Nora Joyce,
Fluntern Cemetery, Zurich, Switzerland
June 16th 2009

Dear Nora Joyce (nee Barnacle), I heard your life story today from the lips of a veteran Irish actress, recounting mainly of your times living in various European cities post-war, Trieste-Zurich-Paris, when you raised your two children Georgio and Lucia, and finally back to Zurich where your husband James was laid to rest in January 1941 in the Fluntern Cemetery.

The actress was dressed in black mourning frock coat down to the ground, and pulled back her veil for the photographer down at the Forty-Foot, taking too many shots of the actress beside her too-young companion, another actor in garb against the backdrop of the rocks and sea of your daily recreation and ablutions.

Life with James must have been romantic and idyllic sometimes at least, and I’m sure, filled with many happy memories, despite Lucia’s frequent outbursts, and your constant financial struggles.

I took a swim in the blue-green sea in the brilliant sunshine. I chatted with a regular down there, a Dublin woman full of quick wit, exemplifying the day. A bunch of high-spirited Mt. Anville students were exploring the high rocks, resplendent in their freshly laundered bottle green and white long socks. They proceeded to jump from high into the water in their school uniforms, as a pact on the last day of their junior cert exams, bonded together forever by the jump.

Later, back at the tower, now a listed museum, I bought a ticket off the erudite, well-spoken chap in a dapper candy-striped suit, and explored my way up the narrow, winding staircase, past the sparse living quarters, to the circular rooftop with the breathtaking view of Dublin Bay. In your face, Bono, I thought, looking around at the 360º view. Buck Mulligan had the best digs in Dublin.

Another beautiful actress, Brenda McSweeney, was on stage reciting Paul Durcan’s poem ‘Ulysses’ where he is begging his dad to get the 21 shillings to buy his first copy of ‘Ulysses’.

From the polite audience, a guest was pulled to read an excerpt, a German visitor with his girlfriend, and a lover of literature, who read a piece in German, which piece, I don’t know, I could just make out the name Stephen Daedalus, as a homage.

And I, seizing the opportunity, blessed myself and threw open the book at a random page, and happened upon what was a tennis match, which ends on the ropes as a boxing match! Or so it seemed.

We waited for Barry McGovern, actor and scholar, who described the structure of Joyce’s odyssey of one day. He chose the first chapter from Part III, a languid, drunken rant among men on all things. Great to read and hear, as Joyce is all in the ear.

Dear Nora, I want to pay homage to your family and life, and what it took to get this masterpiece out. I consider the providence that led you two to meet, and how you handled it, a young girl from Galway at the outset of life. I know that Joyce would never have completed his masterpieces without you as muse and helper. In your speech, you emphasised the good times, and gave that idealised view of the Paris which is inhabited by artists.

At the outset of today, I got out early, saying to myself, with any luck, this will be over by lunchtime. It ended with my buying the Bodley Head edition of ‘Ulysses’ stamped by the girl with a picture of the tower, and dated 16th June 2009, Bloomsday.

Yours Sincerely, Nessa Jennings.

Top: Nora Barnacle (Joyce).
Right: One of Nora’s ‘contemporaries’ pictured on Bloomsday. (Photo by Marianne Domville).