Ah, so a few pages more answer the question: ’tis the fever of schoolboy lust and all those delicious dirty thoughts that cause a young man’s blood to gush through his system to pool in his penis.
It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her softly parting lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odour. (p. 101)
I suspected it had something to do with this, remembering his watching a young woman after a party. But for me, perhaps in reading it in this time period, it was a bit overdramatic (but what do I know, I’m a girl) in the leading up to this point where he beds a prostitute. Also a bit anticlimactic (forgive the pun) in the culmination of copulation. I was with the writing until "softer than sound or odour," which, while it is an excellent simile, just kind of destroys the mood with the word "odour."
Though I am used to period reading, for some reason, despite Joyce’s elegant language and innovative presentation of narrative structure, I am finding it hard to really care much for Stephen. There was a bit about his embarrassment over his family’s financial losses and social status, and although I understand how the times and in particular (especially after reading Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That) the educational institution would precipitate this feeling, it bothered me some.
Maybe Boethius–who seems to have almost daily relevance lately–is exerting his influence.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology