ULYSSES by James Joyce

That's right, folks. I have defeated James Joyce's magnum opus (we're totally ignoring the existence of Finnegan's Wake here), Ulysses. And while my brain was necessarily numb for ABOUT a week afterwards, I think I've regained the power of type enough here to tell you what I'm thinking.

General Impression
Ok, did you guys see the Oscars a million years ago, when Beyonce and Jennifer Hudson and...that other girl who was in that movie...did a musical medley? And Jennifer Hudson was all I COULD BE SINGING AND ALSO DOING A PUZZLE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM A VOCAL GOD and Beyonce was all I AM SHRIEKING AND OUT OF BREATH TRYING TO KEEP UP WITH YOUR BAD-ASSITUDE AND IT IS PAINFULLY OBVIOUS THAT I AM NOT A SINGER IF YOU ARE WHAT A SINGER ACTUALLY IS? Let me remind you: (ignore the weird numbers/letters in the video, don't know what those are about)-

See what I mean? See how effortlessly Jennifer Hudson is a total genius and how effortFUL Beyonce is, while still failing to be even slightly as kick-ass as J. Hud? THAT IS ULYSSES, if Ulysses is Hudson and ALL THE REST OF LITERATURE is Beyonce. Like, yes, Beyonce's voice is nice, and yes, there are some very good books out there, but THEY ARE NOT ULYSSES/JENNIFER HUDSON and are therefore inherently inferior. 

Basically, Ulysses is a work of complete and total, oftentimes indecipherable genius that makes even OTHER COMMONLY RECOGNIZABLE GENIUSES seem just sort of meh? That is not to say it's an easy or even pleasant reading experience, because it is very much not. It is hard and confusing and truly, really, very frustrating. But WORTH it, if only to be able to stand in awe at all that is Joyce's word vomit.

It's Gross

It's so funny (when you understand what's happening, which isn't all the time) and also VERY obscene. Like, would you like to read several hundred pages about masturbation and also pee? Because here you go. The obscenity waffles between being harmless and punny to being totally disgusting and really disturbing (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, CIRCE EPISODE).

Meaning and Intent

So there is one camp of Joycean reader who eschews all reference material and who HONESTLY BELIEVES that Joyce wrote Ulysses for the common reader. So, he either suspected that the "common reader" spoke Italian and Latin, was totally familiar with the details of every part of Dublin, was well-versed in all of Shakespeare, the classics, and various works of theological and philosophical importance, was unconcerned with narrative and plot, and was totally cool with every single character being an asshole OR OR OR that's totally untrue. Because if Joyce seriously wrote this for the "common reader," he was delusional.

But I'd accept that? I would accept that he was totally delusional about the accessibility of his own work. Ulysses will take your expectations about plot line and format and structure and pacing and spit on them and then sit on their heads and tell them fart jokes and then quote Hamlet. Most readers are not fans of this, at least not ones that I know.

What about meaning? I struggled a lot with the reference material I had- while they did help me figure out where I was in Homer's Odyssey, I felt so bogged down in all the random references Joyce crams in there that I felt like I was missing something. So I eventually only used the references to find out the Homeric episode I was in, and then I just...read. I found that to be more "enjoyable," if such a word can be applied to this book.

But the thing is, without the references, you miss most of the meaning. Joyce's references and erudition are buried in sentence fragments and several-page-long-paragraphs. He gives no context. So here is my ultimate question: can a book that is so wrapped up in its own smarty-pants-ness that it mostly fails to communicate successfully to the reader be considered a success? 


I don't know. I don't have an answer. Ulysses is modernist masterpiece, but I'm not always convinced that modernism is all it's cracked up to be by academics. It's a work of genius, to be sure, and some parts are beautiful and heartbreaking and breathtaking, when you can understand them. You can read Ulysses with reference books cracked open so you can elucidate Joyce's UNDENIABLE genius, or you can just dive in, let it sort of wash over you, and understand what you can. Either way, you'll end up in awe of Joyce's "talent" (again, he has so much of it that it almost seems belittling to even use the term to describe him), even if you REALLY DO NOT enjoy the process.

Five stars out of your mom, mostly given for being really fucking impressive.