In the last section, I introduced interior monologue using the highlight tool available to the .pdf format of several .pdf readers. Eventually I will be showing how the the highlight tool and the rollover tool are combined. There’s plenty more chapter 1 to look at, but I want to jump ahead to chapters 3 & 6, where we can find their brains reflecting at full speed while their senses glance about as if in slow motion.
At left are the first two pages of chapter 3, Proteus, where Stephen does little else than wander about on Sandymount and observe what’s around him, and think. But there is some narrative–about a paragraph’s worth–and, if one could “gray out” the internal monologue, then it could be seen and its relationship to the “outside stuff” would seem clearer. In fact, I believe that the reader might read the narrative, then come back and “graze” about the internal monologue. In that fashion, the reader will not stress out over each and every allusion.
It is interesting to note that, by my count, there are only 56 words of external narrative out of 874 above: ”
Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. . . . They came down the steps from Leahy’s terrace prudently. Frauenzimmer, and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand.. . . Airs raomped round him, nipping and eager airs. . . . His pace slackened.
If you are wondering, or else know, what “frauenzimmer”, then we need you . . . to provide citations for this chapter.
Let’s now introduce Mr Leopold Bloom and the narrative that surrounds him in Ch. 6, Hades. Ch. 6 is somewhat comparable to Stephen’s Ch. 3, Proteus, in technique and time of day, adjusted for each characters thoughts.
If I count only the external narrative–and not narrative–, I have about 75 words. This happens to average less than Stephen. I will add narrative and dialogue for all three pages, and 158 words out of 1,182, just because, as elsewhere in this chapter, the passage is both funny and poignant! Nature is conspiring against the gravity of Dignam’s funeral. And against these images, Leopold then points out a ding in his competitor’s hat. I should write out the narrative of a few of these chapters.
A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. . . . Rtststr! A rattle of pebbles. . . . He looked down intently into a stone crypt. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the crypt, moving the pebbles. . . . Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking graveley.
―Excuse me, sir, Mr Bloom said beside them.
―Your hat is a little crushed, Mr Bloom said pointing.
John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving.
―There, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also. John Henry Menton took off his hat, bulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care on his coatsleeve. He clapped the hat on his head again.
―It’s all right now, Martin Cunningham said.
John Henry Menton jerked his head down in acknowledgment.
―Thank you, he said shortly.
They walked on towards the gates. Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few paces so as not to overhear.
Next, let’s consider what “highlighting” the narrative by graying out the text might mean for the reader.