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chris_billing 's review for:
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
by James Joyce
While not entirely without merit, this is a book that will be enjoyed by the type of literature buff who enjoys dissecting text to find hidden meaning, and merely endured by everyone else.
The prose is consistently well constructed, but unfortunately (with a few exceptions) it is used solely to describe the dull and mundane life of the book’s main character, Stephen Dedalus.
Dedalus’ mental trials in coming to terms with life, love and faith in early 20th century Ireland might have been a much better read than it was. There is clearly a tale to tell, and interesting subjects to explore.
After a very promising opening, the book descends into a flabby self-indulgent whine detailing how, through interminable soul-searching, Dedalus reaches the conclusion that he is much more sensitive, insightful, and intelligent than the people he shares the world with.
The book is widely accepted to be heavily autobiographical. I’m sure Joyce was a kind and moral man, but he must have been a dull companion.
The prose is consistently well constructed, but unfortunately (with a few exceptions) it is used solely to describe the dull and mundane life of the book’s main character, Stephen Dedalus.
Dedalus’ mental trials in coming to terms with life, love and faith in early 20th century Ireland might have been a much better read than it was. There is clearly a tale to tell, and interesting subjects to explore.
After a very promising opening, the book descends into a flabby self-indulgent whine detailing how, through interminable soul-searching, Dedalus reaches the conclusion that he is much more sensitive, insightful, and intelligent than the people he shares the world with.
The book is widely accepted to be heavily autobiographical. I’m sure Joyce was a kind and moral man, but he must have been a dull companion.