process of genetic coding, in which indeterminacy is not so much a question of molecular randomness as of the abolition, pure and simple, of the relation ”(34). A comparison between genetic studies and Baudrillard’s genetic model opens up a simultaneity between what would normally be thought of in terms of stages of composition. This is not to say that one should confuse a 1926 notebook with a book published in 1939—in spite of the errors that accompanied the printing of that book--but it does unseat the practice of privileging an urtext. An urtext functions like an enclosed museum, attempting to suppress the field of instability surrounding its construction. The genetic text, on the other hand, is the Museyroom that exposes history as simulation.

1 This article makes use of the 3rd edition of the original Faber text, which include Joyce’s corrections of the time: James Joyce, Finnegans Wake. (London: Faber and Faber, 1939.)
2 This is to say that the rhythm of the phrase repeats enough that conceptual and orthographic identities can take on greater variation because the rhythmic structure recalls word and concept through inference.
3 Geert Lernout, “The Beginning: Chapter I.1.” How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Study. Eds. Luca Crispi and Sam Slote. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), p. 49.
4 Ibid., p. 56.
5 Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994), p. 10-11.
6 Ibid., p. 11.
7 Ibid., p. 12.
8 In Cause, Principle and Unity Bruno writes that in “the two extremes that are assigned to the extremities of nature’s ladder, we must not see two principles, but only one and the same congruence. There height is depth, the abyss is inaccessible light, gloom is clarity, great is small, the confused is distinct, discord is amity, the divisible is indivisible, the atom is immensity—and all inversely” (11). See Giodarno Bruno, Cause, Principle and Unity. Trans. Robert De Lucca. Ed. Robert De Lucca. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998).
9 Gilles Deleuze, The Logic of Sense. Trans. Mark Lester and Charles Stivale. Ed. Constantin V. Boundas.                (New York: Columbia UP, 1990), p. 11.
10 Ibid., 10.
11 Christine Van Boheemen-Saaf, Joyce, Derrida, Lacan and the Trauma of History: Reading, Narrative and Postcolonialism. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999), p. 36.
12 Gilles Deleuze, The Logic of Sense. Trans. Mark Lester and Charles Stivale. Ed. Constantin V. Boundas. New York: Columbia UP, 1990), p. 7-8.
13 Louis Armand, Techne: James Joyce, Hypertext & Technology. (Prague: Charles University Press, 2003), p. 88.
14 Ibid., 87. Armand uses the musical notation on page 272 of Book II to make his point. Alongside the notation, which is the left margin, the main body of the text reads, “Please stop if you’re a B.C. minded missy, please do. But you should prefer A.D. stepplease” (FW 272.12-14).
15 Ibid., p. 90.
16 Derek Attridge, Joyce Effects: On Language, Theory, and History. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000), p. 88.
17 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari,  A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), p. 23.
18 Derek Attridge, Joyce Effects: On Language, Theory, and History. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000), p. 88.
19 Gilles Deleuze, Difference and Repetition. Trans. Paul Patton.( New York: Columbia UP, 1994), p. 67.
20 Ibid., p. 297.
21 Ibid., p. 295.
22 Ibid., p. 300.
23 Ibid., p. 296-7.
24 Ibid., p. 299.
25 David Hayman, “Male Maturity or the Public Rise & Private Decline of HC Earwicker: Chapter II.3.” How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Study. Eds. Luca Crispi and Sam Slote. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), p. 267.
26 David Hayman, “Male Maturity or the Public Rise & Private Decline of HC Earwicker: Chapter II.3.” How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Study. Eds. Luca Crispi and Sam Slote. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), p. 265.
27 Jean-Michel Rabate, James Joyce and the Politics of Egoism. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2001), p. 207.
28 Ibid., p. 206.
29 David Hayman, “Genetic Criticism and Joyce: An Introduction.” European Joyce Studies 5: Probes: Genetic Studies in Joyce. Eds. David Hayman and Sam Slote. (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1995), p. 13.
30 Ibid., p. 13-4.
31 David Hayman, Preface. Finnegans Wake, Book I, Chapter : A Facsimile of Drafts, Typescripts, & Proofs. The James Joyce Archive. Ed. Michael Groden. (New York: Garland Publishing Inc, 1978),  p. xxiv.
32 David Hayman, “Genetic Criticism and Joyce: An Introduction.” European Joyce Studies 5: Probes: Genetic Studies in Joyce. Eds. David Hayman and Sam Slote. (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1995), p. 14.
33 Ibid., p. 13.
34 Jean Baudrillard, Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994), p. 31.