BLOOM:
(Gently) Give me back that potato, will you?
ZOE:
Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing.
BLOOM:
(With feeling) It is nothing, but still, a relic of poor mamma.
ZOE:
Give a thing and take it back God’ll ask you where is that You’ll
say you don’t know God’ll send you down below.
BLOOM:
There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it.
STEPHEN:
To have or not to have that is the question. ZOE: Here. (She hauls up
a reef of her slip, revealing her bare thigh, and unrolls the potato
from the top of her stocking) Those that hides knows where to find.
(...)
On
the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there.
In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky
wardrobe. No use disturbing her. She turned over sleepily that time
(...)
I
am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. Freeman.
Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?
(...)
(She
hauls up a reef of skirt and ransacks the pouch of her striped blay
petticoat. A phial, an Agnus Dei, a shrivelled potato and a celluloid
doll fall out)
(...)
ZOE:
I feel it. (Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings
out a hard black shrivelled potato. She regards it and Bloom with
dumb moist lips.)
BLOOM:
A talisman. Heirloom.
(...)
Sir?
Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying.
For the hoi polloi. I vear thee beest a gert vool.
Regardless
of how little are we able to contribute to bringing some order into
this chaotic novel, this tiniest contribution will be a remarkable
succes
It´s
true: people used to take a potato, halfway between therapy and
talisman. I don´t really know if this local treatment is effective
or not. I think the potato juice is good for some diseases, but I´m
not sure.
In
the novel itself some doubts about this therapy appear in the last
paragraph: “all poppycock, you’ll scuse me
saying. For the hoi polloi.”
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