The Curious Odyssey of Rudolph Bloom

By Richard Reeder

Readers of James Joyce's novel ULYSSES will recognize the central character in this brief but provocative novel as the father of Leopold Bloom, but in their wildest dreams most will never suppose the reality behind his peripatetic history. Born Rudolph Virag into a Jewish family living in the Hapsburg Empire in and around the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815, we know from Joyce's narrative that he lived at various times in Budapest, Vienna, Milan, Florence, London, and Dublin. Yet the reader is never given an explanation of why Rudolph was in those cities and what he did there.

THE CURIOUS ODYSSEY OF RUDOLPH BLOOM creates, for the first time, a backstory for this character. And what a story it is. Here we find Rudolph is a master tailor who manages a family project in Milan to provide buttons for the Hapsburg Empire's occupying army. In Italy, he discovers the world of great opera and art. But more importantly, Rudolph finds the great love of his life in Peppino, a Florentine man who is his project supervisor.

After the quartermaster's project ends, Peppino and Rudolph move to Florence and open a small hotel catering to foreign travelers. They become part of a bohemian community, which never questions their loving relationship. It is a wonderful life until Peppino dies and the hotel is legally removed from Rudolph by the Italian relatives of his late lover.

Rudolph then continues his travels to London, where he engages is various pursuits as befit his background. At age 50, he meets and marries his cousin, Ellen Higgins, resettles in Dublin, and converts to Christianity. Within a year their son Leopold is born.

The story is told in two parts through Bloom's own memoir and reconstruction of the history with the sleuthing of none other than the two literary giants, Oscar Wilde and Bram Stoker.

A cracking good, satisfying tale, coming out on February 2, 2022, the 100th anniversary of the publication of Ulysses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Propertius Press
• Release date: Feb 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005497866

Book preview

The Curious Odyssey of

Rudolph Bloom

A Novella

Richard Reeder

Propertius Press

THE CURIOUS ODYSSEY OF RUDOLPH BLOOM. Copyright (c) 2022 by Richard Reeder.

All rights reserved.

Cover artwork by Venita Oberholster. Map overlay by Mabel Amber. Oscar Wilde photo from Wiki Images. Photo of couple on back cover by James Demers. Author photo courtesy Richard Reeder. Cover and interior design by Propertius Press. All graphics, images, and design copyright Propertius Press.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owners. This book is a work of fiction. As in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience; however, all names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-0054-9786-6

Print ISBN: 978-1-7947-6933-5

Propertius Press

Lynchburg, Virginia

www.propertiuspress.com

email: [e-mail]

THE CURIOUS ODYSSEY OF RUDOLPH BLOOM is available in print and as an ebook wherever books are sold.

This book is dedicated to Steve Diedrich, who lit the spark.

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

Oscar Wilde

Contents

Part I

1 2 3 4

Part II

5 6 7 8 9 10

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

Ennis, Ireland

June 28, 1886

MRS DOYLE

9:15 am

Mr Bloom did not appear for our usual weekday breakfast at nine this morning. For almost three years now, we had been meeting in the hotel dining room, just the two us, planning the day’s work calendar as he relished his usual grilled mutton kidney. Mr Bloom, always the gentleman, would politely pull the chair out from the table and bring it back as I prepared to be seated. He often inquired about how my two daughters and their families were getting along. I never had a more considerate employer in my entire life. He made me feel more like a family member rather than the manager of his hotel.

He was such an interesting man, having lived in so many different places in the world. Grand cities such as Vienna and Florence. I found his unusual accent quite charming, although it was a bit hard to understand all the words he said. Sometimes he would thoroughly confuse me as he would lapse into speaking German.

Mr Bloom was totally devoted to his wife, even more this past year as the cancer ate away at her. Mrs Bloom shared her husband’s passion for books, music, and art. They were undoubtedly the most cultured couple in all of Ennis. I considered myself fortunate to be around them.

They bought the Queen’s Hotel four years ago. The Blooms’ son, Leopold, chose to remain in Dublin to study at Trinity, but surprisingly left after a year to clerk at a stationery shop in City Centre.

Mr Bloom was writing away at a fever pitch since his wife died last February. Whatever it was, this writing had taken up most of his free time these past four months. I observed Mary Riley bringing down his rubbish pail full of crumpled pages many a time. Not that I was nosy, but I did notice that these discarded pages were written mostly in English, with quite a few German words sprinkled in. He had asked me several times to go to the shop to pick up more writing paper and ink for him.

He seemed like a man possessed.

As a rule, on Monday mornings, he would be down in his small office behind the front desk no later than eight working on his accounts and correspondence. I thought perhaps that this excess of writing was taking a toll on him and negatively affecting his sleep patterns. In any case, it was now quarter past nine and I was quite concerned.

I decided to walk up to his rooms on the second floor. As I approached, I could hear Athos, his old and blind dog whimpering inside. I knocked on the door, and in a loud voice called out Mr Bloom, are you all right? I counted to ten and then knocked harder, and in a louder and more agitated voice shouted, Mr Bloom, I’m coming in to check on you.

I had the keys to his rooms, but they were not necessary. When I placed my shaking hand on the knob, I saw that the door was unlocked. Entering the room, I observed that he was slumped over on his favourite burgundy easy chair. His mouth was agape, revealing his badly nicotine-stained teeth. His unknowing eyes were fixed on the Persian rug. Athos was on the floor sitting next to him, lying in a pool of his own pee, gently licking Mr Bloom’s limp right hand that dangled from the chair.

My first instinct was to scream, but I did not want to frighten the hotel guests. I took Mr Bloom’s hand and checked for a pulse. There was none.

I wondered what I needed to do next. Whom should I contact first, the RIC or his physician, Mr Malone? I asked myself if it was death by a natural cause? Or perhaps there was foul play and he had been ruthlessly murdered. Maybe, God forbid, he had taken his own life.

I picked up Athos, cleaned him up, and took him to my room and locked the door. I was flustered and confused, but I knew that I had to immediately go down to the barracks and tell the authorities what I had just discovered.

The streets of Ennis were muddied by last night’s steady rain. I frantically walked the quarter mile to the RIC barracks, splattering my gingham dress and blue kid leather shoes with muck. Michael Costello was at his at his desk, ferociously devouring a biscuit. He greeted me with his natural friendliness.

My oh my, Mrs Doyle, what brings you to visit us so early in the morning?

Michael, Mr Bloom, the proprietor of the hotel is dead. I found him alone in his rooms. The door was unlocked when I entered.

Are you suspecting a burglary and murder, Mrs Doyle? he queried. They say that the old Jew was as rich as Croesus.

This unkind and inappropriate remark angered me no end. Michael Costello, much like his late worthless father Charlie, is a complete ignoramus. Gathering my composure, I gave him my best description of the crime scene.

I told him that the living room did not seemed disturbed at all. Everything in it was in perfect order, with no apparent signs of struggle. He wanted to know if I had told anyone else about Mr Bloom’s death. I assured him that he was the first to know of it. He requested that I accompany him to the Queen’s at once.

CONSTABLE COSTELLO

9:45 am

I have known Maggie Doyle just about my entire life. Her husband Ed ran the finest tobacco shop in Ennis until he collapsed from that heart attack five years ago. My blessed father was one of his best customers. Da told me that Mrs Doyle was the sort of woman that you might call a do-gooder. She was always taking up causes to help those poor souls who were down and out. Widows and orphans and such. A woman with more heart than head, is how Da described her.

I must say that those two lovely and sweet daughters of hers certainly did well for themselves. Katie married that spirits distributor in Galway, and Theresa left the island to become a schoolteacher in Birmingham, marrying some damnable Englishman who made a fortune in the coal trade.

Maggie is still a fine-looking woman considering her age, and she has always been as smart as a whip and nothing ever gets by her. The old Jew certainly chose well when he hired her to manage that hotel of his when he bought it from FitzGerald’s widow a few years back.

I was concerned about her as we walked together, down those muddy streets towards the Queen’s. She was fiercely palpitating, and I worried that she might faint on the way there. She was gabbing away uncontrollably. Half of her mutterings were about Bloom. They did not make much sense to me at all. She was clearly unhinged.

We arrived at the hotel, climbed the stairs, and entered Bloom’s rooms. In my twelve years on the constabulary, I have developed a sixth sense as to whether a crime has been committed when a body has been discovered. As