May I Say Damn, Peking Duck?

I have been pulling my hair over the Oxen Of The Sun episode in Ulysses. Up until this point it has proved a rollicking ride, where allusions slipped past me blind, but I have nearly thirsted for this gushing display of word alchemy. That has stalled as I have consulted some online resources.

My ambitious plan from the weekend is still operational, though the week has yielded insights towards improvement. Honestly, I was only thinking of about eight of those novels for 2011 and improvised to fill the calendar. I am guessing that Mervyn Peake is more likely to be sought than that Bolly-Telenova Sacred Games.