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joyce_appreciator's review against another edition
challenging
dark
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Yeah, still a banger. Reading this again what struck me is as always how fairly conventional the narrative is for Irish semi-autobiography other than the total mastery of language and style and the controlled irony that keeps you at an appreciable distance from the precocious Stephen. If I was PM would be a nationally mandated GCSE text!!!
casthedragon's review against another edition
challenging
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
I guess it kind of grew on me. In the beginning I really couldn't care less and was just going through this for class, but the further along I got the more I actually started to get interested in the story.
jyoti_03's review against another edition
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
donnawr1's review against another edition
2.0
This is the second James Joyce I've tried and I'm afraid I'm just not a fan. I listened to an audiobook, so maybe it would have been easier to follow if I saw the written word, but in spite of some poetic language at times, it was so hard to follow, I often wasn't quite sure what was going on. After I finished, I looked up the Wikipedia summary so I could fill in some of the gaps. I didn't like the jumping around style with excrutiating detail in some places (like the sermons on hell.... Ughh) and so little information in others that it was hard to follow. Even the POV changes, so one moment you are in 3rd person close, following Steven's every thought, and then the narrative changes to omniscient, so he is just one of a group and is described in a detached manner. At times, the protagonist was going through so much mental turmoil it was very much like memoirs of those with mental illnesses. His selfishness relative to the sacrifices his family made to send him to school, where at times he barely tried, was annoying to listen to. I could never get myself to care about this character and would not have finished the book if it weren't a classic I thought I should read. Good to be done and I won't bother to pick up another Joyce. There was absolutely no enjoyment in it.
freeztrip's review
3.0
Well, I did it. If I do it again, which I never will, I wouldn’t stop to read every bloody note. Nope, just wouldn’t do it. My reading pace slowed down to the speed of molasses and then I just got so impatient that I threw the carton of molasses at the wall. And then, with heavy-head, picked up the carton of molasses from the ground, and tried, yet again, (for the millionth time!) to read at the speed of molasses. Wow, what does it say about me that I’m enjoying writing the review of a book more than reading the book itself? And I love the phrase “speed of molasses”. I think Joyce would too. Maybe.
Ok, I mean, I do remember flashes of brilliance. Joyce is obviously a genius. I love his descriptions of. Nature and his dialogue when it focuses on the cosmic but the other dialogue I think would have been lovely to have been heard read out loud, with Irish speakers, of course. And the hellfire and brimstone sermon chapter was ambitious. Stephan clearly goes through quite a journey and I think the most interesting part of the book was to see this boy’s beliefs change, from life stage to life stage. Which is, I guess, what happens as you age and change. And that is true and relatable to me. It makes me think about tracking my own journey of beliefs, how they’ve expanded and contracted as Ive aged. Ok, Joyce, you got me. That, perhaps, was worth the read.
Ok, I mean, I do remember flashes of brilliance. Joyce is obviously a genius. I love his descriptions of. Nature and his dialogue when it focuses on the cosmic but the other dialogue I think would have been lovely to have been heard read out loud, with Irish speakers, of course. And the hellfire and brimstone sermon chapter was ambitious. Stephan clearly goes through quite a journey and I think the most interesting part of the book was to see this boy’s beliefs change, from life stage to life stage. Which is, I guess, what happens as you age and change. And that is true and relatable to me. It makes me think about tracking my own journey of beliefs, how they’ve expanded and contracted as Ive aged. Ok, Joyce, you got me. That, perhaps, was worth the read.
morrman's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
The descriptions of flames of hell will stay with me forever
danelleeb's review against another edition
3.0
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is Joyce's semi-autobiographical book that follows the experiences of Stephen Dedalus (Joyce's alter-ego in the book) as he grapples with religious and philosophical ideas (not to mention the political struggles between England and Ireland). The prose is just narrative, though "just narrative" really sells it short. It is absolutely gorgeous. Not for everyone, it seems to have a really polarized following - people either really, really love this or really, really hate it. I loved it and thought it both profound and poetical. Joyce truly was an intelligent writer.
His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning.
His heart danced upon her movements like a cork upon a tide. He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he had heard their tale before.
I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it calls itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use -- silence, exile, and cunning.
hornswogglerator's review against another edition
In browsing the reviews of this book, I've noticed that it seems to be impossible to talk about James Joyce's work without sounding like you're talking with your head up your ass. That said, I have mixed feelings about Portrait.
There was much that I appreciated. Joyce is really fantastic at describing settings. There are stories from Dubliners where the setting is my most vivid memory of the story, to the point where it is the only memory of the story I actually have. I can't think of another writer I've read who does that for me. I can also appreciate how he seemed to wallow in his command of the English language in certain passages. He wrote eloquently and you can tell he was having a good time doing it. This impression might partially derive from a recording I've heard of him reading from Finnegans Wake, because he sounds so plucky and happy in it. Plus, I am only vaguely familiar with the content of Ulysses but I understand it has a very sharp sense of humor about it. I have difficulty believing that there isn't at least a trace of revelry and mirth flowing underneath all the exaggerated seriousness of youth presented in the book. (Like I said, impossible to talk about his work without jamming your head up your ass.)
On the other hand, though I never particularly struggled in making progress but I had this obnoxious and nagging feeling that I was missing out on a lot of things. I am fairly confident that I was due to my lack of knowledge about Catholic tradition and the Latin language, but I can't help think there is something else that should be grabbing my attention and holding it about this book. It may be that I have fallen out of practice for reading stream of consciousness, or a number of other things. Regardless, I intend to come back to this one in a few years with annotations and some more experience under my belt.
I've said it in the past about Moby Dick, but I think some internal conflict about highly regarded works of literature is healthy. It might even be that the ability to stir up such uncertainty in the reader is what makes books like Moby Dick and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man such enduring classics.
There was much that I appreciated. Joyce is really fantastic at describing settings. There are stories from Dubliners where the setting is my most vivid memory of the story, to the point where it is the only memory of the story I actually have. I can't think of another writer I've read who does that for me. I can also appreciate how he seemed to wallow in his command of the English language in certain passages. He wrote eloquently and you can tell he was having a good time doing it. This impression might partially derive from a recording I've heard of him reading from Finnegans Wake, because he sounds so plucky and happy in it. Plus, I am only vaguely familiar with the content of Ulysses but I understand it has a very sharp sense of humor about it. I have difficulty believing that there isn't at least a trace of revelry and mirth flowing underneath all the exaggerated seriousness of youth presented in the book. (Like I said, impossible to talk about his work without jamming your head up your ass.)
On the other hand, though I never particularly struggled in making progress but I had this obnoxious and nagging feeling that I was missing out on a lot of things. I am fairly confident that I was due to my lack of knowledge about Catholic tradition and the Latin language, but I can't help think there is something else that should be grabbing my attention and holding it about this book. It may be that I have fallen out of practice for reading stream of consciousness, or a number of other things. Regardless, I intend to come back to this one in a few years with annotations and some more experience under my belt.
I've said it in the past about Moby Dick, but I think some internal conflict about highly regarded works of literature is healthy. It might even be that the ability to stir up such uncertainty in the reader is what makes books like Moby Dick and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man such enduring classics.