In my typical fashion, I jumped into James Joyce’s Ulysses a week or so ago, and it did my head in, as in that cliché phrase from the 1960s. My brain imploded, and I had to spit out the bits and pieces of that body part throughout the room where I do most of my reading. Undoubtedly, it is one of the most challenging books I have ever read. In other words, I loved it. Reading without pain is not a life worth living. I think I would need to read it five more times, including using the guidebook by Patrick Hastings, because without using
S FOR Stephen, M for Molly, P for Penelope (?). Stephan haunted by his mother, on whose deathbed she asked for his prayers but he could not. Leopold sleeping with his head at Molly's feet, Leopold eyeing the lame girl at the same time Blazes and Molly were making love -- and g-d it, Ulysses is NOT hard to read.
Your insights appreciated. It seems like a short jump from Dada to Joyce to Situationist International through the end of the sixties. Everything since has been a sick joke with us as the punchline … Exploding Plastic Inevitable indeed.
gotta upgrade to paid
S FOR Stephen, M for Molly, P for Penelope (?). Stephan haunted by his mother, on whose deathbed she asked for his prayers but he could not. Leopold sleeping with his head at Molly's feet, Leopold eyeing the lame girl at the same time Blazes and Molly were making love -- and g-d it, Ulysses is NOT hard to read.
Your insights appreciated. It seems like a short jump from Dada to Joyce to Situationist International through the end of the sixties. Everything since has been a sick joke with us as the punchline … Exploding Plastic Inevitable indeed.