Take a photo of a barcode or cover
1.9k reviews for:
Ulysses: Annotated Edition
Sam Slote, Marc A. Mamigonian, James Joyce, James Joyce
3.64 AVERAGE
1.9k reviews for:
Ulysses: Annotated Edition
Sam Slote, Marc A. Mamigonian, James Joyce, James Joyce
3.64 AVERAGE
Took a couple weeks to stew on this one.
First of all, it's too long. I'm sure Joyce was deliberate with his every word (he was a very particular writer) but lord have mercy, entertainment value ought to be a priority too. A few chapters are unforgivably long and painful; it's a minority of chapters, for sure, but if 5% of this book sucks, then that's like 50 bad pages. Considering the often difficult prose, that's over an hour of my life reading bad pages.
One other thing I didn't like was the racism. And this isn't a Huckleberry Finn situation--the book isn't ABOUT racism. There are just occasional jabs at black people's appearance and character throughout the narration, and considering how antisemitism is a major theme, I found that hypocrisy awfully disappointing.
But I admit. The real worst thing a book can be is boring, and most of this book is very much not boring.
First of all, it's too long. I'm sure Joyce was deliberate with his every word (he was a very particular writer) but lord have mercy, entertainment value ought to be a priority too. A few chapters are unforgivably long and painful; it's a minority of chapters, for sure, but if 5% of this book sucks, then that's like 50 bad pages. Considering the often difficult prose, that's over an hour of my life reading bad pages.
One other thing I didn't like was the racism. And this isn't a Huckleberry Finn situation--the book isn't ABOUT racism. There are just occasional jabs at black people's appearance and character throughout the narration, and considering how antisemitism is a major theme, I found that hypocrisy awfully disappointing.
But I admit. The real worst thing a book can be is boring, and most of this book is very much not boring.
-Begone Procrustes, you daemon of the ages. I won't be fooled by your hospitality!
Ulysses is an endless vomit of random references with a narrative I could not care less about. Reading it to completion and understanding all the idiotic and childlike allusions is the only true, imagined point of the endeavour. And yes! You should be keeping a score, or what's the point?
In the completion you are tasked to become a part of a postmodern plot. What do you get in the return? You get the legitimization of those semi literate and the most useless among us.
Mr. Joyce, I do know the answers to your idiotic riddles, but I do not ask for your approval, for not only do I not perceive you as an authority, I see nothing to respect and acknowledge here.
This truly is a *horrible piece of cultural violence* and only purpose i could see for it is throwing it in the garbage in hope of some catharses.
The only reason this won't do is pure consideration for the tree that had to die for it to be printed and for the tragedy of the translator that actually tried. So this horribleness on my shelf has a new function. It is an immortal testament to the horrors of post modern world and to the futility of doing before understanding.
Some things are better left undone. Don't be a part of the plot and wear it as badge of honor.
Garbage like this is the reason why I can't force myself to read fiction for years now. Reading the rest of the reviews here only enforces that position.
Ulysses is an endless vomit of random references with a narrative I could not care less about. Reading it to completion and understanding all the idiotic and childlike allusions is the only true, imagined point of the endeavour. And yes! You should be keeping a score, or what's the point?
In the completion you are tasked to become a part of a postmodern plot. What do you get in the return? You get the legitimization of those semi literate and the most useless among us.
Mr. Joyce, I do know the answers to your idiotic riddles, but I do not ask for your approval, for not only do I not perceive you as an authority, I see nothing to respect and acknowledge here.
This truly is a *horrible piece of cultural violence* and only purpose i could see for it is throwing it in the garbage in hope of some catharses.
The only reason this won't do is pure consideration for the tree that had to die for it to be printed and for the tragedy of the translator that actually tried. So this horribleness on my shelf has a new function. It is an immortal testament to the horrors of post modern world and to the futility of doing before understanding.
Some things are better left undone. Don't be a part of the plot and wear it as badge of honor.
Garbage like this is the reason why I can't force myself to read fiction for years now. Reading the rest of the reviews here only enforces that position.
Like most monuments, needs to be walked around and viewed from many angles to be appreciated.
Just re-read in preparation for celebrating Bloomsday in Dublin this year: a life-long ambition.
This book is simply wonderful. You could spend a lifetime reading it and get something new every time.
It’s funny, sad, witty, inventive, challenging all at once. A total affirmation of life, humanity and above all, love.
This book is simply wonderful. You could spend a lifetime reading it and get something new every time.
It’s funny, sad, witty, inventive, challenging all at once. A total affirmation of life, humanity and above all, love.
Das Klügste hat Kurt Tucholsky dazu geschrieben, bei Erscheinen der ersten vollständigen deutschen Ausgabe 1927: "Der erste Eindruck ist so: Unmöglich, alles hintereinander zu lesen. Die Personen verwirren sich; wenn eine Handlung darin ist, habe ich sie nicht verstanden – ich weiß nicht immer, was real, gedacht, geträumt oder beabsichtigt ist. Aus einer Inhaltsangabe des Verlages ergibt sich, was an diesem einen Tage, der dem Buch zugrunde liegt, vorgeht – ich habe das nicht gemerkt."
Gleichwohl war Tucholsky von dem dicht "wogenden Nebel", der dieses Buch seiner Meinung nach umgibt, fasziniert, natürlich auch von diesem Bewusstseinsstrom, dem neuartigen stream of consciousness, z.B. von Molly Blooms – der Ehefrau Leopolds – innerem Monolog im abschließenden Penelope-Kapitel. Tucholsky hat seine Rezension beschlossen mit den treffenden Worten: "Liebigs Fleischextrakt. Man kann es nicht essen. Aber es werden noch viele Suppen damit zubereitet werden." Und es stimmt, dieses Buch ist ein Brühwürfel, mit dem bis heute gekocht wird – und es wird immer die geben, die das für ungenießbar halten.
What the heck did I just read? This book didn't make a darn bit of sense. Over 1000 pages of nonsense.
this book just reaffirmed to me that white men can be praised for doing the bare fucking minimum and still be labelled a genius.
technically i only read the first 10% of this, then the chapters Calypso, Penelope and Nausicaa but im counting those as a win for the psychological trauma this has caused me✋
technically i only read the first 10% of this, then the chapters Calypso, Penelope and Nausicaa but im counting those as a win for the psychological trauma this has caused me✋
adventurous
challenging
emotional
funny
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Ein Monument des absurden. Joyce nimmt Camus' Philosophie vorweg und führt uns die große Absurdität des menschlichen Seins in seinem unvergleichlichen Werk vor. Einzigartig, amüsant, hochintellektuel, obszön, entwaffnend ehrlich, überbordend fantastisch, stellenweise mühselig und schlichtweg durchgeknallt. Der Ulysses ist all das und vieles mehr. Ein Gigant, der Für-Sich steht und keine Vergleiche kennt. Aber Achtung: Lies es nur, wenn du es wirklich lesen willst. Nur dann entfaltet sich der ganze Spaß.