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3.64 AVERAGE
3.64 AVERAGE
I’ve officially finished Ulysses. I did it audio because that was the only way it was ever going to happen. Parts were entrancingly beautiful. Parts were mind-numblingly dull. I’m glad I did it and I’m even more glad I won’t need to do it again.
Well, I’ve returned after tackling Hamlet, A Portrait, and Dubliners, and of course I am still woefully unprepared to unpack an infinitesimal fraction of what this work offers. I have a lot of thoughts, most of them not cogent, the rest sycophantic, and I am in need of a wall to preach to. I’m going to write down some extremely basic opinions of each episode for posterity’s sake.
Telemachus
An immediately enticing opening. Being reintroduced to Stephen’s erudite musings, now in the matured, stream-of-consciousness form, is an excellent way of easing ourselves into the mindset of our deuteragonist. Of course, I wasn’t aware at this point of the existence of our unconquered hero Bloom, nonetheless this sets the stage for his idiosyncrasy. Mulligan derisively teases, blends some chaos into the mortar and pestle. Stephen seems to have lost his way since the peremptory, yet triumphant end to Portrait.
Nestor
If I’m not mistaken, this is the shortest episode, so I don’t have as much to say about it. Fairly quickly upends my preconceived notion of Stephen’s competence, though his shortcomings in this instance are endearing. Contransmagnificbangtantiality is the greatest word, my god. First appearance of anti-Semitic rhetoric from our Nestor; was definitely a bit of a shock which resolves itself in a few episodes.
Proteus
This, to me, holds the strongest prose of the first half of Ulysses. The ebb and flow of Dedalus’ thoughts concentrated in so few pages marks an indelible realisation to the reader they are in for a treat. Love the image of the bloated corpse of the dead dog, lovely. Had to read some passages multiple times from how deeply laden it is with intellectual and phenomenological musings or yearnings, obviously most of it went over my head. The parallels between it and the Sandymount Strand reverie from Portrait are a sweet, if a little sinister, omen of what’s to come.
Calypso
Ever the carnal being, Bloom, this work’s interpretation of Odysseus, opens his first episode with the description of his favourite food, being organs, and ends it with a bowel movement. Some of my favourite moments in this book are the subtle and sensual explorations of the world that Bloom has. He’s such a unique character, in that, we actually do plump the depths of his being, we experience the world alongside him. For all his flaws, and by Jove there are many, I’d hasten to call myself a Bloomite. Everything is so peaceful in these first few chapters, I’m genuinely intrigued as to how I’ll feel on a reread, whether I’ll notice some sign of the monsoon that awaits.
Lotus-eaters
This episode, for me, expresses in great detail how physical Bloom is. The stream-of-consciousness is a joy to read, and as per the expectations of the episode heading, we are inundated with epicurean depictions that entice every sensation. If it wasn’t clear up to this point, Bloom is horny as fuck. Yet, now with the aid of retrospective arrangement, i find this to be a tad subversive. Sure, Bloom grasps every opportunity to prospect or reminisce on sexual acts, but the depiction of this outlet thus far doesn’t examine why. This episode also awakened me to the reality that Bloom is Jewish, which made the disparaging comments observed in Nestor stand as a clear portent to some of the more harrowing events of the day.
Hades
The first run through of this I had trouble delineating the difference between Stephen and his father, making the former seem like an entirely distinct being from how I’d been introduced to him. Seeing Bloom interact, and stoically receive the slights of his peers was startling, though it did elevate my opinion of him. Again, love the prose; as much as I enjoyed the dissenting literary style of the second half of the novel, I do admit that I missed this. Poor Paddy Dignam! The way Bloom scrutinises the rituals and pomp of the Catholic Church was another point in his favour for me.
Aeolus
The first occurrence wherein Joyce subverts the form of the novel through its structure. The headlines are humorous, and actually aid comprehension in a chapter made up in large part by hitherto unknown personages. Hah, if only Joyce was as considerate with the rest of the novel. After growing quite attached to Stephen’s development through Portrait, I was admittedly quite concerned to see him meddling with such scumbags, especially after their insinuating comments to an ever-tenacious Bloom.
Lestrygonians
The tension built throughout this episode beautifully mirrors the increasing hostility Bloom encounters in his travails. Still though he finds a way to passionately satiate the indolent cravings of life. I love the passage retrospecting on the proposal to Molly, it’s just an absolutely stunning display of language. The agitation of the approaching affair, to this point diverted from Bloom’s (and consequently the reader’s) attentions, finally comes to the limelight. The despair and neuroticism on display gauges the reader’s expectations of Bloom’s responsibility as a husband, and an autonomous entity affecting the society he is currently expiring in.
Scylla and Charybdis
This is my favourite episode of the first half. From this point onward the complexity and quality of the episodes transcend, and so too my enjoyment. That isn’t to besmirch what this episode offers, on the contrary it is brilliant. Of course, I can’t say I am cognisant of most of the ideas present, even with a guide I find myself stranded and torn asunder. A bit dramatic, but at least this has ever so subtly intimated that I should possibly read some Shakespeare. To see Dedalus scorned here by his intellectual peers is painful; I see this as the final point of disillusionment in his narrative, which later progresses to apathy and self-destruction. I can’t say much of the literary allusions,as I’m too ignorant to comprehend most of them, but it is easy to see how sharp Joyce is, and it makes for enjoyable reading.
Wandering rocks
I can’t say this was particularly fun to read, but it is technically impressive. 18 vignettes strung together of Dublin life all culminating in a procession from the perspective of a representative of British rule, lauding their dominion over the daily lives of the Irish. I say it wasn’t pleasant for how unexpected it was, which says less to the quality of the episode and more to my inability to anticipate the subversive bite. We do gain a full picture of many characters in such a brief time, whose perspectives intertwine and lapse into the background of another; interpolation and parallax ensues. I find this to be a distillation and spiritual successor to the central conceit of Dubliners, though because of the peremptory glance at each story, we are left more so to languor in the convivial atmosphere of Dublin, colliding organically with someone’s misery, only to be ricocheted to another’s joy or debauchery.
Sirens
The prose in sirens is absolutely gorgeous, particularly during the second half. Finally reunited with Bloom, the time draws nearer to his fate, his gradual acceptance of which suffuses the musicality of the episode with melancholy. This is one of my favourite episodes, and definitely houses my preferred variant of the stream-of-consciousness style (excepting Penelope). I found that reading out loud helps with the comprehension of the rhythm in the sections where that is present. A staggering display of lyrical beauty, seriously a contender for the richest in the whole novel.
Cyclops
After the lovely return to Bloom’s mind in Sirens, my expectations were once again upset by the introduction of The Nameless One. Admittedly, It took me a little while to come around to the change in form, mostly for how caustic and abrasive I found its primary voice and subject. The Citizen, a rough amalgamation of lower-class Irish nationalism, begets tension and conflict as he spouts anti-Semitic rhetoric and contends with the dauntless Bloom. I loved the various sequences of ostentatious parodies intercutting, often subverting, the nameless one’s narrative; enhancing the general occurrences to near gigantic proportions in scale. This distressed me quite a lot, witnessing in explicit detail the vitriol and bile Bloom is subject to is horrifying. It grounds the otherwise inflated stakes, and posits the strength of our hero in relation to the myopic cyclops he contends with.
Nausicaa
This feels like an aberration following the severity of the preceding episodes, it is a moment of repose. I am intrigued by the implications of this one, whether the events that unfold are the reveries of Bloom’s mind or the narration of some omniscient force, the former being the more plausible, though nothing is certain in this work. As Ulysses has progressed, we have learnt of the physical threats plaguing our hero, but are as of yet left unresolved on their trauma and uncertain future, I think this incertitude defines the following two chapters.
Oxen of the Sun
Well, fuck. This is an exhaustive, uncompromising exertion of sheer artistic genius. 32 seperate literary styles are employed in transversing the history of the English language from catechism to slang, all mapped against the schema of a 40 week pregnancy in 40 paragraphs, whilst sublimating our interest toward the mythical meeting of Bloom and Dedalus. Thanks be to Jove that I’m privileged to live in an age where guides are so easily accessible. Despite its near impenetrability (to me) from the outset, reading this was one of the highlights of an already staggering artistic accomplishment. There are even opportunities within this to endow our hero with more charm and humanity. The gothic section was so funny to me; being thrown rapidly between such disparate styles only to be met with this phantasmagorical cliche of Haines appearing from behind a false wall and pontificating on the most inane drivel, anyway it’s a hilarious moment of whiplash. Easily some of the most difficult yet rewarding reading I’ve done in my asinine life.
Circe
Concluding the second part of Ulysses is this behemoth of an episode. In play form, we encounter numerous imagined scenes exposing the concealed desires and traumas of our protagonists. There is so much revelatory material packed into this, it’s difficult to unwind. To process the maelstrom of their days so far, the hitherto inexpressible realm of pure sub-conscious imaginings is given form. We, as an audience, have to deliberate on the verisimilitude of the abstractions and decipher their import to the future of our beloved Bloom and Dedalus. This is the climax of the novel, which in and of itself continuously denies clear rationalisation. For me, this episode paired with the previous are the finest hours of a sterling display of trenchant subjectivity.
Eumaeus
I have to less to say about the last three episodes, primarily from the fact I only read them today when they desperately deserve more time to cogitate. I would say this is the episode I took the least from. after doing some preliminary reading it seems that that is purposeful; this is supposed to be from the prose of Bloom, idiosyncrasies and all. It doesn’t detract from my experience of the novel, but it does settle me after how frenzied and scintillating the day’s journey has been. That isn’t to say it is fulfilling, there is something almost masterful of the way this disappoints; presenting the awaited conference of Dedalus and Bloom as stultifying and awkward. Conniving Joyce.
Ithaca
At last, respite. What a beautifully tedious way of resolving so much anticipation. The scene outside wherein the duo compare constellations and piss is just the crude yet masterfully drawn emotional climax I‘ve come to expect from Joyce. The most interesting aspect of structure, for me, are the questions left unasked; the clearly demarcated line that the observer never resolves. Even through the artifice of an omniscient question and response, we are left alienated from the minds of our protagonists, now so close to their journey’s end. The crack of the furniture at Bloom’s decision to brave the responsibilities of his married life mirroring Zeus’ thunderous rally as Odysseus shoots the bow is the fucking greatest.
Penelope
Molly’s perspective, depending on how you view the rest of the work, decides everything. As said, I need more time to consider the interpretations of this ending. Either way, this was a powerful and moving conclusion to a novel I doubt I’ll ever understand in the same way as anyone else.
The beauty in this work is how open it is to your dissection. It is unfathomably complex in its structure (at least to my uneducated brain), innumerable in its allusions, unparalleled in its expression, limitless in its possibilities. It is not hyperbole to say this has consistently floored me and usurped the notions I had of language entirely. Ulysses is on par with The Brothers Karamazov as my favourite piece of literature and a contender for the greatest piece of media I have thus far consumed.
James, you are my hero.
Telemachus
An immediately enticing opening. Being reintroduced to Stephen’s erudite musings, now in the matured, stream-of-consciousness form, is an excellent way of easing ourselves into the mindset of our deuteragonist. Of course, I wasn’t aware at this point of the existence of our unconquered hero Bloom, nonetheless this sets the stage for his idiosyncrasy. Mulligan derisively teases, blends some chaos into the mortar and pestle. Stephen seems to have lost his way since the peremptory, yet triumphant end to Portrait.
Nestor
If I’m not mistaken, this is the shortest episode, so I don’t have as much to say about it. Fairly quickly upends my preconceived notion of Stephen’s competence, though his shortcomings in this instance are endearing. Contransmagnificbangtantiality is the greatest word, my god. First appearance of anti-Semitic rhetoric from our Nestor; was definitely a bit of a shock which resolves itself in a few episodes.
Proteus
This, to me, holds the strongest prose of the first half of Ulysses. The ebb and flow of Dedalus’ thoughts concentrated in so few pages marks an indelible realisation to the reader they are in for a treat. Love the image of the bloated corpse of the dead dog, lovely. Had to read some passages multiple times from how deeply laden it is with intellectual and phenomenological musings or yearnings, obviously most of it went over my head. The parallels between it and the Sandymount Strand reverie from Portrait are a sweet, if a little sinister, omen of what’s to come.
Calypso
Ever the carnal being, Bloom, this work’s interpretation of Odysseus, opens his first episode with the description of his favourite food, being organs, and ends it with a bowel movement. Some of my favourite moments in this book are the subtle and sensual explorations of the world that Bloom has. He’s such a unique character, in that, we actually do plump the depths of his being, we experience the world alongside him. For all his flaws, and by Jove there are many, I’d hasten to call myself a Bloomite. Everything is so peaceful in these first few chapters, I’m genuinely intrigued as to how I’ll feel on a reread, whether I’ll notice some sign of the monsoon that awaits.
Lotus-eaters
This episode, for me, expresses in great detail how physical Bloom is. The stream-of-consciousness is a joy to read, and as per the expectations of the episode heading, we are inundated with epicurean depictions that entice every sensation. If it wasn’t clear up to this point, Bloom is horny as fuck. Yet, now with the aid of retrospective arrangement, i find this to be a tad subversive. Sure, Bloom grasps every opportunity to prospect or reminisce on sexual acts, but the depiction of this outlet thus far doesn’t examine why. This episode also awakened me to the reality that Bloom is Jewish, which made the disparaging comments observed in Nestor stand as a clear portent to some of the more harrowing events of the day.
Hades
The first run through of this I had trouble delineating the difference between Stephen and his father, making the former seem like an entirely distinct being from how I’d been introduced to him. Seeing Bloom interact, and stoically receive the slights of his peers was startling, though it did elevate my opinion of him. Again, love the prose; as much as I enjoyed the dissenting literary style of the second half of the novel, I do admit that I missed this. Poor Paddy Dignam! The way Bloom scrutinises the rituals and pomp of the Catholic Church was another point in his favour for me.
Aeolus
The first occurrence wherein Joyce subverts the form of the novel through its structure. The headlines are humorous, and actually aid comprehension in a chapter made up in large part by hitherto unknown personages. Hah, if only Joyce was as considerate with the rest of the novel. After growing quite attached to Stephen’s development through Portrait, I was admittedly quite concerned to see him meddling with such scumbags, especially after their insinuating comments to an ever-tenacious Bloom.
Lestrygonians
The tension built throughout this episode beautifully mirrors the increasing hostility Bloom encounters in his travails. Still though he finds a way to passionately satiate the indolent cravings of life. I love the passage retrospecting on the proposal to Molly, it’s just an absolutely stunning display of language. The agitation of the approaching affair, to this point diverted from Bloom’s (and consequently the reader’s) attentions, finally comes to the limelight. The despair and neuroticism on display gauges the reader’s expectations of Bloom’s responsibility as a husband, and an autonomous entity affecting the society he is currently expiring in.
Scylla and Charybdis
This is my favourite episode of the first half. From this point onward the complexity and quality of the episodes transcend, and so too my enjoyment. That isn’t to besmirch what this episode offers, on the contrary it is brilliant. Of course, I can’t say I am cognisant of most of the ideas present, even with a guide I find myself stranded and torn asunder. A bit dramatic, but at least this has ever so subtly intimated that I should possibly read some Shakespeare. To see Dedalus scorned here by his intellectual peers is painful; I see this as the final point of disillusionment in his narrative, which later progresses to apathy and self-destruction. I can’t say much of the literary allusions,as I’m too ignorant to comprehend most of them, but it is easy to see how sharp Joyce is, and it makes for enjoyable reading.
Wandering rocks
I can’t say this was particularly fun to read, but it is technically impressive. 18 vignettes strung together of Dublin life all culminating in a procession from the perspective of a representative of British rule, lauding their dominion over the daily lives of the Irish. I say it wasn’t pleasant for how unexpected it was, which says less to the quality of the episode and more to my inability to anticipate the subversive bite. We do gain a full picture of many characters in such a brief time, whose perspectives intertwine and lapse into the background of another; interpolation and parallax ensues. I find this to be a distillation and spiritual successor to the central conceit of Dubliners, though because of the peremptory glance at each story, we are left more so to languor in the convivial atmosphere of Dublin, colliding organically with someone’s misery, only to be ricocheted to another’s joy or debauchery.
Sirens
The prose in sirens is absolutely gorgeous, particularly during the second half. Finally reunited with Bloom, the time draws nearer to his fate, his gradual acceptance of which suffuses the musicality of the episode with melancholy. This is one of my favourite episodes, and definitely houses my preferred variant of the stream-of-consciousness style (excepting Penelope). I found that reading out loud helps with the comprehension of the rhythm in the sections where that is present. A staggering display of lyrical beauty, seriously a contender for the richest in the whole novel.
Cyclops
After the lovely return to Bloom’s mind in Sirens, my expectations were once again upset by the introduction of The Nameless One. Admittedly, It took me a little while to come around to the change in form, mostly for how caustic and abrasive I found its primary voice and subject. The Citizen, a rough amalgamation of lower-class Irish nationalism, begets tension and conflict as he spouts anti-Semitic rhetoric and contends with the dauntless Bloom. I loved the various sequences of ostentatious parodies intercutting, often subverting, the nameless one’s narrative; enhancing the general occurrences to near gigantic proportions in scale. This distressed me quite a lot, witnessing in explicit detail the vitriol and bile Bloom is subject to is horrifying. It grounds the otherwise inflated stakes, and posits the strength of our hero in relation to the myopic cyclops he contends with.
Nausicaa
This feels like an aberration following the severity of the preceding episodes, it is a moment of repose. I am intrigued by the implications of this one, whether the events that unfold are the reveries of Bloom’s mind or the narration of some omniscient force, the former being the more plausible, though nothing is certain in this work. As Ulysses has progressed, we have learnt of the physical threats plaguing our hero, but are as of yet left unresolved on their trauma and uncertain future, I think this incertitude defines the following two chapters.
Oxen of the Sun
Well, fuck. This is an exhaustive, uncompromising exertion of sheer artistic genius. 32 seperate literary styles are employed in transversing the history of the English language from catechism to slang, all mapped against the schema of a 40 week pregnancy in 40 paragraphs, whilst sublimating our interest toward the mythical meeting of Bloom and Dedalus. Thanks be to Jove that I’m privileged to live in an age where guides are so easily accessible. Despite its near impenetrability (to me) from the outset, reading this was one of the highlights of an already staggering artistic accomplishment. There are even opportunities within this to endow our hero with more charm and humanity. The gothic section was so funny to me; being thrown rapidly between such disparate styles only to be met with this phantasmagorical cliche of Haines appearing from behind a false wall and pontificating on the most inane drivel, anyway it’s a hilarious moment of whiplash. Easily some of the most difficult yet rewarding reading I’ve done in my asinine life.
Circe
Concluding the second part of Ulysses is this behemoth of an episode. In play form, we encounter numerous imagined scenes exposing the concealed desires and traumas of our protagonists. There is so much revelatory material packed into this, it’s difficult to unwind. To process the maelstrom of their days so far, the hitherto inexpressible realm of pure sub-conscious imaginings is given form. We, as an audience, have to deliberate on the verisimilitude of the abstractions and decipher their import to the future of our beloved Bloom and Dedalus. This is the climax of the novel, which in and of itself continuously denies clear rationalisation. For me, this episode paired with the previous are the finest hours of a sterling display of trenchant subjectivity.
Eumaeus
I have to less to say about the last three episodes, primarily from the fact I only read them today when they desperately deserve more time to cogitate. I would say this is the episode I took the least from. after doing some preliminary reading it seems that that is purposeful; this is supposed to be from the prose of Bloom, idiosyncrasies and all. It doesn’t detract from my experience of the novel, but it does settle me after how frenzied and scintillating the day’s journey has been. That isn’t to say it is fulfilling, there is something almost masterful of the way this disappoints; presenting the awaited conference of Dedalus and Bloom as stultifying and awkward. Conniving Joyce.
Ithaca
At last, respite. What a beautifully tedious way of resolving so much anticipation. The scene outside wherein the duo compare constellations and piss is just the crude yet masterfully drawn emotional climax I‘ve come to expect from Joyce. The most interesting aspect of structure, for me, are the questions left unasked; the clearly demarcated line that the observer never resolves. Even through the artifice of an omniscient question and response, we are left alienated from the minds of our protagonists, now so close to their journey’s end. The crack of the furniture at Bloom’s decision to brave the responsibilities of his married life mirroring Zeus’ thunderous rally as Odysseus shoots the bow is the fucking greatest.
Penelope
Molly’s perspective, depending on how you view the rest of the work, decides everything. As said, I need more time to consider the interpretations of this ending. Either way, this was a powerful and moving conclusion to a novel I doubt I’ll ever understand in the same way as anyone else.
The beauty in this work is how open it is to your dissection. It is unfathomably complex in its structure (at least to my uneducated brain), innumerable in its allusions, unparalleled in its expression, limitless in its possibilities. It is not hyperbole to say this has consistently floored me and usurped the notions I had of language entirely. Ulysses is on par with The Brothers Karamazov as my favourite piece of literature and a contender for the greatest piece of media I have thus far consumed.
James, you are my hero.
challenging
funny
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
Jesus Christ, does the man never shut the fuck up?
The most challenging yet the greatest book I've had the pleasure of reading.
5☆
5☆
challenging
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Whattt just happened i need to re-read this immediately
In many ways putting my thoughts to a work of this scope is difficult. If understanding Ulysses could be quantifiable to a percentage, I imagine I understood less than 30% of the allusions and references etc etc that Joyce put in the book. There was a lot that I didn't 'enjoy' reading, but I felt I could at least partially appreciate, even without fully understanding. But reading Ulysses isn't impossible and I don't feel like I've scaled a mountain of intellectual achievement or shown myself to be more erudite than the average person.
I liked a lot of the dirty jokes and weirdness of Circe, and the doomed-romance-style prose of Nausicaa, and the way Irish people (like myself) behave at funerals in Hades, and so on and so on. I intend to reread this book many times, presumably in an increasingly scholarly context, but it can be read, and I feel, appreciated, purely as a book, like any other, that has the capacity to entertain and evoke real emotion.
edit: Read no. 2:
What can I say? Even better than the first. My reintroduction into the text, this time in an academic context, was tremendously engaging and intimidating. Literary criticism, theory and all the makeup of academia are things I find fascinating and would love to devote a career into, yet for as much as I enjoyed rereading Ulysses under the guise of further understanding, part of me is very much afraid I'm simply too stupid to add anything to its discussion. No doubt I'll reread this next year - it feels as a text as much of a mirror into oneself as it is a microcosm of Dublin and Everything in It.
I liked a lot of the dirty jokes and weirdness of Circe, and the doomed-romance-style prose of Nausicaa, and the way Irish people (like myself) behave at funerals in Hades, and so on and so on. I intend to reread this book many times, presumably in an increasingly scholarly context, but it can be read, and I feel, appreciated, purely as a book, like any other, that has the capacity to entertain and evoke real emotion.
edit: Read no. 2:
What can I say? Even better than the first. My reintroduction into the text, this time in an academic context, was tremendously engaging and intimidating. Literary criticism, theory and all the makeup of academia are things I find fascinating and would love to devote a career into, yet for as much as I enjoyed rereading Ulysses under the guise of further understanding, part of me is very much afraid I'm simply too stupid to add anything to its discussion. No doubt I'll reread this next year - it feels as a text as much of a mirror into oneself as it is a microcosm of Dublin and Everything in It.
challenging
funny
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
A weird one for sure. Interesting, disturbing.