The first impression that one has of Leopold Bloom, Joyce's modern equivalent of Ulysses and also Joyce's Wandering Jew, is that Bloom is as much of an outsider in Dublin as his prototypes were in their peregrinations through various foreign countries. Bloom is shut off from his Roman Catholic, often anti-Semitic associates, first of all, because of religious differences. Stephen's discussion with the anti-Semite Deasy in "Nestor" foreshadows the treatment that Bloom is to receive throughout the day. In "Hades," Bloom is patronized by the three other occupants of the carriage that is headed towards Glasnevin Cemetery, and, in that episode, his conciliatory views of suicide stun the conservative Catholic Dubliners. In "Scylla and Charybdis," Mulligan detects hints of (besides repressed homosexuality) the Jew in Bloom's physiognomy, and he warns Stephen away from him. In "The Cyclops," Bloom, before fighting back, is degraded by the rabidly anti-Semitic Citizen.
There are many other indications of Bloom's alienation — from home and from community — in the novel. He is a "keyless" hero (as is Stephen), having left the key to 7 Eccles St. in his other trousers and having been afraid to retrieve it because he might disturb Molly. His name is mutilated into "L. Boom" in the newspaper report of Dignam's funeral. There is no room for him in the Freeman's offices in "Aeolus," and he is struck at one point, although accidentally, by an opening door. Even his "greasy eyes," which Lydia Douce, a barmaid at the Ormond Hotel, notices as Bloom passes by with Sweets of Sin under his arm, are enough to establish him as a figure of ridicule.
Thus there is a good deal of pathos in Bloom's portrayal. Thinking of his own father's suicide while others condemn the act on the way to Glasnevin Cemetery, Bloom states, "They used to drive a stake of wood through his [the suicide's] heart in the grave. As if it wasn't broken already." Again, Bloom thinks constantly during this day, June 16, of Boylan's and Molly's adultery, yet he still manages to get through his wretched day — and to perform several charitable acts: "Today. Today. Not think." One must feel sympathy for Bloom when he sits in the Ormond Hotel, cut off from the convivial group's enjoyment of Ben Dollard's rendition of "The Croppy Boy," whose lyrics
