Introduction
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1 Introduction Many readers of Ulysses are familiar with the story of the novel’s first publication: it was published in Paris on 2nd February 1922, the occasion of Joyce’s 40th birthday, by the American-born Sylvia Beach, who willingly turned Shakespeare and Company, her English language lending library and book shop, into a publishing house specifically for the purpose of issuing the first edition of Ulysses. Joyce did not just write Ulysses; he also played a significant role in determining the physical shape of the first edition, an octavo which runs to a lengthy 732 pages. For example he specified the colour of the cover: the blue of the Greek flag is intended as a subtle reminder of the book’s Homeric substructure; and he chose the typeface, Elzevir, after seeing samples of the text set by the printer, Maurice Darantiere, a printer of high quality limited editions, with a significant reputation for attention to detail. That first edition—which can be downloaded from the website of the Modernist Versions Project—is often cited as one of the icons of high Modernism.1 Yet that first edition was not the first iteration of Ulysses in print. Joyce never visited the US, but Ulysses was first published serially in the US periodical, the Little Review, between 1918 and 1920. This book discusses the textual and contextual significance of Ulysses as it appeared in the Little Review. Ulysses is a work which concludes twice: first with Molly remembering the moment at which she decided to commit to Bloom (‘yes I said yes I will yes’) and secondly with the epigraph, Trieste-Zurich-Paris, 1914-1921. These final words, like the blue cover of the first edition, are an instance of what Gerard Genette would describe as ‘paratext’, paratextual features being bibliographical elements which adorn ‘the fringe of the printed text’ and help to determine its ‘whole reading’.2 As Genette argues, epigraphs have a very particular type of effect and 1 For the searchable and downloadable digital facsimile of the first edition, see http://web.uvic.ca/~mvp1922/portfolio/ulysses-shakespeare-co-1922-1st- edn/. Or see the print facsimile (with the same pagination), James Joyce, Ulysses (Alexandria, VA.: Orchises Press, 1998) or Jeri Johnson (ed.), Ulysses (Oxford: World’s Classics, 1993), also a facsimile of the 1922 text, but reduced in size. 2 Gérard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation, translated by Jane E. Lewin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 2. 2 function, by offering a commentary on the text ‘whose meaning it indirectly specifies or emphasizes’.3 The epigraph to Ulysses asserts that the precise facts of biography, history, and cultural geography might be determinants in the reading and interpretation of the text. It gestures to the significance of Joyce’s sustained compositional achievement in the extraordinary circumstances of upheaval and dislocation which the First World War, its aftermath and related events brought about for the lives of millions, including Joyce and his family. The epigraph might also be read as an aspect of Joyce’s self-fashioning. Looking back on what he had written, it was convenient for Joyce to be able to associate the achievement of Ulysses with the major events of the period, including not just the ‘Great War’, but also the Russian Revolution of 1917, the Versailles Treaty of 1919, and, of course, the dramatic events in Ireland: the Easter Rising of 1916, the War of Independence (1919-1921), and the ratification of the Anglo-Irish Treaty, which led to the foundation of a 26 county independent Irish state in January 1922, just as Joyce was completing the book. Most readers agree that Molly’s final yes placed alongside Trieste-Zurich- Paris, 1914-1921 announces the conclusion of Ulysses with a flourish. Rather fewer have noted the way in which Joyce’s triumphant conclusion glides over the messy material circumstances in which the text was composed. Some of the facts which the epigraph asserts can easily be unpicked. For instance, Joyce appears to have first thought of writing something about Ulysses when in Rome in 1906 (L II, 190); it is by no means clear that he did much work on the text in 1914; and he completed the early chapters of the work not in Trieste, nor in Zurich, but in Locarno (Switzerland) in the closing months of 1917. These small facts suggest the danger of accepting Joyce’s version of events, of accepting Joyce as his own interpretive agent. Read against historical fact, the shaped nature of the epigraph also underscores the difficulty of making clear statements about the compositional history of Ulysses. Abundant evidence of Joyce’s work on the text survives, in the form of notebooks, draft and fair copy manuscripts, typescripts and proofs. But most of this enormous and rich archive documents the middle and 3 Genette, Paratexts, 156, 157. 3 latter stages in the composition of the work, making it difficult to establish how, when and why Joyce set about the writing of Ulysses. It is much easier to be precise about the facts of the work’s serialization. Joyce first mentioned his work on Ulysses to Ezra Pound in June 1915, eighteen months after Pound had written to introduce himself to Joyce and suggest their mutual interest in writing which was ‘markedly modern’.4 The two men did not meet until June 1920, but from 1915 they established a regular correspondence, and Pound became an important supporter for Joyce, backing up his conviction that the manuscript of A Portrait of the Artist was ‘damn fine stuff’ by arranging for the entire text to be serialized in the Egoist, one of the London literary journals with which he was informally associated.5 In the spring of 1917, when Pound became ‘European editor’ of New York’s Little Review, Joyce’s name was high on his list of essential contributors, along with that of T. S. Eliot and Wyndham Lewis. He wrote encouraging Joyce to send ‘Anything you have in your desk’, ‘any short stuff you have and that you can afford to sell (magazine rights only) for £2 per thousand words’: It has always struck me that you could do a unique series of ‘portraits’, 1000 to 2000 words, Priests in Padua. Students in Dublin, etc. God knows where you have been and what you have gazed upon with your microscopic, remarkable eye. Rough drafts of parts of Ulysses, if they wouldn’t interfere with later serial publication of the whole.6 But Joyce was not the kind of writer to publish ‘rough drafts’ and, unlike Pound— in terms of his psychology as a writer—did not feel such a need to be part of a movement. He had also recently received the news that he was to be paid an anonymous donation of £200 by ‘an admirer’ of his writing (L II, 389), a gift which undoubtedly buoyed up his confidence, and may have made him less inclined to dissipate his energies by writing for journals. Over the spring and summer of 1917 Joyce’s entire focus was on the composition of Ulysses, and the work was still at quite a preliminary stage. Pound 4 J to Pound, 30 June 1915 (Yale, unpublished); Pound to J, 15 December 1913, EP- JJ, 18. 5 Pound to J, 17 and 19 January 1914, EP-JJ, 24. 6 Pound to J, 9 February 1917, EP-JJ, 92. 4 began to despair that Joyce would ever contribute anything to the Little Review. He wrote to Margaret Anderson, editor of the journal, telling her: ‘We may as well take Joyce’s name off the announcement list. Heaven knows when he’ll get anything done.’7 But then, just days after what he described to Pound as ‘a violent Hexenschuss which incapacitated me from moving for about twenty minutes’ (SL 227), and days before an iridectomy (an operation to remove part of the iris in his left eye), Joyce wrote to Pound in an uncharacteristically business-like manner and informed him, with regard to Ulysses, that he would be prepared to ‘consign it serially from 1 January next, instalments of about 6000 words’ (SL 227). Pound was collaborating with Harriet Shaw Weaver (1876-1961), editor of the Egoist, the source of the £200 gift, and the individual who would, in due course, become Joyce’s most significant financial supporter.8 Together Weaver and Pound had hatched a plan for the simultaneous dual serialization of Ulysses in the Egoist in London and the Little Review in New York. The US was not, at the time, a signatory to the Berne Convention, and the rationale for printing in New York was compliance with the ‘manufacturing clause’ of the 1891 International Copyright Act, which would enable the protection of Joyce’s copyright in the US.9 Joyce, in all likelihood, did not fully understand this aspect of copyright law, and was probably attracted by the prospect of dual serialization because it gave him access to a widely dispersed English language readership and, as he noted, it would bring ‘double fees’ (SL 227). These arrangements led, eventually, to the first thirteen chapters of Ulysses being published in the Little Review, as well as the first instalment of chapter 14. The exact chronology can be seen in the following table 7 Pound to Margaret Anderson, 10 August 1917, P-LR, 108. 8 Weaver played a role of fundamental and shaping significance in Joyce’s career. Despite a significant archive at the British Library and sources such as John Firth (ed.), ‘Harriet Weaver’s Letters to James Joyce, 1915–1920’, Studies in Bibliography, 20 (1967), 151–188 and Jane Lidderdale and Mary Nicholson, Dear Miss Weaver: Harriet Shaw Weaver, 1876-1961 (New York: The Viking Press, 1970), the relationship remains difficult to interpret, in terms of psychology.