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3.64 AVERAGE
3.64 AVERAGE
So... I read about 2/3 of this book. I'm counting it though. I'm absolutely counting it.
Is this book a work of genius (And I truly don't use that word often): Yes.
Did I hate reading this book: Yes.
Every page?: Just about.
Am I aware that none of this is news: Yes.
2.5/5
Is this book a work of genius (And I truly don't use that word often): Yes.
Did I hate reading this book: Yes.
Every page?: Just about.
Am I aware that none of this is news: Yes.
2.5/5
3.5
The weirdest and most complicated book I have ever read or will read.
The weirdest and most complicated book I have ever read or will read.
I did it!
I picked up a copy of this book in London while studying abroad there in 2014 - I'd seen it topping the list of "best novels" and "books you have to read before you die" and figured I'd give it a go. This proved to probably be a mistake, because it led to me purchasing the literal cheapest copy on the shelf, one with zero annotation, explanatory notes, or even an introduction. Just cold, hard, Joyce. In British English, no less. A lot of critics on the internet seem to think that's the best way to experience this book, but unless you know legitimately everything about literature and culture and Ireland circa 1920, I do not recommend it. I ended up following along on Sparknotes to make sure I wasn't missing the boat.
It took me a long time to read this book, with a lot of fits and starts, and I can't in good faith rate it. Maybe I'll come back and slap some stars up here, but for now, I can't possibly narrow the experience of reading this novel down to a number between 1 and 5. I enjoyed a lot of it and I feel..strange now that it's finished. Towards the end, I found that I'd grown fond of these characters and the open-ended way that the story ends left me acutely aware of the fact that I'd only seen them for one day -- their stories started before the first chapter and finish beyond the book's pages. It's unsatisfying but oddly intimate. I just spent 700 pages reading legitimately every single one of their thoughts, dreams, hopes, desires, emotions, and even heck, gross bodily functions. It's hard not to feel connected to them at the end.
But, at the same time, the book is a friggin SLOG. I've never read anything more purposefully pretentious in my entire life. Having written an incredibly stylized book already, was is necessary for Joyce to buck his own established literary conventions three hundred or so pages in and just start doing whatever the hell he wanted? No! Did he do so regardless? Of course, he did! Jeez Louise, did the guy really have to spend an entire chapter mimicking the birth of the English language? He definitely did not have to do that, and yet he did! Would I be much happier with this book if we just carved out everything from when Bloom arrives at the hospital to when he and Stephen arrive at the gate of his house? Yes, absolutely! Listen, I understand that this is a literary marvel, that Joyce pulled off an absolute mastery of prose, but that doesn't mean it's a good read. More than anything, I think I'm annoyed because I would've really enjoyed this if it weren't for much of that horrid middle section. I mean truly, the emotions and realism of the final chapter have left me almost breathless.
There's a moment around 3/4ths of the way through when Bloom is on the beach and he thinks to himself that he better hurry along, because the day is almost done. I had an almost physical reaction to reading that line: the day is almost done, so the book is almost done. I felt almost sorrowful for a second. I'd spent this long in the head of this strange little Irish man, figuring out exactly what makes him tick, and soon, we'd have to part. I think about that now that I've finished -- was I mournful that a journey was almost over, or in shock that after taking so long to navigate this maze, I was almost out? I genuinely don't know. Did I like this book? I genuinely don't know. But I've finished it, finally freaking finished it.
I picked up a copy of this book in London while studying abroad there in 2014 - I'd seen it topping the list of "best novels" and "books you have to read before you die" and figured I'd give it a go. This proved to probably be a mistake, because it led to me purchasing the literal cheapest copy on the shelf, one with zero annotation, explanatory notes, or even an introduction. Just cold, hard, Joyce. In British English, no less. A lot of critics on the internet seem to think that's the best way to experience this book, but unless you know legitimately everything about literature and culture and Ireland circa 1920, I do not recommend it. I ended up following along on Sparknotes to make sure I wasn't missing the boat.
It took me a long time to read this book, with a lot of fits and starts, and I can't in good faith rate it. Maybe I'll come back and slap some stars up here, but for now, I can't possibly narrow the experience of reading this novel down to a number between 1 and 5. I enjoyed a lot of it and I feel..strange now that it's finished. Towards the end, I found that I'd grown fond of these characters and the open-ended way that the story ends left me acutely aware of the fact that I'd only seen them for one day -- their stories started before the first chapter and finish beyond the book's pages. It's unsatisfying but oddly intimate. I just spent 700 pages reading legitimately every single one of their thoughts, dreams, hopes, desires, emotions, and even heck, gross bodily functions. It's hard not to feel connected to them at the end.
But, at the same time, the book is a friggin SLOG. I've never read anything more purposefully pretentious in my entire life. Having written an incredibly stylized book already, was is necessary for Joyce to buck his own established literary conventions three hundred or so pages in and just start doing whatever the hell he wanted? No! Did he do so regardless? Of course, he did! Jeez Louise, did the guy really have to spend an entire chapter mimicking the birth of the English language? He definitely did not have to do that, and yet he did! Would I be much happier with this book if we just carved out everything from when Bloom arrives at the hospital to when he and Stephen arrive at the gate of his house? Yes, absolutely! Listen, I understand that this is a literary marvel, that Joyce pulled off an absolute mastery of prose, but that doesn't mean it's a good read. More than anything, I think I'm annoyed because I would've really enjoyed this if it weren't for much of that horrid middle section. I mean truly, the emotions and realism of the final chapter have left me almost breathless.
There's a moment around 3/4ths of the way through when Bloom is on the beach and he thinks to himself that he better hurry along, because the day is almost done. I had an almost physical reaction to reading that line: the day is almost done, so the book is almost done. I felt almost sorrowful for a second. I'd spent this long in the head of this strange little Irish man, figuring out exactly what makes him tick, and soon, we'd have to part. I think about that now that I've finished -- was I mournful that a journey was almost over, or in shock that after taking so long to navigate this maze, I was almost out? I genuinely don't know. Did I like this book? I genuinely don't know. But I've finished it, finally freaking finished it.
What special affinities appeared to him to exist between the moon and woman?
The tranquil inscrutability of her visage
Her splendour, when visible : her attraction, when invisible
And O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes
I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
You can just feel in your chest the lifeblood resounding and pounding in Joyce’s writing, this book is such a sensuous pleasure and an intellectual feast man I love it!!
The tranquil inscrutability of her visage
Her splendour, when visible : her attraction, when invisible
And O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes
I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
You can just feel in your chest the lifeblood resounding and pounding in Joyce’s writing, this book is such a sensuous pleasure and an intellectual feast man I love it!!
challenging
emotional
funny
inspiring
reflective
tense
fast-paced
Strong character development:
Yes
Clunky!!!
Religious, mythological and literary references are found in every phrase of this exquisitely written work. Prose purist rightly love the novel while an equal number of readers rightly loathe it. The organic chemistry of a literature degree.
Ulysses sits proudly atop the Western Canon, and deserves consideration for such a list, but if judged on pacing and story-telling it would not make the top thousand. Joyce's uses of language is mind boggling but as a novel it's highly experimental.
Portrait of the Artist is a more traditional book that captures the author's brilliance. To many Ulysses will feel like a bizarre pretentious torture and others will sit up, completely soaked and thrilled, begging for repeated waterboarding.
Ulysses sits proudly atop the Western Canon, and deserves consideration for such a list, but if judged on pacing and story-telling it would not make the top thousand. Joyce's uses of language is mind boggling but as a novel it's highly experimental.
Portrait of the Artist is a more traditional book that captures the author's brilliance. To many Ulysses will feel like a bizarre pretentious torture and others will sit up, completely soaked and thrilled, begging for repeated waterboarding.
slow-paced
I barely dare say I've read it really, having been through the book twice now, but I'm not currently reading it anymore. The first time around was in 'Dory-mode' (just keep swimming!). The second time was the audiobook version read by John Lee, which was enormously enjoyable. The next time I will study chapter synopses and analyses in advance, highlight my favourite bits and look up whatever references I don't get, in other words, I'll make a study out of it. Summer project maybe? I expect the fourth time, with John Lee, will be ever more delightful.
The loneliness of the long distance reader: with a rush and a push and the land that we stand on is ours....a life in the day or maybe it just feels like it. An extraordinary roller coaster ride, read on a challenge from the lovely guide at the Little Museum of Dublin, who said everybody gives up at least five times and many never make it past the first hundred pages. But I did and the breadth of imagination and inspiration for others is what leaves the most impression. Did Joyce coin the cis/trans usage? He may not be Shakespeare or the Book of Common Prayer but he runs them a close third. And for up to dateness, the rants about the British have a certain post-Brexit ring of truth: "the fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of god's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs." A marathon, and bewildering, but awing to be in the presence of greatness.
I'm not going to rate Ulysses, because the rating system is about how much you (dis)liked it, and because I hardly knew what was going on, I cannot really say I either liked or disliked it. I did find it quite interesting, to see all the different styles Joyce uses: a bit that was written in the form of a play, a bit that mocked catechism, and of course stream of consciousness. The last seventy pages or so, Molly's soliloquy, I really liked, and it worked well too. My advice to anyone who is daunted by Ulysses right now, is: don't be. Yes, it's difficult to understand what's going on, and yes, it is impossible to see all the (intertextual) references, but I guess that the only one who did understand the aforementioned , was Joyce himself. Unless of course you don't think it's worth your while, then by all means don't read it. It's just a book.
P.S. If you want to read something beautiful by Joyce that is well, more readable, read Dubliners, it's lovely.
P.S. If you want to read something beautiful by Joyce that is well, more readable, read Dubliners, it's lovely.