I’m a big fan of Alan Moore’s Jerusalem, so when the r/ReadersofJerusalem subreddit started a group read of the book, I decided to join in even though I’m already immersed in Ulysses. Below is the first post I made to the subreddit after having re-read the first chapter …
A few things I’m noting … very random, some specific to the way I’m approaching Jerusalem this time around.
Barefoot/Sole/Soul
- During her dream, Alma (soul) notices the Angles’ “feet were naked in the dust and shavings piled like curls of butter. Wouldn’t they get splinters?”
- At one point during the dream, she thinks about a grass slope near Peter’s Church “the grassy slope she pictured Jesus walking … in his long dress with lights all round his head and nothing on his feet.”
- And the wild-eyed kid who Mick assumes is on drugs “stumbled barefoot off across the grit and shattered headlight glass of Scarletewell Street corner.”
For some reason, this reminds me of a line from the Hal Ashby’s 1971 film Harold and Maude, where Maude tells Harold, “The earth is my body; my head is in the stars.” Harold. like Mick, needs to connect with the spiritual, to find the link between earth and sky.
Joyce/Homer
I’m also re-reading Ulysses along with Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey and I can’t help seeing a few vague parallels here.
- It’s perhaps not coincidental that we find a mention of the Iliad (“Truth? Why would I want the truth? I was just making conversation, Warry. I weren’t asking for the Iliad.”)
- The housing project tenants are referred to as “Myrmidons,” who were soldiers Achilles commanded in the Iliad. “Myrmidon” means “ant people” in Ancient Greek, and the image of these housing projects full of “disgruntled man-herds” is a flex on Moore’s part, showing his deep knowledge of Greek mythology and etymology.
- Moore clearly is signaling that we’re embarking on an epic journey here, perhaps similar to the one James Joyce leads us on in Ulysses. Just substitute Northampton for Dublin. Mick’s walk from his house to Alma’s art exhibit is a deep, detailed dive into the sights and smells of Northampton. I’m also thinking that Stephen Dedalus and Mick might be similar, with the former running from spiritual matters (Catholicism, in particular) and Mick storming full storm toward them, though he hasn’t realized that at this point.
Language
Moore is an incredible writer. I’ve read/listened to this book several times, and his ability to create detailed, believable characters has kept them alive in my head long after I finished my most recent read. To wit, here’s his description of May Warren:
May Warren, formerly May Vernall, was a stout and freckled dreadnaught of a woman, rolling keg-shaped down the tiled lanes of the covered Fish Market most Saturdays, leaving a cleared path in her wake and gathering momentum with each heavy pace like an accumulating snowball of cheery malevolence, the speckled jowls in which her chin lay sunken shuddering at every step, the darting currants of the eyes pressed deep into the heaped blood-pudding of her face glittering with anticipation of whatever awful treat she’d visited the market to procure.
