S: I passed away a hole day picking and shoveling away at the name “Earwicker,” only to find that the Author had done the work (be) for me, in the ballad of Persse O’Reilly. FW 44-47. Fecking Joyce!
The surname Earwicker is of Anglo-Saxon origins. Recorded in Greater London from medieval times as Earwaker, Earwicker, Earweker, and Erricker, it would appear to be occupational. A warracker was a builder whose specific work involved erecting scaffolding, a warrack being a piece of triangular wood that was driven into the corners of the scaffolding to “lock” the structures.
Thus, is HCE another Tim Finnegan, tumbled down hod carrier.
Joyce: “How he fell with a roll and a rumble.”
M: So when I’m sitting in the park and read of “the witress from Havvah-ban-Annah” (say it out loud…) FW 38.30, I snort and later realize Joyce probably means Havana. It might be an insult (“banana republic”) if I wasn’t convinced that Joyce just couldn’t control himself. Sean rightly points out that a locale named Havvah-ban-Annah could easily be in a Marx Brothers movie. Indeed, Harpo traded puns with the most whorticulterest Mrs Parker at the Vico Cycle of the Algonquin Round Table. (I wonder if Sir Tristram, “violer d’amores,” ever made an appearance.) It’s also a joke that my father — the smartest man who ever claimed somewhat proudly to have never finished a book in his life — would have made.
The surname Earwicker is perhaps derived from the Middle English given name “Erewaker” (old English “Eoforwacer”), which is derived from the elements “eofor” meaning “boar” and “wacer” meaning “watchful.”
When Fionn MacCumhaill was about to marry Gráinne, she eloped with his friend Diarmaid. Finn’s pursuit of the wandering lovers is the subject of Tóraigheacht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne. Years later, Diarmuid was gored by the earless white boar of Ben Bulben, in Sligo. Finn’s arrival on the scene before his rival’s death is the subject of one of Ferguson’s Lays of the Western Gael. “It is well pleased I am to see you that way, Diarmuid,” said Finn; “and it is a pity all the women of Ireland not to be looking at you now, for your great beauty is turned to ugliness, and your comely shape to uncomeliness.” Water drunk from Fionn’s hands had the power of healing, but each time Fionn gathered water, he let it run through his fingers. Thus, HCE, “boar watcher,” is another Finn McCool.
Joyce: “Fingal Mac Oscar…”
We all pun, intentional or un, so why is Joyce so special? Well, he’s the one who in the same book, not only casually makes reference to Havana some pages later, but has a main character named Anna Livia Plurabelle, HCE’s wife, who sleeps beside him. I understand she’ll take center stage later on in Book I, but for now, I’m told that, near as I can translate, we ‘have a good Anna.’ A pun with purpose.
Pronounced “Erricker,” the name confirms HCE’s alleged, and Dublin City’s historical, Scandinavian origin.
Joyce: “Norveegickers mononiker”
Earwigs are dark, reddish-brown insects, easily identified by the pincer-like projections on the tip of the abdomen, called forceps. The most common species, Forficula auricularia, or European earwig, is 5/8 of an inch long. The name “earwig” comes from a superstition that these insects crawl into human ears, burrow into the brains and lay their eggs there. The common term, earwig, is derived from the Old English ēare, “ear”, and wicga, or wigga (later wig) which means “insect.” So Finnegans Wake, written to be read aloud, comes in at the ear and lays any number of eggs in the human brain.
Joyce: “Big earwigs on the green”
Furthermore, to “earwig” means either “to attempt to influence by persistent confidential argument or talk,” or “to eavesdrop.”
The joy is in the connections, the lines we draw as we read on. If there’s one train station, one never really gets anywhere.
sum mer de le wake 