Ulysses

Leopold and Molly Bloom’s Functional Dysfunction The relationship between Leopold and Molly Bloom in James Joyce’s Ulysses can be defined paradoxically as a type of functional dysfunction. Joyce candidly and unapologetically presents an unconventional marriage based on the complex interplay between the masochistic aspect of Bloom’s personality and the narcissistic aspect of Molly’s personality. These tendencies attract and complement each other to form a viable and cohesive (or perhaps, more accurately, “codependent”) bond. Prior to the “Circe” episode, it is difficult not to feel sorry for Bloom. He is portrayed as a victim -- a kind-but-weak character who receives little respect from his peers, and who is about to be cuckolded by the wife he adores. As early as the “Calypso” episode, the reader is given a glimpse into the unusual dynamics of the Blooms’ relationship. Bloom, having brought Molly breakfast in bed, and amazingly, delivered to her a letter from her paramour, proceeds to rifle obsequiously through a pile of her dirty undergarments in search of a book that has fallen to the floor. Molly does not thank Bloom for bringing her breakfast, nor does she ask politely for his assistance in finding the book. In fact, she does not ask at all -- she simply sits in bed and commands his compliance by pointing at the general area into which the book might have fallen (52). While Bloom’s obeisance is a bit repellent, this scene strengthens the reader’s sympathy for him while eliciting disapproval for the adulterous and entitled Molly. These sentiments are encouraged until the “Circe” episode. Prior to “Circe,” there have been many illustrations of Bloom’s masochistic tendencies. For example, in addition to his submissive behavior around Molly, it is probably not a coincidence that Bloom shares Leopold Sacher-Masoch’s first name, given that the Bloom character in many ways parallels Severin in Venus in Furs. Specific reference to Sacher-Masoch is made in the “Wandering Rocks” episode on page 193 (when Bloom glances at Tales of the Ghetto while in a bookstore), and additional allusions to Venus in Furs occur at various points in the novel (including a reference on page 194 where Bloom indulges in masochistic fantasies, identifying with Boylan while imagining intercourse between Boylan and Molly). References to Bloom’s effeminacy and his submissive position in his marriage also occur frequently, for example, in the “Cyclops” episode on page 257 when the narrator asks “So the wife comes out top dog, what?” and on page 263, when the Citizen refers to Bloom as a “half and half. . .a fellow that’s neither fish nor flesh.”
Presumably, Bloom’s masochism developed over time as a result of his guilt and feelings of sexual inadequacy in the wake of Rudy’s death. However, Molly’s reference in the “Penelope” episode to role playing in which Bloom wanted her to pretend he was a German emperor during sex make it seem likely that Bloom already had latent masochistic tendencies. Though the novel was obviously written prior to the Holocaust, it still seems a form of self-humiliation for a Jew to pretend to be German. On the other hand, Freud believed that masochism in males could be a manifestation of inverted sadism. Bloom’s role playing in making Molly (also part Jewish) pretend to be taken by a German emperor was a mildly sadistic act, so perhaps the guilt and emotional trauma of Rudy’s death caused his sadistic impulse to morph into full-blown masochism.
However, it is not until the “Circe” episode that Bloom’s masochism is exploited and hyperbolized, forcing the reader to see Bloom in the worst and most humiliating light possible. His conscience is probed and every tendency or desire that causes him guilt or anxiety is exploded to its ultimate potential, expanded to preposterous, carnivalesque proportions. The text not only imbues all of Bloom’s “guilty pleasures” (his correspondence with Martha, the incident at the beach with Gerty MacDowell, etc.) with an air of abject perversity, it also stretches his masochistic tendencies to the point of revulsion when he is transformed into a female whore and vaginally fisted by Bello (440). Surprisingly, despite the embarrassment one feels for Bloom in witnessing the text’s repugnant exaggerations of his kink, he actually benefits from these tribulations. These amplifications of Bloom’s sexual idiosyncrasies have a cathartic effect. By mentally suffering the hellish humiliations inflicted via grotesque magnification, he is able to see how innocuous his actual fetishes are by comparison. As a result of this effective shame purge, he acquires a healthier self-perception and the reader gains greater insight into both Bloom’s psychosexual makeup and his marital situation.
Though Bloom’s unorthodox sexual proclivities have been ruthlessly exposed, the text fails in its attempt to portray Bloom as aberrant and monstrous. In fact, its cruel and unfair treatment of the man stirs compassion in the reader. One is inclined to accept Bloom not so much in spite of his flaws as because of the fact that he is flawed. Though one might not share the same flaws, it is acknowledged that Bloom’s “sins” are not egregious and as a result the reader empathizes with this character’s humanity. Leopold Bloom is a far cry from an idealized epic hero, but his credibility as a modern hero remains in tact. In some ways, Bloom can be seen as a hero in the sense of Nietzsche’s “natural man,” since he not only continues to be grounded in sensuality, but has now begun to come to terms with his somewhat unorthodox sexual predilections. Rather than conforming to socio-religious expectations, he accepts his nature. Ironically, in some ways, Bloom is actually empowered by the humiliating ordeal imposed upon him in “Circe.” Once the reader is made aware that, like Molly, Bloom has indulged in illicit behavior outside the marriage, he no longer seems pathetic. Consequently, since Bloom is no longer someone to be pitied, he is relieved of the stigma of victimization.
In reading this episode and analyzing the dynamics of the Blooms’ relationship, the reader becomes more sympathetic to Molly’s situation. It is obvious that Bloom loves Molly more than she loves him. However, given the impossibility of achieving perfect emotional equilibrium between two people, one could argue that at any given point in a romantic relationship one person loves the other person more. This is not alarming, and in fact, must be construed as a positive in Bloom’s eyes. Loving Molly more than she loves him feeds his masochistic desire to be submissive to a beautiful woman, and is an important part of his sexual self-expression.
Furthermore, while Molly will commit adultery in the literal, active sense, Bloom has been equally unfaithful in his passive way, and it must be noted that the passive/clandestine aspect of his own kink is an essential element of its appeal. Where Molly is more direct, open and conventional in her sexuality, Bloom is more secretive and conflicted about his less conventional inclinations. Molly initially appears more courageous than Bloom, who does not cheat overtly, but seeks covert sexual satisfaction with random women. However, upon closer examination, Bloom’s restraint in abstaining from physical contact probably has little to do with courage (or a lack thereof): Bloom likes it that way. It seems that, as a result of their inability to satisfactorily express their sexuality within the marriage, both Bloom and Molly are indulging in forms of extramarital gratification of the sex drive. Each spouse “cheats” in a manner that that is natural to his or her personality and expressive of his or her personal psychosexual makeup.
Bloom is technically faithful, but this is not out of deference to Molly's feelings or out of any reverence for the vows of marriage (given Joyce’s feelings about other social and religious constructs, it is doubtful that he sees marriage as a "sacred" institution). Furthermore, in addition to revealing his guilty conscience with regard to his complicity in Molly’s betrayal in the “Circe” episode, Bloom has implied in the “Nausicaa” episode that he is accepting of Molly’s adultery. While contemplating Molly’s affair with Boylan and recalling a happy day spent with Molly on Howth, Bloom’s interior monologue reveals his thoughts: “I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums and I the plum stones…All that old hill has seen. Names change that’s all. Lovers: yum yum” (308). This is, perhaps, another instance of Bloom embodying Nietzsche’s natural man in that he is following his own moral code, not that imposed on him by church or societal inhibitions.
It should be noted that Bloom’s comments on the political situation in Ireland could also be seen as projections of his attitude toward his relationship with Molly. In the “Cyclops” episode, Bloom is annoyed by songs like “Croppy Boy” because they foster Irish sentimentality toward their defeated attempt at establishing home rule. Bloom says “they get off on it.” This is an obvious parallel to his feelings with regard to the “defeat” he is currently suffering in his marriage in that he becomes sexually aroused when imagining Boylan having animalistic sex with Molly (ergo, he “gets off on it”). Wanda’s assertion to Severin in Venus in Furs that Romanized countries deserve to be dominated because of their slave mentality applies equally well to Bloom’s attitudes toward Ireland’s political situation and to his attitudes toward his own sexual life.
Furthermore, if imagined from Molly’s point of view, it is hard to see Bloom’s motivation in refraining from physical contact as being entirely selfless. Speculating with regard to Molly’s feelings, one would have to guess that she would feel worse about (equally betrayed and much, much more embarrassed by) a lecherous husband who masturbates at the beach, buys dirty panties from a woman at the hotel, and tries to molest the maid than she would about a husband who indulged in a run-of-the-mill affair. Given the social and religious inhibitions of 1904 Dublin, the potential for humiliation posed by a public scandal regarding one’s husband’s “perversion” seems more threatening to self-esteem and social standing than does discreet adultery. Therefore, Bloom’s “faithfulness” appears rather self-serving. He simply would not get as much gratification from a straightforward extramarital sexual relationship as he does in doing stealthy, "kinky" things about which he feels guilty. Furthermore, Bloom's guilt itself is part of his kink -- it rather turns him on sexually, and is at the root of his masochism. Without some measure of guilt, his acts would not feel "naughty" and if they did not feel naughty, they would lose their thrill. As for Molly’s function in the marital equation, she seems incredibly narcissistic and selfish. Her identity is defined by her sexual desirability, which she uses to manipulate men. This is undoubtedly learned behavior, and not entirely Molly’s fault. She is the product of a chauvinistic society in which a woman’s value is based solely on her physical beauty and her domestic worth – a society in which women are not seen to be worthy of education. Furthermore, Molly’s personality developed in the absence of maternal guidance. In a situation such as this, where a pretty, vivacious daughter is raised by a doting father without the influence of a loving adult female, it is to be expected that the girl will succumb to her more animal instincts and learn to work her sexuality in order to get her way. In the context of the Blooms’ marriage, however, Molly’s narcissism is not a negative, but a positive because of the power dynamic in their relationship. Her narcissism complements Bloom’s masochism. As a beautiful, spoiled and selfish woman, she appeals to Blooms’ fantasies and provides an opportunity for him to indulge his desire to behave in a pleasingly servile manner.
Bloom and Molly are also compatible with regard to their shared earthiness and sensuality and by their unwillingness to suspend immediate pleasure in hopes of being rewarded for virtuous living in the afterlife. Unlike Gerty MacDowell (who is as narcissistic as Molly, but rather vapid and immature in her sexuality, expecting life to mirror a turn-of-the-century romance novel), Molly is frank and comfortable in her sexuality. Where Gerty is hypocritical and pretentious, feigning purity and reading sentimental novels in which idealized women “give themselves” to “storm tossed men” (284), Molly unashamedly reads cheap, smutty novels and flaunts her worldliness: God help their poor head I knew more about men and life when I was 15 than they’ll all know at 50” (627). Molly definitely has an emotional craving for attention and/or admiration from men, but it is motivated solely by a desire for ego validation. Because her sexual identity is virtually all she has, she really needs to be reassured that her self-image is accurate and that she is, indeed, an irresistible sex goddess. In a way, Molly’s situation is sad. She is functionally illiterate (not that she cares); she has no real intellectual or spiritual interest in which to funnel her energy; she has an unsatisyfing marriage; she is past her prime and will not be able to convince herself that she is the most desirable woman in Dublin for much longer (a huge threat to a beauty queen); her daughter is raised; her son is dead; and she has no female friends. One would think she could perhaps find a creative outlet in music, but she does not seem to get any real artistic gratification from her career. When her singing is mentioned in her monologue in the “Penelope” episode, it is never with regard to any love of music. It is, instead, always with regard to taking advantage of the opportunities her career affords her to have her ego stroked and her vanity bolstered. She thinks of seeing Boylan, of what she has worn or will wear, and of the tactical advantage being on stage offers for making women jealous and tantalizing men: “I’ll change that lace on my black dress to show off my bubs and I’ll yes by God I’ll get that big fan mended” (628). Likewise, although a great deal of Molly’s monologue is devoted to thoughts of men and sex, and although Molly, who defines herself through male attention, is not at all ashamed of or embarrassed by sexuality, she does not seem really to like men very much. She makes a lot of cynical comments about them, such as her comment on page 613: “I’d rather die 20 times over than marry another of their sex” (which is immediately followed by a self-congratulatory remark with regard to her marriage to Leopold: “of course he’d never find another woman like me to put up with him they way I do”). She is equally unimpressed with men’s anatomy: “what a man looks like with his two bags full and his other thing hanging down out of him or sticking up at you like a hatrack no wonder they hide it with a cabbageleaf” (620).
Further, based on the almost contemptuous way Molly describes her sexual encounters, it seems that the rush she gets out of sex is more psychologically gratifying (in that it confirms her power to elicit desire) than it is physically or emotionally fulfilling. Unlike a lot of her contemporaries, she has no problem separating sex from love and is not ashamed to give herself an orgasm in the event her partner fails to do so, but even given her comparative sexual liberty, she doesn’t describe sex in the manner one would expect it to be described by a woman who truly loves sex. For example: “what’s the idea making us like that with a big hole in the middle of us or like a Stallion driving it up into you because that’s all they want out of you with that determined vicious look in his eye” (611). This unfavorable attitude about the sex act is not reserved for sex with Boylan: “anyhow its done now once and for all with all the talk of the world about it people make its only the first time after that its just the ordinary do it and think no more about it” (610). It seems that to Molly, men’s primary value lies in the gratification she gets from feeling superior in knowing that, by inciting their lust, she can exert her will over them.
Indeed, the conclusion of the novel in which Molly grows excited remembering the day on Howth when she accepted Bloom’s proposal of marriage (often read to be a re-affirmation of her decision to marry Bloom and which Bloom himself remembers with great love for Molly) is a bit self-serving. Her excitement at the memory of that day does not seem to be anything that Bloom, were he able to read her thoughts, should find particularly reassuring or take too personally. Her building excitement in recalling the day on Howth is somewhat autoerotic. At a time when her confidence in the security of her marriage has been a bit shaken, she is reliving her youthful glory.
Molly appears to be sort of getting off (but not actually masturbating) on the memory of herself in her prime – at the peak of her sexual powers. In her mind, getting Bloom to propose --especially since she thinks she orchestrated and was in control of the whole situation, deliberately driving him mad with desire -- was the coup de grace of her career in sexual manipulation; the most exhilarating exercise of her female power. The memory of that day would undoubtedly be blissful (or, more appropriately, "yesful") to a fading beauty with a complicated marriage and a questionable future, no matter who the actor playing "fiancée" might happen to be. Molly did not seem truly to love Bloom even back then, when youthful idealism and the promise of an exciting future were on her side. She rather liked him because of what he could do for her, and because she knew she could manipulate him: “yes that is why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldn’t answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky” (643). Why now, in her present state of disillusionment and dysfunction, would Molly be ecstatic that she married Bloom?
Molly is also sometimes seen to be love-starved, but as a narcissistic personality it is doubtful that mature love is what she is looking for. She is definitely starved for romantic adoration (in the form of love letters and poems) and sexual intimacy, but only in the interest of self-gratification. It seems unlikely that she wants to reciprocate beyond playing the role of “muse” or “beloved.” Again, the desire is not for any type of deep emotional exchange or commitment, but for fun and ego gratification. It is doubtful that Molly is capable of real love, given the lack of maternal instincts she has shown toward Milly. She is unable to put even her own daughter’s interest ahead of her own ego. Instead of stepping aside and letting Milly be the young, pretty one, Molly regards her as a sexual competitor: “her tongue is a bit too long for my tastes our blouse is open too low she says to me the pan calling the kettle blackbottom and I had to tell her not to cock her legs up like that on show on the windowsill before all the people passing they all look at her like me when I was her age of course” (631).
At the end of the novel, Molly does, however, seem to regard Bloom as less undesirable than the husbands of most of the other ladies, to whom she has been comparing him. Bloom is not an alcoholic like dead Paddy Dignam, he does not keep her barefoot and pregnant like Mina Purefoy’s husband does Mina, and best of all, he is not a lunatic like Molly’s ultimate rival, Josie Powell’s, husband. Even though she suspects that Bloom has also found a lover, and even though she is aware of some of his kinks and previous sexual indiscretions, Molly chooses to stay with Bloom. His desirable traits outweigh his undesirable ones. The fact that she has a better husband than do her peers flatters her ego and she is pleased by her ability to “get around” him. This gives her the freedom to enjoy the attention of other men, which also gratifies her ego, with no threat of repercussion. Bloom will also stay with Molly. He truly loves her and, thanks to his masochistic impulse, will continue not only to accept her selfish and narcissistic behavior, but also to appreciate it.
Ultimately, although Molly and Bloom have betrayed each other sexually – in Molly’s case actively and in Bloom’s case passively – their personalities complement each other and they have found a way to function within their dysfunction. In a situation in which divorce is not an attractive option, they have managed to stay married. Bloom and Molly have forged their own code and are living as much as possible beyond the confines of church- and state-imposed morality. As long as Bloom can deal with Molly’s cheating (which will undoubtedly continue --even though Bloom is the last man on Molly’s mind in the monologue, she is self-indulgent and has low impulse control -- she will again succumb to her need for male attention), and Molly is accepting of Bloom’s quirks (one can be equally sure that Bloom will continue to satisfy his desires), the Blooms will continue to function dysfunctionally.