Raising the Wind Racing directly at you on this issue’s cover is an early photograph of Oliver St. John Gogarty, one of those many Dubliners who found themselves finally unable to escape the portrait Joyce etched so often with his “cold steel pen.” Like Richard Best who had to insist in the course of a BBC interview that “I am not a character in fiction; I am a living being,” Gogarty spent much of his distinguished career defending his own reality. It was all for naught, however, and even his obituary in the New York Times—while noting his dislike for Joyce’s portrait—nevertheless led with the subhead “Author and Wit Was Prototype of Character in ‘Ulysses.’” In an attempt to fix the line a bit more precisely between fact and fiction, this issue begins with John Noel Turner and Marc A. Mamigonian’s “Solar Patriot: Oliver St. John Gogarty in Ulysses,” a careful set of annotations focused on the numerous allegedly fictional references to the real-life model for the Buck. The annotations and indeed Joyce’s texts themselves insist precisely on a kind of endless negotiation between the historical and the fictional, between the world and the text. What we ultimately find in such an exchange is a critical degree of hospitality: an openness to the reader that Tony Thwaites, Anne L. Cavender, Janine M. Utell, and Sheldon Brivic all argue is essential to Joyce’s work. In the first of these essays, “Catechistics, or, Where Was Moses When the Candle Went Out?: Q, A, and Hospitality in ‘Ithaca,’” Thwaites tacks artfully between A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and the “Ithaca” episode of Ulysses in order to examine the open possibilities of what he calls the “endless hospitality” of Joyce’s texts. Far from a narrow mode for rigid instruction, Joyce’s “catechistics” are instead rooted in a pattern of call and response that generates the ethical as well as the aesthetic dimensions of the major works. Cavender too in “The Ass and the Four: Oppositional Figures for the Reader in Finnegans Wake” insists on such textual hospitality by urging us to cultivate an alternative to the insomniac Joyce suggested might be the ideal reader for his final work. She offers instead the patient yet wily ass, a figure which endures the absurd pontifications of the four while metaphorically embodying the feminine circularity of the text. Finding this creature to indeed be far more hospitable—and humane—she effectively generates a new model for reading Joyce’s most difficult and seemingly resistant text. Utell’s “Unfact and Evidence Givers: Rumor, Population, and History in Finnegans Wake,” also contends that Joyce opens up the text of the Wake, in part, by staging the complex encounter between official history and private gossip. “Stories are alive only in the telling,” she writes, and “when stories are alive, they become history and keep not only the community but the individual alive.” Brivic’s “Joyce, Lyotard, and the Art of Damnation” locates a similar kind of tension not in the genres of historical discourse, but within language itself. Skillfully weaving together the work of Lyotard and Žižek, he contends that in A Portrait, Stephen “pursues the incommensurability of discourses, both in places where the meanings of words divide into opposing linguistic systems—and in the impossible passages between these incommensurable discourses.” In doing so, he seeks what Brivic calls a kind of damnation that paradoxically produces a fundamental experience of liberation. This is, in short, a hospitable sort of hell that preserves the critical openness of Joyce’s works. A text engages with the world not only through its appropriation of an indexical reality nor through the invention of proxies for the reader, but also through the very act of publication itself. We are all now familiar with the careful way in which Joyce staged this encounter for Ulysses, and in “Selling Work in Progress,” Stephen John Dilks extends this vital kind of book history to the initial publication of the Wake’s early installments. Part of the emergent field of periodical studies, this essay carefully recontextualizes transition and its role in disseminating Joyce’s work both within and against the segmented cultural marketplace of the early twentieth century. The final two essays in this issue attend closely to the figure of Molly Bloom, pursuing her cultural origins within Irish history and the larger context of international modernism. In the first of these pieces, “Joyce’s Merrimanic Heroine: Molly vs. Bloom in Midnight Court,” James Heffernan contends that the Midnight Court, a 1780 poem written in Gaelic by Brian Merriman, offers a vital source text for the final episode of Ulysses. A fascinating work about a fairy court in which women indict men for their sexual failures, the poem provides an intertext for Joyce’s work that offers new interpretive possibilities as well. Rather than looking to the past, Robert Hurd instead argues persuasively that Molly herself needs to be far more carefully mapped onto the larger modernist fascination with the primitive. Joyce’s fascination with Vico, he contends, should be located within and beside the primitivist fantasies and aesthetics of Conrad, Picasso, Eliot, Lawrence, and others. The result is an illuminating study that contributes both a new understanding of Molly’s intellectual context and a more nuanced conceptualization of modernist primitivism. These major interventions are followed by a series of wide-ranging notes touching on everything from the harp in “Two Gallants” to the identity of Professor Pokorny. Notably, the brief mediation on “he” by Sienna Parulis-Cook was submitted when she was still in high school, and its publication in our pages (with the strong endorsement of our anonymous readers) may be something of a first for the journal. This is followed a newly refreshed “Entertainments” section which includes our regular comic by Simon Loekle as well as a Wakean rendition of Ulysses and a poem by Gerald Dawe. We also include thirteen book reviews as well as Jesse Matz’s review essay sampling at least some of the many guidebooks, readers, and introductions to modernism that have flooded through our offices of late. News and Notes The on-going debates and negotiations over intellectual property and the precise limits of the fair use exceptions to copyright continue unabated. We once more approach another Bloomsday where event organizers find themselves uncertain about whether or not they can perform marathon readings of Ulysses and where performers, scholars, and editors all still try to determine precisely what use they can make of Joyce’s text. Thanks to the efforts of the fact-finding commission assembled by the board of the International James Joyce Foundation, a new resource for scholars, readers, teachers, and performers is now available: James Joyce: Copyright, Fair Use, and Permissions FAQ <http://english.osu.edu/organizations/ijjf/FAQs1.htm>. This valuable document provides quick yet detailed answers about copyright law, the rights of the Joyce Estate, typical (though by no means standard) fees, and other such valuable information. In addition, this issue of the JJQ also features an essay by our former editor, Robert Spoo, on public performances of Joyce’s works and the particular laws and property issues governing them. Taken together, these documents provide all of us with a much clearer set of guidelines that should help facilitate both research and performance. Unfortunately, copyright no longer seems to be the only legal concern for Joyce scholars, particularly those visiting the United States to lecture, teach, and pursue research. The new era of heightened anxiety about border security and terrorism has introduced increasingly complex and often seemingly arbitrary rules governing international visitors. This includes not only the burdensome paperwork required to obtain visas but the sometimes politically motivated decisions to deny entry to scholars and researchers. As the Chronicle of Higher Education reported in February, the U. S. government withheld a visa from a Bolivian historian specializing in native religious beliefs after he completed a Ph.D. at Georgetown University and was about to begin a tenure-track job at the University of Nebraska. At about this same time, a similar incident touched one of our own when John McCourt arrived to take up a post the University of Pennsylvania. A minor problem was identified with his visa paperwork, and he was subsequently handcuffed, strip-searched, and briefly jailed before being deported to Italy. The problem was subsequently resolved, and he eventually entered the country without incident. Unfortunately, this kind of thing seems to be more common than any of us would like, and, though rare, it nevertheless threatens to dampen the international flow of research and ideas to vital to scholarship of all sorts. The International James Joyce Foundation sent a letter of protest, and I have included a copy of it in this issue of the JJQ as well. Although we have to worry about the movement of scholars, we can all rest a little easier now that even more of Joyce’s manuscripts have come to light and seemingly found secure homes. In March, the National Library of Ireland added to its already impressive collections a new batch of six manuscript sheets, some of which were written by Nora Joyce. These materials were acquired from a private collector for €1.7 million and contain what appears to be a rough description of the characters and events from which Joyce built Finnegans Wake. According to various press reports, these differ substantially from the published text and include figures such as Isolde, Tristan, the Four Old Men, and Saint Kevin. Shortly after this announcement, Fritz Senn revealed that the Zurich James Joyce Foundation has formally received the Hans E. Jahnke Bequest, a collection of letters, notesheets, photographs, and other materials originally held by Giorgio Joyce’s second wife, Asta Osterwalder. The materials are all available for examination and research at the Foundation. Clearly, these are both significant acquisitions, and more detailed reports on both will appear in the next issue of the JJQ. I write this at end of May, and Joyceans everywhere will shortly be departing for this year’s International Joyce Symposium in Budapest. It promises to be an exciting program, and our intrepid reporters will be on the scene to cover every moment. In addition, the Trieste Joyce Summer School will again convene (<http://www.units.it/~nirdange/school>) as will the Zurich Joyce Workshop, focused this year on “Cinematographic Joyce” (<http://www.joycefoundation.ch/>). I encourage all those who have not had a chance to attend one of these events to add it to their summer schedule. Plans are already well underway for next year’s North American James Joyce Conference to be held at the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center at the University of Texas at Austin. The proceedings are being organized by an able host committee chaired by Charles Rossman, and plenary addresses by Tom Stoppard and Vicki Mahaffey have already been announced as has a performance of Stoppard’s Travesties. A formal call for papers will appear in our next issue. In addition to these Joyce-focused events, I also want to remind you that the University of Tulsa will host this year’s meeting of the Modernist Studies Association. Supported by the National Endowment for the Humanities and the JJQ, this conference will draw some five hundred international participants to Tulsa from 19-22 October of this year. Information about the conference can be found online at <http://www.utulsa.edu/jjq/msa8>. Let me close this installment of “Raising the Wind” by calling your attention briefly to an important new feature of the JJQ’s website <http://www.utulsa.edu/jjq>. Thanks to the hard work of our Tulsa staff and particularly the effort of Matt Huculak, you can now subscribe directly to the journal online using a credit card. Though seemingly a minor thing in this age of e-commerce, this convenience should spare the hassle of sending checks and make things considerable easier for our international subscribers. Furthermore, our attractive new mailing labels also conveniently indicate when your current subscription expires, so you need only glance at the mailer in which this issue arrived to find out if it’s time to renew. Sean Latham University of Tulsa