Reviews with content warning for Racism - Ulysses

"If Ulysses isn't worth reading, life isn't worth living." --James Joyce

While some people might dismiss this as an egotistical defense by the author, I wholeheartedly agree with Joyce. The way this novel encompasses the entirety of the human experiences, from charting bodily fluids and pregnancy to intellectual failings and paternal grief, is astounding. It is cryptic yet illuminating, frank and quirky yet immensely relatable, and all told in a variety of rollicking and satirical styles. I hesitated reviewing this at all (even though I write these for fun) because I'm not sure I could properly describe or "judge" this book. It feels like writing a review on life.

A more specific detail I found touching was the innate humanity of the characters. Leopold Bloom is an earthy, caring, humble individual; all the same we can recoil from or wonder at his underwear fetish or sadomasochistic leanings. We can sympathise with Stephen Dedalus who grieves the death of his mother and his emotionally-absent father; we can also recognise his problems are self-made and he can be a little stuck up sometimes. We can laugh at them and we can laugh with them. And all the while, their fluid personalities move in and out of hallucinations, political discourse, sexual experiences, and flashbacks, illustrating their character even more deeply. To me, writing is about communicating shared human experience, to make someone say (even decades and centuries and millennia from now): "yes, this is it! someone else feels it too. someone, somewhere, sometime, has felt it and captured it for posterity." When I can see bits of myself and my loved ones within a work like Ulysses, it makes it all the more valuable to me.

To maybe specify my point a little, here are my favourite characters, in no particular order:

1) Gertrude (Gerty) MacDowell, chapter 15 "Nausicaa" -- This might be a little controversial, but I have a soft spot for Gerty. People can dismiss her all they want for being prissy, materialistic, vain, or lewd, but I viewed her instead as a poignant commentary on female expression. Her inner monologue is filled with phrases that sound straight out of Edwardian ladies' magazines or newspaper love advice columns, but think about it: is she given any other way to express herself as a lesser-educated woman? Is it a distraction from the disability that haunts her in an unaccepting and conservative society? Is it a commentary on how the world makes women in to a commodity? Is it the tragedy of a woman turned into a product by society, herself, and eventually Bloom the salesman?

Does she end up literally "selling herself short" by exposing herself to the temporary fling that Bloom represents?

The charming little joys she finds in her overpriced stockings and blue ribbon buoy her seemingly hopeless life; her digs at her companions and the baby give her contradictory colour and show us a bit of who the real, unadulterated Gerty is when she is given the power to express herself. Compared with the linguistically-liberated Molly, she is a completely different being. I choose to view her as an open-ended question about female agency and expression within that capsule of Edwardian Dublin on that fateful summer day.

2) Martin Cunningham, various chapters -- Martin is a darn good friend, simple as that. He defends Bloom's dad in "Hades";

he pulls Bloom away from the anti-Semitic altercation in "Cyclops"

. He is kind, non-judgmental, and loyal through and through. I enjoyed every time he popped up with a supportive word and guiding hand. I would have liked to know more about him and his life.

3) Molly Bloom, particularly chapter 17 "Penelope" -- Molly has been derided and praised alike by many, many people over the years. Some are disgusted by her frank, sexual language; others find her punctuation-less outpouring refreshing and shockingly progressive. I, as a woman, loved Molly's chapter almost more than the rest of the book. From complaining about not being dressed properly to answer the mailman to lamenting the arrival of her period, it was almost as if Molly was privy to my own inner monologue. I didn't mind her winding thoughts or frequently explicit imaginings, and I felt bad for her lack of true emotional connection, even if it was a little self-imposed. She is full of inconsistent quirks, constantly going back on her prominent assertions. For instance, she ultimately loves Bloom and the life they have together, but is irritated out of her mind by some of his more unusual quirks and lack of expressed affection. She contemplates leaving him with Boylan, then fiercely defends him against what she believes to be the 'bad lot' he's fallen in with. That, to me, is the hallmark of any close relationship, romantic or otherwise. The chapter's intense realism struck a deep chord with me. While none of this is an excuse to cheat on your spouse, it offers Molly's reasoning that, honestly, makes sense. She is the climactic and fascinating ending to a rollercoaster ride of a novel -- in many ways, she is the other half of Bloom that we have been missing all day.

Honourable mention to Simon Dedalus, Stephen's dad, for using the most interesting blasphemes and curses I have ever read.

If you are considering reading Ulysses, strap in for a long one. Although other life circumstances got in the way, it took me about seven months to finish this book. A lot of patience and dedication is needed. I would recommend some kind of commentary to help you along the way -- I had Ulysses Annotated by Don Gifford for specific references and The Guide to James Joyce's Ulysses by Patrick Hastings for general overview. The latter certainly worked better for me! The author helps you understand what the heck is going on, along with providing bits of advice and snippets of commentary from other learned scholars to guide you in deciphering and digesting a complex masterpiece. Expect to learn a ton from whatever source you choose, from an abridged history of the Irish independence movement and cattle vocabulary to obscure operas and Shakespeare's extended family. Joyce certainly breaks the barriers between different fields of knowledge and study.

Good luck to all of you embarking on the journey! I hope you can find enjoyment even in the slow moments and end-of-chapter slogs. I think it is definitely worth the work.

Content Warnings

serendipitysbooks's review against another edition

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challenging reflective slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

One hundred years ago James Joyce’s Ulysses was published. It has a reputation for being one of the greatest and one of the most difficult literary works. Joyce himself wrote “I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality”. For some reason I still decided to read it. And today, 16 June, better known as Bloomsday, the day the events in Ulysses take place, couldn’t be a more appropriate day to share my thoughts and experiences.

Ulysses was far and away the most challenging and confounding book I’ve ever read. Listening to the wonderful RTE podcast while reading was essential to stop my eyes glazing over and my mind wandering, while I would have understood next to nothing had it not been for the wonderful Ulysses Guide website which offers an essential summary and analysis of each episode. I also read a few other books as preparation (swipe to see) but they weren’t as essential. Joyce’s previous works did little to prepare me for the uniqueness of Ulysses. They are fairly conventional; it is modernist and experimental.

I did enjoy Joyce’s way with words and his word play which felt almost poetic at times. I also loved the way he brought the streets of Dublin to life. Ulysses gave me much to think about, chiefly how little we can tell about a person from what we see on the surface, how much of what they are (their guilt, fears, trauma, repressed memories, sexual fantasies) is kept in their head. Joyce puts us in his characters’ heads. And let’s just say I’m glad I don’t know most people at that level. Some things are best kept private!

My main issue with the book is that it seems written more to show off Joyce’s cleverness than to tell a story. It felt like you were meant to admire the author rather than enjoy the story. And while I’m happy to admire clever plotting, gorgeous writing etc I like it to be in service of the story. Here it felt like the story was in the service of it’s elements aka Joyce’s cleverness.

Additionally, it is clear Joyce has never heard of the “less is more” philosophy.
All the verbiage sometimes got in the way of the meat of the novel. Techniques that at first grabbed my attention for their uniqueness, like the chapter told in question and answer format, become tedious by the time the chapter ended.

Final verdict. Pleased I’ve read it even though I didn’t necessarily enjoy the actual reading. Leopold Bloom is a character who will long stay with me - kind and vulnerable but also incredibly problematic. The concept of everyday life being an epic is certainly worth exploring, and was fairly novel for its time. There is so much in this novel it is impossible to unpack it all in one reading. Only time will tell whether I join the ranks of the rereaders.

My review would be wholly incomplete without a shoutout to the wonderful @mylibrarylends and the rest of the Ulovetolysses crew. I’ve never been in such a supportive buddy reading group (or one with such a strong meme game). Mind you I’ve never read a book where so much support was so necessary!

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