WOMEN'SVOICES: THE LATE DRAFTS OF JAMES JOYCEAND MALCOLM LOWRY

Sue Vice University ofsheffield

This is an examination of points of comparison between the works of James Joyce and Malcolm Lowry in tenns of their pre-publication revisions to their central female characters: Yvonne in Under the Volcano, Molly Bloom in Uiysses. Do Lowry and Joyce have methods of revision in common? Are these women characters affected by such revisions in similar ways? Do they become 'freer' and more dialogmd, in Mikhail Bakhtin's tenns, or is there a negative connection between their linguistic gender and the author's masculinity, the wielding of a blue pen over a textual b*?' And Wy, how do such pre-publication revisions affect the textual construction of femininity which we md in the published form? Can a case be made for such authorial transvestism actually putting into question accepted gender roles, voices and behaviour patterns? To start with Under the Volcano,in Yvonne's case a drama occurs in the five full drafts which Lowry produced over ten years2 It could be seen as Oedipal: the dnuiken Consul's daughter becomes the alcoholic Consul's wife; Hugh, the daughter's boyfriend, becomes the Consul's half-brother and possibly adulterous lover of Yvonne; and Laruelle looms increasingly larger, ñrst as a hoverer over the Consul's daughter, then as another possible lover of his wife. However, what Yvonne's metamorphosis fkom daughter to wife also shows is, ñrst, how Lowry's pracíice involved progressively casíing off the conventional intnisive narrator and allowing the characters to speak for themselves, so that, as Bakhtin would say: "we have a pluraiity of consciousnesses, with equal rights, each with its own world" (Bakhtin 1984, 104). Second, Yvonne becomes increasingly similar to her own ex-husband, as the daughter's outspokenness is replaced with a wifely version of his own melancholia. The Published version of Yvonne has been critically treated in a similar manner to Molly Bloom: she is both disapproved of and the eterna1 feminine.' Richard Cross calls her "a rather fxigid Gretchen" to Geofúey's Faust (1980, 40), while Ron Binns speaks of her "~thles~sexuality" (1984,57). It is as ifYvonneYsprevious incarnations in draft cannot be forgotten, and are used as evidence of her ill-faith. Binns says, "Until a very late stage in the writing of the novel, chapter 11 was to have ended with Hugh and Yvonne making love under the trees, Yvonne's impressions of rising towards the stars expressive not of death, but of orgasm" (1984,36). This seems somewhat unfair in view of the lengths to which Lowry went to alter Yvonne's rebelliousness and role, and to excise any unwmted feeling for Hugh, even anger, in the ñnal galleys. Binns treats the drafts as ifthey were the text's unconscious, its repository of 'tme' meaning. This inability to forget the textual past is testimony to the fact that traces of the old meanings can still be detected. The mder who, like Binns, has a total recall of the draf€s,becomes like the obsessively jealous person described by Freud (1922), who pays such pathologically close attention to the loved one's unconscious that they see evidence of betrayal which may really be there, but on such a small scale that anyone else would have ignored it. This reader becomes a kind of double for the Consul, who is a pathologically jealous reader of his ex-wife's unconscious - an unconscious which does in fact consist of traces of the earlier versions of the text. The tremors of sexual guilt Yvonne feels in relation to Lamelle and, paríicularly, Hugh are as much due to the fact that in the earlier versions of the novel she did indeed have a reason for guilt, as to the fact that she still has something on her consciente in the published version: by which time we simply cannot tell what is the case. In the final version Yvonne's deaúi, for insiance, does still sound a bit like that other, less terminal kind of death. Indetenninacy, for which Jonathan Quck praises Joyce in his article on Molly Bloom's mother (1990), has replaced overt and over- insistent statement of the following kind fiom draft four of Under the Volcano : "She knew that the horse would hll her. Her bowels were bayoneted with an agony of fear ... Then the horse carne down" (UBC Templeton 6: 11, 17). Lowry's method is similar to Joyce's in being what James Van Dyck Card has called "accretive" (1984, 12); in the final version the writing is not a seamless whole, as it may look, but a complex bundle of layers. (This is particularly significant in the case of Molly's monologue, which gives the impression of free-flowing naturalness, but is, rather, characterised by aríifice and deliberation.) Elaborate tinkering, the incorporation of large extra units of material, the addition of whole series of details late on - the horses in Under the Volcano;Gibraltar in Ulysses - characterise this accretion. However, such a claim conds a significant difíerence Ween the two. Lowry's revisions are synchronic, in that, at such a late stage, they aect the characters' present and the whole text horizontally. Joyce's, in contrast, are diachronic. He tunnels out a history behind a single character, thereby adding a vertical süand of femininity to his text. In the case of Yvonne, various other changes accompany the transformation fiom daughter to wife. As the daughter of Priscilla in draft - the wife who has left the Consul for Los Angeles - Yvonne is angry and outspoken. She weeps, defends her mother, and comments in the following manner on well-loved episodes in Under the Volcano. To the memorable opening scene of the morning after and the Consul's remark, "'A corpse will be transported by express!"' (Lowry 1947, 43), Yvonne responds, '"Cockeyed, in your dress clothes, at 7 o'clock in the morning, howling about a corpse!"' (UBC 17:3, 4). Of the Consul's failure to recail W.J. Turner's volcano poem she says, " 'How can you hope to remember anythmg accurately, drink absolutely rots your memory, any doctor will te11 you"' (UBC 17:3,8). This is quite difíerent from the self-accusation and reticence of the published Yvonne; coming upon the Consul discussing the corpse, she does not rebuke him but feels herself to be "repellent" (Lowry 1947,48). As she turns into a wife, Yvonne's desire, as well as her anger, gets crossed out - literally, in the second draft: "She stumbled and Hugh picked her up and lifted her over a fallen log. Was it her imagination, her own longing, or had he held her tightly to him for a moment before he set her down?" (UBC Templeton 5: 11, 11). The second sentence is deleted by Lowiy. It suits the indeterminate, less realist nature of the published text that Yvonne moves towards the unexpressed and inexpressible. Instead of 'real' events, adultery and betrayal, these things become part of the Consul's consciousness instad. (It is interesting to speculate why the iinñdelity of a wife is so usefid in Under the Volcano and Ulysses in demonstrating indeterminacy, as if that is the one thing husbands and readers really expect to know the truth about. It is as if this is the ultimate in dialogism: everythmg takes place within people's field of vision, so no fact of the matter can be objectively determine4 to the possible chagrin of the patriarchal world.) Intermediate in the various drafts between angry daughter and silent, published wife, is a manied Yvonne who really is adulterous. It is as if the Consul's fantasy of betrayal is written out to see what it would look like, md it does not look very good: "'Hugh! Say nothing can separate us!"' (UBC Templeton 512, 7-S), and so on. Here, the plot catches up with the Consul's internai state and gives him reasons to be paranoid before moving on to its final indeterminacy and making those mnsless certain. Shards of phrases remain in the published version, often halferased, or transposed, and the altered context at a particular moment also alters the sense of the words, in perfect illustration of Bakhtin's theory of how meaning is constructed. Words are never original, contexts always are: "The meaning of a word is determined entirely by its contex*. In fact, there are as many meanings of a word as there are contexts of its usage" (Volosinov 1986, 79). A particularly striking example of this process is the genesis of a passage in the published Under the Volcano where the Consul wishes Yvonne would come and rescue him "as a daughter ... as he had seen the Indian children lead their fathers" (Lowry 1947, 360). It is one thing to wish this of an undutiful daughter, which Yvonne once was; quite another to wish it of your wife, which she is here. Lowry treats his own work as he does the writing of others, extracting and grafting into a coherent surface. (A similar family shifl occurs in Joyce's last changes to "Penelope", where Molly's memories of motherhood usually alter to refer to Milly, rather than Rudy: "what 1 went through with Rudy nobody would believe" becomes, in the corrections to the Rosenbach manuscript, "what 1 went through with Milly nobody would believe cutting her teeth too" (Card 1984, 92); and "1 had a great breast of rnilk with Rudy" tum into "1 had a great breasi of milk wiíh Milly enough for two" (Card 1984, 109).* The changes in familial relations occur as the Consul imagines them and he converts Yvonne into his faithless wife, Priscilla. He drunkenly calls his daughter the wrong name and then realises that the logical extension of this iramíormation is that he has been cuckolded by Yvonne's boyfhend Hugh, the man who is also his own prospective son-in-law - and who becomes instad, in published fonn, his half-brother: "Secretly he had always longed to appear to good advantage before Yvonne, to show her what a bargain her mother had los4 no - he grew flushed at the thought - Yvonne was her mother, his own Pnscilla, Hugh a rival, a Laruelle, to be dispatched" (UBC 20:4, 19). Laruelle at this point has nothing to do with Yvonne, but it is as if the Consul has mgnised this as a possibility which goes on to be fulñlled, and connects his wife, logically enough, with Hugh: "In the silence rancorous, chaotic thoughts sprang up at him. Vronsky and Anna: Priscilla and Hugh" (UBC 3: 10,36). The quadrangle of Under the Volcano,which is to be condensed out of these separate elements, is prefigmd here in draft for the first time. The Consul's errors become equivaient to and precursors of Lowry's corrections. Yvonne undergoes a lightning maturation into her own mother, keeping her own name but necessitating intricate alteration of tenses - in fact, Yvonne's two personae in Under the Volcano, the one who has come back on the Day of the Dead and the one in the past before she lefi Geow,roots in what was origuiaily two different women. "Priscilla had aiso cailed the country too divine" is aitered on the typescript to, "Yvonne had cailed the country too divine when they first came" (UBC 22:3, 155); instad of dividing Yvonne up into a loving, if hot-tempereú, present daughter and an absent ex-wife, the two are brought together here as the same person separated by time. The total effect of the various changes over ten years' rewriting is, in Yvonne's case, that she becomes more silent, more unhappy, more passive, and less angry; she ends up deriving identity solely from her loved one and his plight, codependent on alcohol. And on another level, she and the rest of the text become "better", herseif less like a soap-operatic cipher, the context richer with more implication, less description. (Ths is less clearly true of Joyce's rewritings, which are more homogenous than Lowry's; by accident, the latter's radically alter the structure and genre of his novel.)' Yvonne appears to correspond to all five of the melancholic traits Freud notes in his essay "Mourning and melancholia": one, "a profoundly painful dejection"; two, "abrogation of interest in the outside world"; three, "loss of the capacity for love"; four, "inhibition of al1 activity"; and five, "a fall in selfesteem" (1917, 254-Q6 According to Freud, melancholics act as if someone has died without realising that the loss is really an internal one. Freud's essay has been used by analysts treating aicoholics; the assumption is that the ego-loss leading to melancholia is the result of internalising a lost or disappointing object. This is a process alcoholics keep repeating through constant introjection of the object by drinking it. The problem with describing Yvonne as melancholic in the Freudian sense, is ihat Freud's discussion is about male victims of melancholia. Luce Irigaray (1985) suggests that this must be so by definition - according to Freud's own descriptions of female sexuaiity, melancholia is central to women's very being and therefore not a special, pathological state. Passivity, lack of interest in sex or the outside world, loss of the capacity to love: these are traits of Yvonne as a woman, and of the Consul as an alcoholic. Draft revisions thus rnake Yvonne into a figure similar to her husband: a melancholic, suffering from a "sourceless sorrow". In Yvonne's case this sorrow may be regret at the place of femininity in a man's world and a male text. In the case of Molly in Ulysses, there are several distinct areas of sigmfication added to the Rosenbach manuscript; the corrections and additions which rnake up the published version come from Rosenbach's own versos, from additions to the additions, typescript additions, five generations of galleys, and one of page proofs. The eighth sentence, equivalent to the last seven pages of the Gabler edition, of "Penelope" appears separately, hand-written, Card guesses, while the typist was at work on the rest of the manuscript (Card 1984, 3 1);' Joyce was composing "Penelope" - and "Iihaca" - while workmg on the ñrst sets of page proofs of the rest of the text, in the summer of 1921 (Rabaté 1991, 252). These areas of change are: referentes to Molly's Gibraltar background; to her vanished mother, Lunita Laredo; to incdawareness of and interest in sexual dserence, including references to people's clothing and hair; a move from the spoken to the den,especially in the case of numbers and punctuation; and many of the overt examples of athnation: at least thirty insíances of "yes" appear post- Rosenbach. (Molly also, of course, says "no" with some fiequency.) These areas are all linked; it is as if Joyce were seeúing the text with an unconscious in "Penelope" with these last revisions, giving it what Julia Kristeva has deda "semiotic disposition" (Kristeva 1983, 87). 1 do not mean by this that Molly's voice is an example of écriture fepninine. As Derek Attridge has pointed out, any homogenous flow in "Penelope" is the effi of printing and reading, not the thinking of a womanly mind (Attridge 1989; and Devlin 1991, 77). Analogously, what looks like Joyce buying into rather foolish stereotypes of femininity is actually his "selfconscious anatomy of ferninine as well as inasculine roles" (Devlin 1991,77); what one looks to for "authenticity" in either form or content is by no means straightfoward. This fact is signalled by the last-minute changes to the Rosenbach manuscript which involve increased awareness of orthography. For insiance, "and the oysters 216 a dozen" becomes "per doz" (Card 1984, 88); "will he take a first class for me" turns into "1st class" (Card 1984, 101). This emphasises both that what we are dealing with is a printed text, where such distinctions between numbers as words or figures are posible, and not a privileged insight into a female mind; also that Molly has a typographidy aware memory: as Kimberly Devlin says of the new costume Molly imagines herself wearing to greet Stephen - "a peachblossom dressing jacket like the one long ago in Walpoles only 816 oa 1816" (Joyce 1986, 18.1497-8) - this is gart, "scripted by contempomy advertising .. . as the prices and unmistakable ad lingo ... make clear" (Devlin 1991,79). The addition of the orthographical is clearest in an i-ce which never rnade its way into the pre- Gabler published versions of Ulysses (it appears in the Gabler edition: Joyce 1986, 18.730). The following sentence was marked to be inserted: 'lour sad bereavement sympathy 1 always make that mistake and newphew with 2 double yous in" (Card 1984, 116), with the offending letters, "h" in sympathy and "w" in nephew, to be printed with a slash through them. As Card points out, the typesetters ignore4 or could not reproduce, Joyce's insiruction "w reproduisez ainsi" (Card 1984, 158), so that although the relevant letters are "crossed out" in the Rosenbach manUSCnpt and the typescript which followeú, they are not in the galleys, which makes nonsense of Molly's, "1 always make that mistake". (It is interesting to note that any typesetter of post-structuralist te-, particularly those of Derrida or Lacan, must today have the faciiiíy to reproduce letters and words thus "under erasure"; Joyce was clearly ahead of his time in this matter too.) Again the formaliy textual and the mimetically human intersect effdvely yet paradoxidy; the changes Joyce makes in order for Molly to seem more "roundeú" can only be ones which increase the text's writtenness and its distance fiom matters of human character. In Under the Volcuno, too, additions make the novel more textually scmpulous and selfanscious, and as a consequence the characters they constitute become more "rounded"-seerning; this is a curious example of an increase in writtenness making the text paradoxically appear more transparent and less written. All these areas of addition to "Penelope" are linked by their textuality. The semiotic realm they impart to the text is consiructed out of a Bakhtinian polyphony of voices from various sources. To start with Gibraltar: several critics have pointed out that we get a tourist'seye view through Molly, and they suggest Joyce could find no realist account of the everyday. What Molly recalls as a time of flower-laden, and remarkably boring, leisure took place on a por, humid, unhealthy British ganison there. However, determining the textual process of construction and revision not only explains but consiitutes this fictional oddity. The way Molly (and the way Yvonne) is put together textually fits very well with, and is indeed indistinguishable from, what we might cal1 her "temperament" - circling around associatively from one subject to another, intermittently returning to certain central themes, moving widely in time and space. If Joyce is accretive, then so (and therefore) is Molly. As Phillip Herring puts it, "Moliy's memory of Alameda concerts as occasions for flirtations is indebted to the Gibraltar Dzrectories and the 1878 edition of Ford" (1978, 503). Expressed in this way, rather than ascribing her memories to a Gibraltar childhood, it is clear that Molly is a textual entity, as her memories are literally consüucted out of the shards of other texts - which not she but Joyce has read. Presumably we are supposed to mgnise that Molly is made out of the "stylised" (Bakhtin 1984, 189-90) and artificial language of tourist pamphiets, as Yvonne in llnder the Volcano is in her own chapter rendered not by the narrator but by the discourse of a movie magazine (Lowq 1947, 261-4).8 Jonathan Quick suggests that Molly has been listening to her father's censored and colourful version of the past, rather than that Joyce has been reading the wrong books. Herring concludes that Gibraltar is a "dash of colour not meant to be examineú closely" (1978, 516), but close examination is in fact essential to determine that Molly's memories are a giant case of what Bakhtin calls "active double-voiced words", specifically here what he terms "hidden dialogicalitf (Morson and Emerson 1990,156): that is, words which recal1 their origins and react to "the unspoken words of another person" (Bakhtin 1984, 197). In this case, the silent other voice is that of "Majof Tweedy, who, Quick claims, would have known of the seamier side of life in Gibraltar which Molly never mentions - smuggling, prostitution, the ghettoising of dií3erent groups of people - which is conspicuous by its absence. Tweedy deliberately, and Molly unconsciously, are covering up a secret concerning Molly's mother, whose very name, Quick suggests, is a "pseudo-Iberian transmogntiication of Lily Langtry" (1990, 225), a figure Kimberly J. Devlin suggests Molly herself identifies with (1991, 75). Qwck connects Lunita with Bella Cohen, and suggests Molly may be the child of a prostitute; whether or not we are meant to divine this, what does seem clear is that the whole area surrounding Molly's mother is as indetenninate as Molly's lovers. It has been pointed out that if Molly's mother were really Jewish, surprisingly little awareness of that culture or of Gibraltarian prejudice exists in her thoughts; however, a different effect is achieved by this ambiguity. Children take on their mother's faith in Jewish law, because at least one is usually certain whose mother a child is, even ifthe father is not known; in Molly's case uncertainty about Jewishness - she pretends to read the Hebrew on gravestones (Joyce 1986, 18.837) - represents the even more surprising uncertainty about her own mother. The references to the mother Molly never had are added by Joyce at the same time as those to Gibraltar. Molly's memories of her youth concem equally a lost, idealised maternal realm: a Gibraltar which never existed, and a beautiiüi, exotic Jewish mother she may also never have had. (Tweedy's voice can even be heard in Molly's comparison of her own looks to her mother's - as she does not remember Lunita, we must be hearing Tweedy's words ventriloquized by Molly: "I've my mothers eyes and figure anyhow" (Joyce 1986, 18.890-1) The question put by Suzette Henke is thus answered: "How, one might wonder, does Molly know that she has Lunita's 'eyes and figure?' ... This is one of the titillating gaps in Joyce's text" (1990,250). Like Stephen (a point made by Shari Benstock in Textualizing the Feminine (1991))' Molly cannot properly take up her place in the symbolic order without fírst recognising and then rejecting her mother - losing her is not enough. Yet it is also as if Molly is always ahady motherless, simply an exaggerated version of what is true of ali subjects in the symbolic realm. Luce Irigaray argues that maternity within patriarchy curiails both the mother, who can only ovewhelm or abandon, and the daughter, who is in exile. Molly is both a geographid and (therefore) a psychic exile. Women's apparently privileged relation to loss of the mother and castration (she turns into her own mother, far from losing her; she may be lacking but she is not castrate4 and therefore has not lost the phallus either) means that women's relation to signifícation is problematic, as use of language requires desire and therefore loss: as Mary Ann Doane puts it in Femmes Fatales, "Prohibition, the law of limitation, cannot touch the littie girl .. . She can only mime representation" (199 1, 171 -2). Devlin points out that while Molly, and al1 women, may "masquerade" because that is how femininity operates under patriarchy, Molly alw indulges in the more subversive practice of "mimiay": she appropriates ironically "culturally determined images" which, under the sign of masquerade, are assumed and intedsed "passively and unconsciously" (1991,72). By "doing" ideology, Molly undoes it. The additions Joyce makes to "Penelope" concerning sexual difFerence help confirm Kristeva's observation in Powers of Horror that the "archaic maternal abject" is present in Joyce's work (1982, 22-3). Now Molly's identity as a mother as well as a daughter is relevant. The huge and therefore unspeakable debt of life owed to all mothers surfaces on occasions when, according to Kristeva, the subject feels bodily disgust at one of three things: food, waste or sexual Werence. The latter categov is exempliñed by, for example, menstruation; menstrual blood is surrounded by ali kinds of cultural taboos to keep the social body clean. Kristeva says, "menstrual blood ... stands for the danger issuing from within identity (social or sexual); it threatens the relationship between the sexes" (1982, 71) - its presence is a reminder of motherhood, and of the repressed maternal debt. It is essential to patriarchy to maintain sexual Werence, in the home and workplace, but menstruation is a feature of that difFerence which strays too close for comfort to the lost maternal body. Molly's abject maternity is afñrmed by her menstruating at the chapter's en4 and this event seems to be prepared for by the increasing emphasis on sexual Werence which was added to the Rosenbach manuscript by Joyce, both in terms of culturally coded Werence - "only of course the woman hides it" (Card 1984, 87), "a woman is so sensitive" (Card 1984,93) - and a more psychoanalyticaüy inflected Werence - the girl in Gibraltar "didn't make much secret of what she hadn't" (Card 1984, 104), "grey matter they have it ail in their tail" (Card 1984, 115). The kind of fear Molly's toying with gender difference can induce is summarised by Bariiara Creed in an article on the ñim Alien Wdley Scotí, 1982), which Creed says presents as homfjing the "archaic mother, the reproductive/generative mother" (1989, 72). This is a concept Joyce seems almost to have anticipated in his remarks to Hamiet Weaver, that he meant in "Penelope" to portray the earth, "which is prehuman and presumably posihuman" (1966, 180). The late additions Joyce made to "Penelope" which relate to sexual difference fail into two camps. First, the ones which accentuate Molly's consciousness of heterosexual norms, through memories of tktation, thoughts about men's relations with women, and calling other women "bitches" and "sparrowfarts'' ((3rd 1984, 40, 123). Second, there are those which threaten to collapse the signifiers of gender difference. For example, there are several additions concerning mousiaches, most of which do not belong to men - Molly thinks fellatio may explain women's facial hair (Card 1984,143). However, Molly may simply be recognising the necessity for women under patriarchy to masquerade - either as extremely feminine, or cross-dressed as men.g Hair, added to Rosenbach, is mgnised by Molly as an index of femininity; as Devlin points out, "[iln Molly's thoughts, identity is inextricably linked to sigmñers in a variety of forms" (1991, 72), and when that hair is false, as in the case of Mrs Rubio, Molly knows it, through her re- to "see the cultural as natural" (199 1,81). Elizabeth Grosz points out the phallic power of a fe& hairless woman - "The narcissistic woman sirives to make her body into the phallus ... She paints/shaves/plucks!dyes/diets/exercises her body" (1990, 12 1): ironically enough, emphasising your own gender identity in an extreme way moves you closer to the other gender. Molly's pride in her own femininity coupled with interest in transgressing gender boundaries suggests this; the mousiachioed woman, according to this logic, is most "feminine", unlike her phallic, shaved female counterpart. Finally, Molly's habit of being affirmative: Joyce quoted Goethe in referente to her - "1 am the flesh which afñrms" (Joyce 1966, 170) - which rather sinisterly sounds like Freud's pronouncement on Dora, that there is no word in the unconscious for no. Dora may have thought she was rejecting Herr K. when he tried to kiss her by the lake - in fact she was simply repressing an afñrmation normal in an inexperienced young woman of fourteen caught in a lonely spot by a middie-aged family friend (Freud 1905; Moi 1981). Women are signifieds without a sigmgsystem of their own; their voices may be disregarded, as the scene in the ñim Thelrna and Louise @dey Scott, 1991) shows where rapist Harlan is killed. He will not listen to Thelma's "no", so Louise shoots him. Molly's fondness for saying "yes" and "no" do not necessarily correspond to positive and negative mesof mind. As Card points out, the things Molly dislikes outnumber those she likes (the former include "people who come at ail hom answer the door you think its the vegetables" (Joyce 1986, 18.334), but, as he adds, it is far from clear that "what she is against is 'negative'. If hating women with knives is negative, what are we in favor of?" (Card 1984,72 - a revealing choice of example). Maternity is one route of access to sigmñcation for women, towards a voice which could be heard to say other things than 'les", as Kristeva has suggested: "for the mother ... the Other is not (only) an ariiitrary sign, a necessary absence: it is the child ... ", and if "to love (her child) is, for a woman, the same thing as to write" (quoted in Sdeiman 1985, 261),1° then mate* and signiñcation are Mted in one plenitudinous stroke; as Molly says of men: "1 woddnt give a snap of my two ñngers for all their learning why dont they go and create something" (Joyce 1986, 18: 1564-5). Devlin sees the irony of a male author's masculine-imitating female character saying such a thing as a positive feature of "Penelope": "blutting on 'womanliness' that repeatedly puts on 'manhess' allowed Joyce to articulate one of his canniest critiques of the ideology that produces the oppressive categories themselves" (1991, 89). The assumption of a feminine voice may be more likely to happen if women do not have to imitate men in order to speak, and men do not have sole charge of describing women's thoughts.

1 am indebted to Richard Brown, Neil Corcoran, John Hdenden, Erica Sheen and Andrew Treip for bibliographical suggestions and helpfül discussion related to this paper. l Sue Murphy notes that Joyce used thiieen different media in the annotations to the proofs of Ulysses, and lists their different colours. They range from very dark brown ink to purple pencil or crayon used only once (Murphy 1991,260-1). Lowry's typescripts are usually annotated in graphite pencil. The William Templeton Papers, which 1 quote fiom here together with the more complete draft versions of Under the Volcano, are miscellaneous but acial transitional collections of typed chapter variants and handwritten notes in the UBC Library Special Collections Division. See Victor Doyen's discussion of dating the individual dr&. References in the text take the form 'UBC Templeton 1: 2, 3', where the numberi refer respectively to box, folder and page number. Draft series other than the Templeton collection are referred to as 'UBC 1:2,3'. ' See Bonnie Kime Scott's survey of the critica1 reception of Molly Bloom as altemating between earth mother and "shilling whore" (Scon 1984, 156-83). By contrast, the references to Rudy himself are changed in Rosenbach to implicit hints: "when was that 93 the canal was fiozen yes it was a few months after" is added (Card 1984,89). Michael Worton makes a similar point about Toumier's rewritings, which he clairns are the product of a "desire not to write bener but differently" (Worton 1984, 11). See also my "Mourning, Melancholia and Femininity" in Under the Volcano (Vice 1994). ' See Arnold (199 l), and the special issue of Studies rn the Novel devoted to the controversy over the Gabler edition of Ulysses. See also Head (1992) on intemalized use of romantic fiction discourse in Joyce's "Eveline" from Dubliners. "Masquerade" suggests both dressing up as what (gender) you are not, and the very construction of gender itself, which also depends on the successful deployment of certain signúiers. The term was f& used by Joan Riviere in her article "Womanliness as a Masquerade" (1966), in which Riviere discusses a case study of a female academic who glamourized herself excessively to compensate for "unwomanly" intellectual prowess. See also Devlin (1991) passim for an excellent discussion of Molly and masquerade. 'O Susan Rubin Suleiman (1985, 366-7) quotes fiom Kristeva's article, "Un Noveau Type d'intellectuel: Le dissident", Te1 Que1 74, winter 1977. Qne might of course question the biological basis for this assertion.

Arnold, Bruce. 1991. The Scandal of Ulysses. London: Sinclair-Stevenson. Attridge, Derek. 1989. "Molly's Flow: the Writing of 'Penelope' and the Questions of Woman's Language". New Fiction Studies. 543-65. Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1984. Problems of Dostoevsky's Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Benstock, Shari. 1991. Textualizing the Feminine. Tulsa: University of Oklahoma Press. Binns, Ronald. 1984. Malcolm Lowry. London: Metheun. Card, James Van Dyck. 1984. An Anatomy of Penelope. London: Associated University Presses. Creed, Barbara. 1989. "Horror and the Monstrous Feminine". Fantasy and the Cinema. Ed. James Donald. London: BFI Publishing. 63-90. Cross, Richard. 1980. Malcolm Lowry. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Devlin, Kimberly. 1991. "Pretending in 'Penelope' : Masquerade, Mimicry and Molly Bloom". Novel. 7 1-89. Dome, Mary Ann. 1991. "Woman's Stake: Filming the Female Body". Femmes Fatales: Feminism, Film Theory, P~sychoanalysis.London: Routledge. 165- 77. Doyen, Victor. 1973. "Fighting the Albatross of SeK A Genetic Study of the Literary Works of Malcolm Lowry". Unpublished doctoral dissertation: University of Louvain. Freud, Sigmund. 1953. The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Ed. James Strachey. London: Hogarth Press. Grosz, Elizabeth. 1990. Jacques Lacan: A Feminist Introduction. London: Routledge. Head, Dominic. 1992. The A4odernist Short Story. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Henke, Suzette. 1990. James Joyce and the Politics of Desire. London: Routledge. Herring, Phillip F. 1978. "Toward an Historical Molly Bloom". ELH 40. 501-2 1. Ingaray, Luce. 1985. Speculum of the Other Woman. Ithaca: Come11 University Press. Joyce, James. 1986. Ulysses: The Corrected Text. Ed. Hans Walter Gabler. New York: Random House. (citations by page and line number). Kristeva, Julia. 1982. Powers of Horror. New York: University of Columbia Press. ----. 1983. Desire in Language. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Lowry, ~alcolm.1947. Under the Volcano. New York: Reynal and Hitchcock. Moi, Toril. 1981. "Representations of Patriarchy: Sexuality and Epistemology in Freud's Dora". Feminist Review 9. 60-73. Morson, Gary Saul and Caryl Emerson. 1990. Mikhail Bakhtin: Creation of a Prosaics. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Murphy, Sue. 1991. "Conservation Treatment for the Final Proofs of James Joyce's Ulysses". Joyce Studies Annual. 257-64. Quick, Jonathan. 1990. "Molly Bloom's Mother". ELH 57. 233-40. Rabaté, Jean-Michel. 1991. '"Thank Maurice' : A Note about Maurice Darantiere". Joyce Studies Annual. 245-5 1. Riviere, Joan. 1966. "Womanliness as a Masquerade". Psycholanalysis and Female Sexuality. Ed. Hendrik M. Ruitenbeek. New Haven: College and University Press. 209-20. Scott, Bonnie Kime. 1984. Joyce and Feminism. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Suleiman, Susan Rubin. 1985. "Writing and Motherhood. The W)other Tongue. Eds. S. Garner et al. Ithaca: Comell University Press. 252-77. Vice, Sue. 1994. "Mourning, Melancholia and Feminity in Under the Volcano". Beyond the Pleasure Dome: Writing and Addiction Pom the Romantics. Eds. Sue Vice, Matthew Campbell and Tim Armstrong. SheSeld: Sheflíeld University Press. Volosinov, V.N. 1986. Marxism and the Philosophy of Language. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Worton, Michael. 1984. "Michel Tournier and the Masterful Art of Rewriting". PN Review. 41: 10-15.