The basic transcription of this notebook was established by members of the ITEM James Joyce Group (Françoise Antiquario, Daniel Ferrer, Ema Guler, Claude Jacquet, Suzanne Kim, Florence Meyeres, Hélène Pauchard, Catherine Rovera, Jamileh Talebizadeh). Françoise Antiquario contributed to all stages of the preparation of this volume.

Source identification

1. Roland McHugh; 2. Françoise Antiquario; 3. Dirk Van Hulle and Daniel Ferrer

General Description

VI.B.47 is a pocket size notebook, with a deep green cover. It is written in green, red and blue inks, except for the last eleven pages that revert to pencil. Its appearance is characteristic of Joyce’s preference, at this period of his life, for coloured inks and colourful stationery.1 The variety of the writing instruments helps one follow the interaction between draft and notebook, as Joyce, or his amanuensis, often went from one to the other without changing pen. The hand is very loose and the letters indistinct: it was evidently written at great speed, for almost immediate use, without consideration of long‑term legibility. At least on one occasion Joyce must have used the notebook when he was unable to see: on the first two pages, a series of entries are inscribed upside down, on top of a set of previously written notes. The fact that the bottom layer is in green ink and the top layer in red ink helps us make at least some sense of what would otherwise be almost completely illegible.2 The deciphering of these pages and of many others in this notebook remains nevertheless extremely tentative.

The end of writing

Fin (end)


Whereas the beginning of Finnegans Wake was written rather late in the course of the composition of the work and was not even foreseen when Joyce embarked upon it, the writing of the end of the book, for all essential purposes, coincided with the end of writing. Anna Livia’s salty demise coincides with the final lines of the volume and with the closure of a cycle of creation that was begun sixteen years earlier. Notebook VI.B.47 corresponds to this last phase and it is pervaded with a strong sense of finality. It is almost exclusively focussed on the last section of Finnegans Wake, Anna Livia’s testamentary monologue, and it marks the end of an extraordinary adventure in literary composition.

After this notebook, Joyce used another one (VI.B.30) for a final set of revisions and corrections, and another (VI.B.48) for the errata. He even continued to take notes after the completion of Finnegans Wake. However, the system of generating text from notes that Joyce had established progressively over the years of ‘Work in Progress’ (and in some respects for much longer than that, judging by the recently discovered early copybooks), was coming to an end in the pages of this document, having accomplished its purpose.

Does this make VI.B.47 a different kind of notebook? So far, relatively few sources have been discovered. This does not mean that more could not be found. It is indeed probable that other sources, in particular newspaper sources, will be discovered in the future. Nevertheless, compared with the vast majority of previous notebooks, this one is less source‑oriented and more draft‑oriented. It is not surprising that, at this very late stage, of the three skills that Joyce had retained from his Jesuit schooling (‘how to gather, how to order and how to present a given material’), the first one was no longer the priority.

In the course of the writing of Finnegans Wake, Joyce had often compiled notes with the composition of a particular section in mind, but after they had served their primary purpose, the notes were systematically quarried for unused items that were recycled in other parts of the book. This is no longer the case here, not because of a deliberate change of technique, but because the method had been rendered mechanically obsolete by the fact that, by the time VI.B.47 was finished, there was nothing left to write. Only five items in the notebook were inserted during the revision of the galleys of II.3 and II.4, or on the last page proofs of Finnegans Wake. All the rest is concentrated in four typescripts of the last section and in the galleys for the whole of the last chapter.

One unusual feature is the significant percentage of uncrossed units that found their way into the drafts. This probably reflects Joyce’s haste to finish his book, as well as the pressure of his last bout of creative energy. The uncrossed items may also be related to the substantial part played by amanuenses (Paul Leon and Harriet Shaw Weaver) in the final revisions. In some cases the crossing out must have been retrospective, which would explain why some items were forgotten. Several facts support such a hypothesis. We can see that the items on page 29 were all struck out together with one single large blue X, while they couldn’t have been used at the same time: they were inserted into the same draft level, but in very different places, integrated in complex writing operations, so that they could not have been entered in quick succession. Moreover, the first items in the list (029a‑f) are repetitions of other units, entered earlier in the notebook, some of them crossed out with the same blue crayon, but others crossed out in a different colour. Some of those elements are even designated with an unusual circle in green crayon (see 022‑3). Towards the middle of the notebook, a number of entries are crossed out, or sometimes simply ticked in the margin, with the same green ink that was used for their inscription. These items are usually also crossed out (probably later) in green crayon. It is difficult to reconstruct precisely the procedures involved, but it is clear that a process of checking and recapitulation was going on that was more complex than the standard procedure of direct transfer from notebook to draft, followed by an immediate cancellation of used items with a colour crayon, or even than the not infrequent compilation of ‘extradraft’ lists that played the part of intermediaries between the notebooks and the drafts.

Writing the end

The draft and typescripts of Anna Livia’s monologue are among the clearest of Finnegans Wake manuscripts. Such a limpidity is a prefiguration of the final text, by far the most accessible and most immediately moving part of the book. It is reflected in the appearance of the documents: a first draft, so neat that it could almost be a fair copy, and a series of typescripts, corrected and augmented in a very orderly fashion (compared with some of Joyce’s other corrected typescripts that look like the web of a deranged spider). This is not to say that the creation of simplicity is necessarily simple. The genesis of the monologue was certainly not flat, linear and uneventful, but the creative turmoil has been taken out of the drafts3 and transferred upstream: probably to a prior mental and verbal phase of composition,4 and also to the pages of VI.B.47.

The normal division of labour between notebook and draft has been altered: some of the drafting of sentences and passages is taking place on the pages of the notebook. However, three different cases must be distinguished.

Primary drafting

In the first category of examples, the passage is drafted almost continuously on the notebook pages and then copied on a page of manuscript additions to the typescript. The most characteristic instance is to be found on pages 39 to 41:


This passage, written at great speed in a very loose hand, with a single revision (‘b’ is written over ‘d’ to change ‘daylight’ into ‘baylight’), is immediately followed on pages 42 and 43 by six additions:


The whole passage is then neatly transferred to a manuscript list of additions to the fourth typescript:


The parts that do not derive from the notebook‑draft have been italicised in the above transcription of the first layer. Apart from these short sentences, the rest is an almost literal reproduction. The only cancellation is not a modification but the currente calamo rectification of a copying error (Joyce had skipped ahead to the second ‘changing’). Among the few adjustments, performed in the act of faircopying, two complementary puns, a noun used as a verb (‘you’re youngling’) and a verb suggesting a noun (‘you’re faced’ your face), are dropped. The compound ‘hillagains’ is normalized to ‘hills again’ while ‘son husband’ and ‘daughter wife’ are amalgamated into ‘sonhusband’ and ‘daughterwife’. The only substantial change is to resolve a hesitation about the nature of the parental figure towards whom Anna Livia is returning. While the notebook‑draft seemed to waver: ‘I go / back to you, / my cold father’s, / mother / and old it’s sad / and old it’s sad / & wary mother […] my cold father […] I rush into your arms’, the copy has made the choice: the final destination is definitely not the Swinburnian (and Mulliganesque) ‘Great Sweet Mother’, but the bitter father. At this late stage, the father/daughter bond seems to have taken precedence over the mother/son relationship.


In other instances, a redrafting takes place in the notebook itself. For example Joyce is working on a Chinese variation of the proverb: ‘If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go to the mountain’. On 032e, he first tries ‘me homage must bow to the Montin if the mon Ming‑Teng won’t do ^+no [mindy]+^ to me homage’, and then immediately tries again on the following page: ‘I’ll kertssey to me hamage must bend to the ^+kow make tow+^ to the Mung Tong’. This is transposed to the manuscript list of additions for the fourth typescript as ‘And I’ll drop my graciest ^+graciast+^ kertssey too. If the Ming Tung no go bo to me homage me hamage kow bow tow to the Mong Tang.’ (47488‑166v, JJA 63:249), which will be carried unchanged to Finnegans Wake 623.11‑13.


The third category is the most common: fragments, long and short, that are added to enrich or modify a previously written passage. This is the case with the famous last lines of the novel. Even if it is in this notebook that we find a form of the last sentence that closely resembles the one that we know (‘alast alost / aloved along the’, 010f), this is not the beginning of its genesis.

A 1926 letter of Joyce to Harriet Shaw Weaver reveals that the open form of the last sentence had been invented twelve years before: ‘The book really has no beginning or end. (Trade secret, registered at Stationers Hall) It ends in the middle of a sentence and begins in the middle of the same sentence’ (SL 314). In the very first extant draft of the passage (5.*0, JJA63:210), we find that the ‘final’ word and the particular rhythm are already present.5

The two short final sentences in this earliest version (‘I only hope the heavens sees us. A bit beside the bush and then a walk along the’) were to be expanded to 87 lines in the printed book (FW 625.36‑628.16), incorporating, in several stages, over sixty entries from this notebook (see table of Finnegans Wake references, at the end of this volume). Here we have space to examine only a small portion of that development.
By the second typescript (5.3),6 the two original sentences have become:


To this typescript is keyed a long list of numbered manuscript additions. It is in the preparation of this list that VI.B.47 comes into play. We reproduce below a slightly simplified transcription of the relevant part of the list, with, on the right, the notebook entries from which it was compiled.


This system of composition allows us to follow the writing process much more closely than in the usual drafts, in which the numerous additions are spatially dispersed throughout the pages and provide little evidence of their relative chronology. Since both the notebook and the list keyed to the typescript have obviously been composed in a linear fashion,7 the order of the fragments on the page directly reflects the two chronologies of inscription. It is remarkable that these sequences do not coincide at all, nor do they correspond to the order of the final text, indicated by internal reference numbers (here in bold superscript). We have to infer that in such cases, Joyce did not compose the fragments with a precise idea of their placement. He wrote them with the passage in mind, then proceeded to insert them, one by one or in combination, in the pre‑existing text.

On the other hand, patterns of usage show that the progress of notebook inscription ran parallel to the progress of the section through its several stages. Joyce seems to have filled a certain number of notebook pages while he was correcting and developing a particular draft stage and with this particular draft in mind. When he proceeded to the next draft stage, he would similarly proceed in the notebook—but of course he was able to turn back the pages and rescue for the new draft some of the material that had been left unused.

This notebook is indispensable for a proper genetic study of the last section: it allows us to trace the development of some of its most important elements or patterns. For instance, the combined evidence of the notebook and the drafts seems to confirm that the end of the book, characterized by the repetition of the letters a‑l, followed by the letters P[ari]s deliberately echoes the end of the Revered Letter, at the close of the previous section.8 At an interval of two pages in the notebook we find ‘Poulebelle / — lla [or lta]’ on 008b and ‘alast alost / aloved along the’ on 010f. The two elements are inserted in the typescript at approximately the same moment as ‘Alma Luvia, Pollabella. Ps!’ to conclude the letter (IV§4.1, JJA 63:203) and ‘A way a lone a lost a last a loved a long the / Paris 1922‑1938’ at the end of the chapter/work (IV§5.3, JJA 63:227). Joyce took the trouble to repeat the words ‘Paris 1922‑1938’ immediately after the final ‘the’ on the page of manuscript additions, although they were already present on the typescript, confirming that they were more than a conventional mode of closure.


It is not impossible that the fragments we have just discussed are based on unknown sources. The fact that they alternate on the notebook pages with a number of items that were never used could be an argument in favour of such a hypothesis. On the other hand, some entries (such as the final sentence) are so obviously written for a particular position in the text that it seems impossible that they could derive from an external source. It seems reasonable to think that Joyce used VI.B.47 alternately for the usual notetaking and for drafting additions to the successive typescripts he was working on, juxtaposing on its pages fragments from external sources and original passages. In the second part of the notebook, the proportion of items derived from sources seems to increase. In some cases we can be even more specific and relate particular units to external source material, whether identified or not.

Howth and environs

On pages 44 and 45, a cluster of units is taken from an unidentified description or history of Howth. After a mention of Bray on 048f, this is continued on 049f with St Fintan’s church (turned into ‘sinfintins’). The source of the large cluster on the same subject on 077‑9 has been identified. It is one of Joyce’s favourite resources: Thom’s Directory. Notes derive from its general history and description of the district as well as from the directory proper, including individual names of inhabitants. All this is clearly meant to prepare, by a commodious vicus of recirculation, the return to the beginning of Finnegans Wake.


The second part of the notebook contains several clusters related to various scientific matters. Some of them are related to the rain cycle, basis of the regeneration of Anna Livia. Pages 60 to 63 derive from some article or brochure on meteorology and include a classification of clouds, mention of sun spots, presumably for their influence on the weather, a definition of ‘fog’ as a ‘cloud in which we are’, as well as the mention of Stiger guns, cannons that were used in Italy to protect vineyards from hailstorms. A large proportion of this material formed the basis of a very substantial addition to the galleys (47488‑203v, JJA63:292, corresponding to FW599.25‑600.03).

We find another definition of ‘fog’, this time as ‘w[ater] round dust’, in the middle of a cluster related to physics (079‑80). Although it alludes to ancient methods of producing electricity (rubbing amber with wool, rubbing glass with silk), it must come from a recent account, for it mentions twice the positron, which had only been discovered in 1932. We find a rare example of a Joycean drawing, roughly representing the structure of the atom, probably a hasty copy of a diagram in the source. Vaguely reminiscent of the ‘Oxen of the Sun’ chart in the British Library, it is composed of two concentric ellipses, presumably representing the nucleus, enclosing the neutron and positron (sic, Joyce’s mistake for proton?), and the orbit of the electrons. The scientific matter is digested into Wakean terms in the very process of notation (‘h highly charged with electrons’ on 079a, ‘adomic structure’ on 079e) and added to the galleys (‘in fact, the same adomic structure as highly charged with electrons as hophazards can effective it’ 47488‑213v, JJA63:310, ultimately FW615.07) without even being crossed out on the notebook page.

The word ‘valency’ from the physics cluster (080b) recurs in the centre of another series devoted to chemistry and metallurgy (084‑086). Several elements of this list are added to the galleys, in Paul Leon’s hand.

Songs and pantomimes

The most conspicuous theme in the second half of the notebook is popular entertainment: pantomimes, music‑hall songs and artists, and occasionally film and theatre. It is unlikely that all this material, dispersed across 45 pages, over a period of approximately six weeks, comes from a single source. It is conceivable that Joyce could have noted the songs as he listened to them on the radio, but the concentration of song titles on certain pages does not make this the most probable hypothesis. We should keep in mind that a good proportion of this material was very familiar to Joyce. Pantomimes play an important part in almost all his works. A passage such as the following from Ulysses:


anticipates several notes here (051f, 067c, 071a, 072e). Many of the famous pantomime titles or songs are transformed as they are noted: Jack and the Beanstalk becomes ‘Jove & the peers talk’ (050a); ‘Turn again Whittington’, ‘turn again wedding turn’ (051d); Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, ‘olobobo & the foxy theagues!’ (051e); Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp ‘our laddy’s / lampern’ (052a); Michael Gunn, the director of the Gaiety is turned into a gun (051f). However, most of this takes place in the first cluster on 050a‑52a and there is very little punning afterwards, except ‘somebody saler’ for Sindbad the Sailor on (071a) and ‘purtomine’ on (072e). Notes on pantomimes alternate with titles of popular songs, some of them very recent, and with names of artists. Since the same artists often performed on the pantomime and the music‑hall stages, this does not necessarily denote different sources. Some of the song titles are amusing (‘Don’t swat your mother ’cause its mean’ on 066b, ‘How does a hen know the size of an egg cup’ on 072d) but many of them are unremarkable. All this suggests a purposeful gathering rather than a chance encounter. Joyce does not seem to have had a particular passage in mind: this material is used, mostly at galley stage, for scattered additions to the last chapter.


On page 33, there is a cluster of elements related to Buddhism. This comes directly after the Chinese rendering of the Mohammed proverb. It is not necessarily derived from a source, but the subject recurs on pages 46 and 47, this time probably in the form of notes from a source (though not A.‑Ferdinand Herold’s La vie du Bouddha that was used in VI.B.46). There does not seem to be any relation with the Hindu elements derived from Zimmer.


In October 1938, Heinrich [R.] Zimmer dedicated a copy of his book Maya: der indische Mythos to “James Joyce in Bewunderung”.9 Joyce must have received the book with interest and sympathy, for the author of Maya was the son of Heinrich Zimmer, the eminent celticist. Only a few months earlier, Heinrich Zimmer (junior) had sent, at Joyce’s request, a typed English summary of his father’s Keltische Beiträge III. The findings of Heinrich Zimmer senior had pleased Joyce immensely because they demonstrated, with all the weight of German science, that Finn MacCool was a hero of Scandinavian origin, confirming Joyce’s intuition in the Wake, in the same way as Victor Bérard had confirmed the Semitic origin of Ulysses.10 In our notebook, it is possible that the words ‘great black shadow’ in the sentence ‘And one time / you’d rush on // me, darkly roaring, / like a great black / shadow with sheeny / stare to perce me / rawly.’ (058b‑059a) derive from Zimmer’s description of Finn MacCool as a ‘great shadow’, although the precise derivation remains a mystery.11

When the work of Zimmer junior arrived, Joyce decided to have the summarizer summarized in his turn and asked Samuel Beckett to mark the book and take notes of useful elements.12 Maya is indeed a long (506 pages) and meandering book. In a style that has been described as wildly romantic and compared to German expressionism, Zimmer paraphrases lengthily the myths from the ‘Purânas’, the traditional lore of India. The author obviously takes pleasure in retelling these intricate stories, the adventures of Vishnu, Shiva and the Goddess, and he comments upon them from a comparativist point of view, showing how the Maya (the projection of the Real as it can be grasped by human eyes) finds a privileged expression in Hindu myths. The Introduction is a brilliant piece about traditional knowledge and its relation to reality and to modern scientific thought, with examples ranging from Chinese insults and the world view of South Sea Islanders to Greek and Hindu mythology. It is not an easy book to browse through, and Joyce let himself be guided by Beckett, in so far as he only took notes from passages annotated by the younger writer.13 The notes are not, however secund order notes: Joyce did go back to the original and included elements not noted by Beckett. Below is a list of the pages annotated by Joyce, with the corresponding notes from Beckett’s list and from VI.B.47.075‑6 (Beckett’s notes are not reproduced when they did not prompt a reaction from Joyce):


Only one of Joyce’s notes (‘Water ‑ N & unc / Eart ‑ D[ay] –’) derives directly from Beckett’s summary of pages 44‑8 of Maya: ‘Water—stream. Water = unconscious, night. Earth = Conscious day’.

None of this material was used in Finnegans Wake, but several items from the Maya index in VI.B.41 made it to the final text.

Tom Sawyer

Joyce’s use of Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn is well‑known: it is another example of notes taken from a copy marked by a friend (letter to David Fleischman of 8 August 1937, SL 287). Was Joyce so pleased by the result that he decided to read the earlier adventures of Tom and Huck? Or did someone perform the same service for him in this case? Six items from Tom Sawyer have been identified on 082g‑083g. They are Americanisms (‘kind of’, 083f) or picturesque phrases (‘Good as wheat’, 083e, ‘good lick’, 083g), generally similar to those recorded in the Huckleberry Finn notes. In the same way as those notes in VI.B.46 had been partly transcribed from a previous list in VI.B.42, it seems possible that the notes here are a transcription of an earlier list, in reverse order. Half of the units from this list were used for additions to the galleys of the last chapter.


On 055b we find a strange note: ‘fin (end)’. Why this translation of a most banal French word? Did Joyce need this last minute reminder of the finality included in the name of his hero and of his book? This is followed, on the next page, by the words ‘great poet’, and by something that we would no longer expect at this stage: ‘author, book / dream’(056bc). The name of Fin[n] seems also to be present in the mysterious upside down inscriptions in red ink on the first page ‘W R Finn / [giant fin]’. This might be related to Joyce’s late research into the background of Finn and the overtones of his name14

More prominent is an experiment on the name of the heroine: on 081c Joyce writes (in blue ink) the full name of ‘anna / livia’, in lower case letters, and then strikes through most of the letters and marks some of them with dots as he transcribes them below for a series of permutations: ‘alvaninvia’, then ‘alaninvia’ changed to ‘allninvia’. In between the lines two letters, ‘ni’, neither a remainder nor a surplus, reveal the father’s daughter (Irish ) in the mother.

Dating and draft usage

There is very little direct evidence of the chronology of inscription, but since Joyce used the notebook consistently for additions to the various drafting stages of the Anna Livia monologue and since these additions were immediately incorporated in the successive typescripts (see above), the chronology of usage provides a good framework for the dating of different sections of the notebook. Apart from the first two, somewhat enigmatic pages, it is probable that the beginning was written in early October 1938 after the manuscript draft and the first typescript had been completed. The last insertion for this typescript is found on 022g. Additions for the second typescript are mixed with these, so we can make no inference from them. Usage in the third typescript goes as far as page 30b, in the fourth typescript as far as 046g, so these sections were probably composed during the middle and the end of October. Insertions for the fifth typescript are found as far as 051f, so this section must have been composed in November. The elements inserted on the galleys (dated by the printer 29 November) go as far as page 8715, which suggests that this section was composed between the end of November and mid‑December (Joyce changed ‘Paris 1922‑1938’ into ‘Paris 1922‑1939’ because he saw that the book would not be published by the end of the year). Beyond that, the few insertions to the galleys or proofs of other parts of the book do not provide much chronological indication. The last pages of the notebook, written in pencil, are more difficult to place. They could have been added at almost any time, but the note on ‘Dingaans Dag’ (093c) can serve as a clue. The centenary of this Boer victory over a Zulu chief was celebrated on 16 December 1938. So it is likely that the end of the notebook approximately coincides with the end of the year and the beginning of the New Year, at the moment when Joyce was writing to his heroine’s namesake, Livia Svevo, ‘Finalmente ho finito di finire il mio libro’ (Letter dated (1 January) 1938‑39, SL 394).

1  On 14 July 1937, Joyce apologizes for writing a letter in red ink, because ‘the work on the proofs of Pts I & III of W i P is now so involved that I have to recur to my old habit of coloured inks and pencil’ (SL 385). Even more remarkable, however, is his choice of very brightly coloured papers for the late drafts. Was this to brighten what was in many respects a dark period of his life? As in the case of the coloured inks, the choice may also have been functional: it allowed him or his amanuenses a convenient mode of reference in the maze of his manuscripts: ‘insert first yellow sheet here’ (JJA 63:258), ‘see cross on blue sheet opposite’ (JJA 63:260).

2  Contrast this with VI.B.32.083A‑B, for example, where both layers are in pencil. In that case a reading was made possible by the use of sources.

3  In this introduction, the word ‘draft’ is taken in a sense that includes Joyce’s heavily corrected typescripts and galleys.

4  In this section even more than elsewhere, Joyce must have played it by ear and gone through a phase of oral/aural composition. He had a clear idea of what he wanted to achieve, with Molly Bloom’s monologue as a kind of implicit benchmark. See Joyce’s remarks to Louis Gillet (Stèle pour James Joyce, 164‑5, cited by Ellmann, JJII, 712).

5  See Laurent Milesi, ‘Fumbling for One Continuous Integument: the Poetics of Composition of Work in Progress.’ In Writing its Own Wrunes for Ever: Essais de génétique joycienne/ Essays in Joycean Genetics (ed. Daniel Ferrer and Claude Jacquet). Tusson: Du Lerot, 1998.

6  Not a carbon of 5.2, as indicated in JJA, but a retyping.

7  There is only one interlinear addition (‘Jumpst in me mouth’) that cannot be situated with precision in the temporal sequence.

8  See Danis Rose, Understanding ‘Finnegans Wake’, 307.

9  Thomas E. Connolly, The Personal Library of James Joyce, 42.

1 0 See Letters I, 401, JJII, 723, and Danis Rose, ‘Finn MacCool and the Final Weeks of Work In Progress’, A Wake Newslitter 69 (October 1980).

1 1 Joyce told Jacques Mercanton that he would not fail to avail himself of that beautiful phrase (Les Heures de James Joyce, 61), but Danis Rose’s expectation that it would be present in the summary (‘Finn MacCool and the Final Weeks of Work In Progress’, op. cit., 70) has not been verified (the typed notes have since been published by Jacques Aubert in ‘Finn MacCool, héros scandinave’, Cahiers de l’Herne: James Joyce, 425‑32).

1 2 These markings and notes are integrally transcribed by Thomas Connolly, op. cit., 42‑47. Dirk Van Hulle remarks that they are the ‘only material proof of Beckett’s contribution to the writing process of Finnegans Wake’ (‘Beckett—Mauthner—Zimmer—Joyce’, Joyce Studies Annual, 10 (1999), 149).

1 3 At least in this notebook. Dirk Van Hulle has transcribed another batch of notes from Maya in VI.B.41 (‘Beckett—Mauthner—Zimmer—Joyce’, op. cit., 180‑183). Van Hulle has determined that the VI.B.41 notes must have been taken a few weeks earlier, although they start with the second chapter of the book. They may not derive from Beckett’s notes: Joyce’s attention must have been attracted by the frontispiece representing ‘Vischnu als Fisch’, a statue of the god with a fish body. The visual portmanteau is translated as ‘fishnoo’ on VI.B.41.288b and the notes proceed from Zimmer’s development of this theme on page 48. The VI.B.47 index, however, is undoubtedly mediated by Beckett’s list.

1 4 See Danis Rose ‘Finn MacCool and the Final Weeks of Work In Progress’, op. cit.

1 5 The uncrossed item on 100f is doubtful.