It is in relation to Jung that Joyce's most complete hostility is expressed. Jung's essay on Ulysses was considered wounding and rude by Joyce, who asked Daniel Brody why it was so, to be told that one only needed to translate Joyce's name into German. Jung, during his treatment of Lucia Joyce, formed the opinion that Joyce's daughter had become a muse figure for him, and thus confirmed a suspicion which Joyce had formed many years earlier when interpreting a dream of Nora Barnacle: that his daughter was a kind of sacrifice for his own genius. Jung's final view on Joyce, even after a quasi apologetic correspondence, is that his psychological style is definitely schizophrenic, the difference being that an ordinary patient cannot help himself talking and thinking in such a way, whereas Jung avers Joyce wished this to be so.

Joyce's most explicit tilt can be found in the text of Finnegans Wake:

Be who? farther potential? and so wider but we grisly old Sykos who have done our unsmiling bit on alices when they were yung and easily freudened in the penumbra of the procuring room and what oracular compression we have had to apply to them.

At issue is the view of a kind of lascivious patriarchy where the humorless old men orchestrate incest fantasies towards young girls:

...father in such virgated contexts is not always that undemonstrative relative (often held up to our contumacy)...

Both the earlier text of Jung and Freud's Totem and Taboo are questioned by Joyce. The issue of patriarchy is central to the project in Finnegans Wake. The first sounding in Ulysses has been reechoed and dismantled:

Fatherhood, in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to man, it is a mystical state, an apostolic succession, from only begetter to only begotten. On that mystery and not on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the world, macro and microcosm, upon the void. Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood, amor matris, subjective and objective genitive, may be the only true thing in life. Paternity may be a legal fiction.

and even misleading directives which seem to suggest some narrative centre,

...the gist of the pantomime, from cannibal king to the property horse being, slumply and slopely, to remind us how, in this drury world of ours, Father Times and Mother Spacies boil their kettle with their crutch. Which every lad and lass in the lane knows...

or, indeed, that there is some possible archaeology,

...this, for instance, utterly unexpected sinistrogyric return to one peculiar sore point in the past,

or, an invitation to a larval genealogy, where the kind of hidden philosophical mythology in language is exposed, and by a loss of faith in grammar, one, as Nietzsche has it, can be rid of belief in God, that the play of larval modalities of words and phrases in the hesitant self-doubting of writing can overcome the death of God...

...as you sing it its a study. That letter selfpenned to one's other, that neverperfect, everplanned...

or, the imagined exegesis of the future,

The prouts who will invent a writing there ultimately is the poeta, still more learned, who discovered the raiding there originally. That's the point of escathology our book of kills reaches for now in soandso many counterpoint words. What can't be coded can be decorded if an aye sieze what no eye ere grieved for...

Joyce has surely not surrendered anything. His refusal is to create a refuse from the past. The macaronic and the grotesque mediate all of Joyce's positions, and especially the imposture of patriarchy:

...a fadograph of a yestern scene...

One cannot assign to Joyce the neat solution of overcoming the death of God in the symbolic order of language and culture. In Joyce, the Imaginary Order is consigned to a mythos of past and place. The construction or fabrication is not an effort to create some primordial unity to be compared to the insatiable desire-as-lack of the patriarchal symbolic order. The thematics of the fallen patriarchy is dissolved and liquidated in the jouissance of the lapses of language. As Lacan would have it, the verbal slip is the radical facet of the non-meaning which all meaning possesses.

There is no providential order in which Joyce operates a critique, nor does he seek to paper over the void or the existential anguish created by the nihilism of the subjective fiat of creating language. If anything, there is only a piling up of catastrophe. One should not seek to negotiate the hallucinative process of the Wake as appearances which are distantly related either to the compulsion of being a subject as character, or constituting presences.