Joyce had a lifelong aversion to hyphens. When words needed to be combined, he made one compound word. Ordinary compound words like "stairhead," "dressinggown," "gunrest," and "handkerchief" may not call much attention to themselves, but the novel soon introduces more startling examples, such as Mulligan's request, "Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.” That coinage generates others in the next few paragraphs: “snotgreen” (cruder still), “oakpale” (lyrical), “snotgreen” (again), and “scrotumtightening” (la pièce de résistance).

A congregation of words.