This article reads Finnegans Wake as a response to technological innovations in the field of acoustics in the early twentieth century. Drawing on the work of sound-theorists such as Steve Goodman, Jacques Attali, and Paul Virilio, it shows how Joyce's familiarity with electronic components and musicological theories of 'fundamental frequency' allowed him to articulate a vision of the 'vibrant body'. Finnegans Wake is thus an example of 'haptic literature' that uses the interface between the body and technology to generate an anti-fascist biopolitics.

This essay argues that there is a precise, mathematical notion of 'continuity' at work in 'Ithaca', which Joyce drew from Bertrand Russell's Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy (1919), and that this concept helps to clarify the kind of continuity we find in Joyce's 'logical fictions'. Joyce copied both 'continuity' and 'logical fictions' from Russell's Introduction, along with dozens of other phrases from the book, many of which he worked into 'Ithaca'. Joyce's use of Russell has been remarked on before, but this paper examines Joyce's notes from a logical point of view, observing that Russell's book is as much an introduction to logic as mathematics. Joyce's results in logic and mathematics at Belvedere and University College Dublin show that he had greater facility in these subjects than is usually assumed, which helps explain his interest in the logico-mathematical concepts Russell expounds. The way Joyce inserted terms like 'continuity' into 'Ithaca' (U 17.1065) suggests that he was using them in Russell's sense, but at the same time, the literary appropriation of these concepts indicates that Joyce was at least as interested in fictionalizing logic as in the logic of his fiction.

The Dublin James Joyce Summer School, 2018:'Thirty Years On' Alberto Tondello There is always a slight thrill surrounding a 30th birthday celebration. Distinguished either by a momentary crisis or a sense of accomplishment, thirty years of existence mark a point of awareness, a particularly ripe time for a re-evaluation. This year, the Dublin James Joyce Summer School celebrated its 30th anniversary, as Joycean researchers and enthusiasts from around the world gathered once again for the first week of July. Following the practised, consolidated structure of alternating morning lectures, afternoon seminars, and a wide variety of social activities, this year's Summer School seemed to develop around the work of reassessment typical for a 30th birthday. The morning lectures, delivered at the James Joyce Centre by ten exceptional speakers, presented new readings and interpretations challenging what might be seen as well-established ideas on Joyce, his time, and his works. Anne Fogarty, director of the School and Chair of Joyce Studies at UCD, set off this enriching process of re-evaluation with her opening lecture on Monday morning. Focussing on the rise of a new wave of modernism, Fogarty brilliantly analysed works by Anne Enright, Mike McCormack, and Eimear McBride to assess Joyce's political, ethical, and stylistic effects on contemporary Irish writers. Offering an image particularly fitting in a Dublin untouched by rain and struck by an unprecedented heat-wave, Fogarty suggested that Irish writers are learning to write in the light, rather than in the shadow, of James Joyce. This positive approach creates, in turn, a new picture of Joyce as an artist as it defines the contours of a writer who can be an animating force rather than an impediment, and a source of continuous development, rather than the origin of obstructive anxieties. In line with this vision, the morning lectures circled around ideas of influence and collaboration, and revealed through an array of different approaches the [End Page 228] relational forces playing at the heart of the work of the artist and of the scholar alike. Michael Cronin used Herbert Marcuse as a theoretical springboard to revisit some passages from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Differentiating between sexuality and eros, Cronin attempted to revitalize the (erotic) energy at work in A Portrait, showing how the artist is animated not only by cerebral but also by bodily and affective forces. If Cronin ended his talk by considering subjectivity as necessarily relational, Peter Kuch centred his lecture on the many ways in which a marital relationship might be legally interrupted. Presenting some of the research he undertook for his book Irish Divorce/Joyce's 'Ulysses', Kuch depicted the intricacies surrounding Irish divorce between World War I and the 1930s. Drawing from Every Man's a Lawyer (a book Joyce owned), legal texts, and more than 1,500 divorce cases in English and Irish newspapers, Kuch analysed the possibility of divorce faced by Molly and Bloom in the light of historical, legal, and archival sources. Through a similar mix of textual and historical analysis, Fritz Senn took the term 'exile' in its wider possible sense to conduct a fascinating analysis of the linguistic and biographical exiles in Joyce's works. Only a scholar with Senn's degree of knowledge and insight could have moved with such ease from an examination of the real people whom Joyce included—exiled, as it were—in Ulysses, to a close reading of some of Joyce's 'lexical exiles' or, as he put it, 'lexiles'. In his engaging lecture, Senn highlighted the pleasures of reading Ulysses, showing Joyce's ability to make things foreign by constantly breaking down frameworks, by changing the register of his characters, and by modifying words to create new meanings. Digging into textual and biographical material, Elizabeth Bonapfel and Luca Crispi were particularly skilful in questioning the image of Joyce as a solitary genius, pointing out the personal and professional connections which supported his creative work. Pursuing her research on punctuation, Bonapfel reconstructed the compositional history of A Portrait, tracing the changes in the use of dashes from 1904 to its revised, second edition in 1917. Moving dexterously from punctuation, to the complexities of editing...

This note commemorates the recent passing of Alexis Leopold Léon in Southsea, England on 29 June 2018. Born in Paris on 12 September 1925, Alex was one of the last surviving members of the inner Joyce circle during the final decade of the writer's life. It is also a sketch of the lives and legacy of his parents, Paul and Lucie Léon.

This piece discusses William Wilkins, the Dublin poet and schoolteacher mentioned briefly in the 'Nausicaa' episode of Ulysses, by reporting on items in the Maurice Wilkins archive of King's College London. After providing a background to the Wilkins family and William Wilkins especially, it discusses a postcard which ended up in Maurice's possession and offers some suggestions for why Joyce featured William in the novel. It ends with a short reflection on Joyce's creative practices when featuring real individuals and stories.

This article highlights how the Insular iconography of the thirty-first International Eucharistic Congress, 21–6 June 1932, which recast Ireland as an insula sanctorum, plays a significant role in framing the iconography of Finnegans Wake. The cultural ideology informing the congress, centred on the fifteenth centenary of Patrick's mission to Ireland (give or take a year or even a generation in reality). In contradistinction to Joyce's consistent vision of early medieval Ireland, the saints outflanked the sages at this 'internatural convention' (FW 128.27), which defined the Insular period as the wellspring of fifteen hundred years of evangelizing piety, represented by a ministerial chalice with a triskelion superimposed on 'the cross of Cong' (FW 399.280): the official seal of the congress. The Solemn Pontifical Mass of 26 June 1932 emphasized Ireland's unbroken covenant with her early medieval past, as one third of the population of the state, a paradisal host of 'a million souls' (Irish Press, 27 June 1932) descended on the 'fifteen acres' (FW 135.31) in the Phoenix Park. This most contested of imperial spaces, where Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker felt all too comfortable 'throughout his excellency long vicefreegal existence' (FW 3.30–1), was finally reclaimed as holy ground. Much of the population did believe that 'We have seen the Island of Saint and Scholar reborn in our midst' (Drogheda Independent, 2 July 1932). However, the idea that the glories of early medieval Ireland are reanimated in Saorstát Éireann as 'Saint Scholarland' (FW 135.19) is subjected to unremitting scrutiny by Joyce in his parodic recollections of the congress.

The question of what it means to be a good neighbour runs through Joyce's Ulysses. Its two central characters, Stephen Dedalus and Leopold Bloom, are often rebuffed by their ostensible neighbours — Stephen by Buck Mulligan and Haines, Bloom by a whole series of Dubliners — and gradually drift toward each other. They meet at the end of 'Oxen of the Sun', interact throughout the apocalyptic 'Circe' episode, and then the parabolic episodes of 'Eumaeus' and 'Ithaca'. Bloom acts truly neighbourly to Stephen in these episodes, and his actions here and earlier in encounters with others in the novel are depicted as re-enactments of the Good Samaritan parable, perhaps Jesus's most famous story of this kind in Scripture. Reading Ulysses anew, I argue, enables not only a fresh apprehension of its parabolic arc over three of its last four episodes, but also allows us to become involved, caring readers of the sort Joyce desired. How does Ulysses draw us to it, generate affection for it and its characters, perhaps even lead us into caring for the Other? In part, it achieves this care by teaching us to read affectively and affectionately through its reinscription of such narratives as the Good Samaritan parable. We might then perceive it anew as a warm and welcoming fiction that invites us into its world of 1904 Dublin, allowing us to linger on the relationship between Leopold Bloom and Stephen Dedalus, and to understand how they re-enact that parable, so that we might become readers who are hospitable in turn to these characters.

The Dublin James Joyce Summer School, 2–8 July 2017 Shinjini Chattopadhyay The combination of academic and social events at this year's Dublin Joyce School provided the participants with a brilliant opportunity to immerse themselves in the world of James Joyce. The structure of the week-long programme, which comprises two morning lectures, afternoon seminars, and evening social events, led to an intensive and enjoyable and not excruciatingly exerting experience. The beginning of the school was marked by an informal gathering at Buswell's Hotel on a Sunday evening. The gathering brought together veteran Joyceans and new Joyce enthusiasts and promised an exciting week ahead. Anne Fogarty, the director of the school and Professor of James Joyce Studies at University College Dublin, delivered the opening lecture of the school the following morning. Fogarty's lecture was marked by her celebrated authority on modern Irish history and literature. It focused on how Synge and Joyce responded to the Irish Revival. Fogarty argued that Joyce's awareness of the obvious differences and underlying similarities between his literary aesthetics and those of Synge enabled him to perceive Synge at the same time as a literary rival and a literary forefather. Fogarty corroborated her argument with copious illustrations from a variety of Joycean texts including 'The Dead', A Portrait, and Ulysses (especially from 'Scylla and Charybdis'). She suggested that the endings of Riders to the Sea and 'The Dead' come together in their respective depictions of a universal symbolic geography of mourning and loss. Fogarty further explained how in 'Scylla and Charybdis' Stephen recognizes Synge not as an opponent but as a mirror image of himself (U 9.564–80). Marc Mamigonian took the audience beyond the primary text of Joyce's works and spoke about the function of annotations in Joyce's works. He opened his lecture with a fundamental query about who reads Ulysses and whether s/he reads it with annotations. Drawing upon his own experience of annotating the 2012 Alma Classics Ulysses with Sam Slote and John Turner, [End Page 129] Mamigonian stated that the annotator is a curator of facts and s/he should be always alert to the fine distinction between the factual and the interpretive and should avoid disproportionately over-emphasizing aspects which play a minor role in the original text. Mamigonian expressed the opinion that the purpose of appending annotations is to supply the reader with additional information and in order for the information to be reliable the annotator should mention the respective sources for each entry. During the question-and-answer session Fritz Senn made the observation that when an annotation is added to a text, the text gets divided into two parts: one that needs annotations and one that does not. Such an internal distinction within the text leads to a different reading experience. Wim Van Mierlo suggested a new way of considering the construction of Stephen's psychogeography in Ulysses by referring to Guy Debord's 'Theory of the Dérive' (1956). Debord defines the dérive as a basic situationist practice or a technique that the individual implements for rapid passage through varied ambiences. It involves playful-constructive behaviour and awareness of psychogeographical effects, and is thus quite different from the classic notions of the journey or stroll. Van Mierlo claims that Stephen's wanderings through Dublin are dictated by the Debordesque dérive as his peregrinations through the city could be described as a playful unstructured discovery of the cityscape. During the ensuing discussion, Luke Gibbons provided a beautiful coda to the talk by stating that Joyce's sense of place is always entrenched in an awareness of displacement. Fritz Senn, patron of the Dublin school and the Joyce community at large, drew our attention to how conversations in Joyce's works are often forced by characters when they have nothing substantial to say. As a consequence, such conversations lack actual content and are evanescent and desultory. In his talk, Senn performed a typically excellent close reading of several scenes from Dubliners and Ulysses, especially emphasizing the evasive conversation between Bloom and Molly in 'Calypso'. He noted that while Bloom asks Molly superfluous questions in an attempt to forcibly sustain...