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seventhswan's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Extremely difficult to know how to rate or review this but let the record show that I finished it! Understanding it all a slightly different matter!
On the whole I did genuinely enjoy this story and its characters, even if the vast majority of the wordplay, allusions, and references were lost on me. It was just about possible to parse out a narrative (with the help of Wikipedia!) and knowing in advance some basic Irish history and the general structure of the book did help me have a vague idea of what was going on. I would say that anyone with a decent grasp of English *can* read Ulysses - there are only very small sections in other languages or nonsense-speak - but there were certainly times where I was mechanically reading one word after the other just to get through it, and not properly digesting the meaning of what I was reading.
I've tried to organise my thoughts by section, as this is possibly the longest book I've ever read?
Telemachus: entirely understandable, gave me a false sense of security. Not dissimilar to the opening of any other well-written literary fiction.
Nestor: also fairly understandable, some weird sentiments about Jewish people that were uncomfortable to read.
Proteus: the point at which things first started to get difficult. I don't remember much about what happened but I remember being confused a lot. Think I got Wikipedia out at this point.
Calypso: a bit of a vibe shift but I enjoyed this section, other than the lengthy description of going to the toilet. There are women characters! And a coherent narrative again!
Lotus Eaters, Hades: both intriguing and really got into the descriptions of Dublin as a place. Despite not being entirely flattering, it made me want to go and see it for myself. Also mostly straightforward written English and interesting character backstories.
Aeolus: probably one of my favourite sections - different enough to be interesting without feeling like total nonsense.
Lestrygonians: more descriptions of Dublin as a living city! I liked this part! Also lots of food.
Scylla and Charybdis: not going to lie, I really struggled to follow this. I don't know enough about Shakespeare or his wife to understand it.
Wandering Rocks: not especially interesting to me, but understandable enough.
Sirens, Cyclops: struggled again with both of these, they were just extremely dense and yet somehow devoid of much happening that you could latch onto.
Nausicaa: *weird* in subject matter but I strangely enjoyed the way it was written? Perhaps I was just relieved to actually have characters and events I recognised again
Oxen of the Sun, Circe: the worst parts of the whole book to wade through in my opinion, I was just reading words to get closer to the end. I'm sure some very clever things were going on but they flew directly over my head
Eumaeus: back to prose I could actually read properly! Again, I enjoyed this section, but more from relief at understanding it than anything else.
Ithaca: I liked the question-and-answer layout of this section, less keen on more toilet talk and mathematics.
Penelope: 1000 pages in, we finally get to hear from Molly herself! Although written as extremely (think 20 pages each) long run-on sentences I found this not too bad to read and process, and the ending was satisfying. I don't think I could have dealt with a total non-ending after three months of reading.
Am I glad I read this book? I think I am! The parts that I was able to enjoy really were engaging, interesting, even funny in places. Would I recommend it? Only if you want to say you've read it - read Dubliners instead if you want stories set in Joyce's Ireland, and Didn't Nobody Give A Shit What Happened To Carlotta if you want chaotic travels across a city and that iconic ending line. Will I read it again? Honestly, probably yes, I think I could work a lot harder on understanding it - but not for several years, I'm back to strictly no-thoughts-head-empty reading for now.
On the whole I did genuinely enjoy this story and its characters, even if the vast majority of the wordplay, allusions, and references were lost on me. It was just about possible to parse out a narrative (with the help of Wikipedia!) and knowing in advance some basic Irish history and the general structure of the book did help me have a vague idea of what was going on. I would say that anyone with a decent grasp of English *can* read Ulysses - there are only very small sections in other languages or nonsense-speak - but there were certainly times where I was mechanically reading one word after the other just to get through it, and not properly digesting the meaning of what I was reading.
I've tried to organise my thoughts by section, as this is possibly the longest book I've ever read?
Telemachus: entirely understandable, gave me a false sense of security. Not dissimilar to the opening of any other well-written literary fiction.
Nestor: also fairly understandable, some weird sentiments about Jewish people that were uncomfortable to read.
Proteus: the point at which things first started to get difficult. I don't remember much about what happened but I remember being confused a lot. Think I got Wikipedia out at this point.
Calypso: a bit of a vibe shift but I enjoyed this section, other than the lengthy description of going to the toilet. There are women characters! And a coherent narrative again!
Lotus Eaters, Hades: both intriguing and really got into the descriptions of Dublin as a place. Despite not being entirely flattering, it made me want to go and see it for myself. Also mostly straightforward written English and interesting character backstories.
Aeolus: probably one of my favourite sections - different enough to be interesting without feeling like total nonsense.
Lestrygonians: more descriptions of Dublin as a living city! I liked this part! Also lots of food.
Scylla and Charybdis: not going to lie, I really struggled to follow this. I don't know enough about Shakespeare or his wife to understand it.
Wandering Rocks: not especially interesting to me, but understandable enough.
Sirens, Cyclops: struggled again with both of these, they were just extremely dense and yet somehow devoid of much happening that you could latch onto.
Nausicaa: *weird* in subject matter but I strangely enjoyed the way it was written? Perhaps I was just relieved to actually have characters and events I recognised again
Oxen of the Sun, Circe: the worst parts of the whole book to wade through in my opinion, I was just reading words to get closer to the end. I'm sure some very clever things were going on but they flew directly over my head
Eumaeus: back to prose I could actually read properly! Again, I enjoyed this section, but more from relief at understanding it than anything else.
Ithaca: I liked the question-and-answer layout of this section, less keen on more toilet talk and mathematics.
Penelope: 1000 pages in, we finally get to hear from Molly herself! Although written as extremely (think 20 pages each) long run-on sentences I found this not too bad to read and process, and the ending was satisfying. I don't think I could have dealt with a total non-ending after three months of reading.
Am I glad I read this book? I think I am! The parts that I was able to enjoy really were engaging, interesting, even funny in places. Would I recommend it? Only if you want to say you've read it - read Dubliners instead if you want stories set in Joyce's Ireland, and Didn't Nobody Give A Shit What Happened To Carlotta if you want chaotic travels across a city and that iconic ending line. Will I read it again? Honestly, probably yes, I think I could work a lot harder on understanding it - but not for several years, I'm back to strictly no-thoughts-head-empty reading for now.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death, Misogyny, Sexual content, Excrement, Antisemitism, and Alcohol
Minor: Pregnancy
edwardian_girl_next_door's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
"If Ulysses isn't worth reading, life isn't worth living." --James Joyce
While some people might dismiss this as an egotistical defense by the author, I wholeheartedly agree with Joyce. The way this novel encompasses the entirety of the human experiences, from charting bodily fluids and pregnancy to intellectual failings and paternal grief, is astounding. It is cryptic yet illuminating, frank and quirky yet immensely relatable, and all told in a variety of rollicking and satirical styles. I hesitated reviewing this at all (even though I write these for fun) because I'm not sure I could properly describe or "judge" this book. It feels like writing a review on life.
A more specific detail I found touching was the innate humanity of the characters. Leopold Bloom is an earthy, caring, humble individual; all the same we can recoil from or wonder at his underwear fetish or sadomasochistic leanings. We can sympathise with Stephen Dedalus who grieves the death of his mother and his emotionally-absent father; we can also recognise his problems are self-made and he can be a little stuck up sometimes. We can laugh at them and we can laugh with them. And all the while, their fluid personalities move in and out of hallucinations, political discourse, sexual experiences, and flashbacks, illustrating their character even more deeply. To me, writing is about communicating shared human experience, to make someone say (even decades and centuries and millennia from now): "yes, this is it! someone else feels it too. someone, somewhere, sometime, has felt it and captured it for posterity." When I can see bits of myself and my loved ones within a work like Ulysses, it makes it all the more valuable to me.
To maybe specify my point a little, here are my favourite characters, in no particular order:
1) Gertrude (Gerty) MacDowell, chapter 15 "Nausicaa" -- This might be a little controversial, but I have a soft spot for Gerty. People can dismiss her all they want for being prissy, materialistic, vain, or lewd, but I viewed her instead as a poignant commentary on female expression. Her inner monologue is filled with phrases that sound straight out of Edwardian ladies' magazines or newspaper love advice columns, but think about it: is she given any other way to express herself as a lesser-educated woman? Is it a distraction from the disability that haunts her in an unaccepting and conservative society? Is it a commentary on how the world makes women in to a commodity? Is it the tragedy of a woman turned into a product by society, herself, and eventually Bloom the salesman?Does she end up literally "selling herself short" by exposing herself to the temporary fling that Bloom represents? The charming little joys she finds in her overpriced stockings and blue ribbon buoy her seemingly hopeless life; her digs at her companions and the baby give her contradictory colour and show us a bit of who the real, unadulterated Gerty is when she is given the power to express herself. Compared with the linguistically-liberated Molly, she is a completely different being. I choose to view her as an open-ended question about female agency and expression within that capsule of Edwardian Dublin on that fateful summer day.
2) Martin Cunningham, various chapters -- Martin is a darn good friend, simple as that. He defends Bloom's dad in "Hades";he pulls Bloom away from the anti-Semitic altercation in "Cyclops" . He is kind, non-judgmental, and loyal through and through. I enjoyed every time he popped up with a supportive word and guiding hand. I would have liked to know more about him and his life.
3) Molly Bloom, particularly chapter 17 "Penelope" -- Molly has been derided and praised alike by many, many people over the years. Some are disgusted by her frank, sexual language; others find her punctuation-less outpouring refreshing and shockingly progressive. I, as a woman, loved Molly's chapter almost more than the rest of the book. From complaining about not being dressed properly to answer the mailman to lamenting the arrival of her period, it was almost as if Molly was privy to my own inner monologue. I didn't mind her winding thoughts or frequently explicit imaginings, and I felt bad for her lack of true emotional connection, even if it was a little self-imposed. She is full of inconsistent quirks, constantly going back on her prominent assertions. For instance, she ultimately loves Bloom and the life they have together, but is irritated out of her mind by some of his more unusual quirks and lack of expressed affection. She contemplates leaving him with Boylan, then fiercely defends him against what she believes to be the 'bad lot' he's fallen in with. That, to me, is the hallmark of any close relationship, romantic or otherwise. The chapter's intense realism struck a deep chord with me. While none of this is an excuse to cheat on your spouse, it offers Molly's reasoning that, honestly, makes sense. She is the climactic and fascinating ending to a rollercoaster ride of a novel -- in many ways, she is the other half of Bloom that we have been missing all day.
Honourable mention to Simon Dedalus, Stephen's dad, for using the most interesting blasphemes and curses I have ever read.
If you are considering reading Ulysses, strap in for a long one. Although other life circumstances got in the way, it took me about seven months to finish this book. A lot of patience and dedication is needed. I would recommend some kind of commentary to help you along the way -- I had Ulysses Annotated by Don Gifford for specific references and The Guide to James Joyce's Ulysses by Patrick Hastings for general overview. The latter certainly worked better for me! The author helps you understand what the heck is going on, along with providing bits of advice and snippets of commentary from other learned scholars to guide you in deciphering and digesting a complex masterpiece. Expect to learn a ton from whatever source you choose, from an abridged history of the Irish independence movement and cattle vocabulary to obscure operas and Shakespeare's extended family. Joyce certainly breaks the barriers between different fields of knowledge and study.
Good luck to all of you embarking on the journey! I hope you can find enjoyment even in the slow moments and end-of-chapter slogs. I think it is definitely worth the work.
While some people might dismiss this as an egotistical defense by the author, I wholeheartedly agree with Joyce. The way this novel encompasses the entirety of the human experiences, from charting bodily fluids and pregnancy to intellectual failings and paternal grief, is astounding. It is cryptic yet illuminating, frank and quirky yet immensely relatable, and all told in a variety of rollicking and satirical styles. I hesitated reviewing this at all (even though I write these for fun) because I'm not sure I could properly describe or "judge" this book. It feels like writing a review on life.
A more specific detail I found touching was the innate humanity of the characters. Leopold Bloom is an earthy, caring, humble individual; all the same we can recoil from or wonder at his underwear fetish or sadomasochistic leanings. We can sympathise with Stephen Dedalus who grieves the death of his mother and his emotionally-absent father; we can also recognise his problems are self-made and he can be a little stuck up sometimes. We can laugh at them and we can laugh with them. And all the while, their fluid personalities move in and out of hallucinations, political discourse, sexual experiences, and flashbacks, illustrating their character even more deeply. To me, writing is about communicating shared human experience, to make someone say (even decades and centuries and millennia from now): "yes, this is it! someone else feels it too. someone, somewhere, sometime, has felt it and captured it for posterity." When I can see bits of myself and my loved ones within a work like Ulysses, it makes it all the more valuable to me.
To maybe specify my point a little, here are my favourite characters, in no particular order:
1) Gertrude (Gerty) MacDowell, chapter 15 "Nausicaa" -- This might be a little controversial, but I have a soft spot for Gerty. People can dismiss her all they want for being prissy, materialistic, vain, or lewd, but I viewed her instead as a poignant commentary on female expression. Her inner monologue is filled with phrases that sound straight out of Edwardian ladies' magazines or newspaper love advice columns, but think about it: is she given any other way to express herself as a lesser-educated woman? Is it a distraction from the disability that haunts her in an unaccepting and conservative society? Is it a commentary on how the world makes women in to a commodity? Is it the tragedy of a woman turned into a product by society, herself, and eventually Bloom the salesman?
2) Martin Cunningham, various chapters -- Martin is a darn good friend, simple as that. He defends Bloom's dad in "Hades";
3) Molly Bloom, particularly chapter 17 "Penelope" -- Molly has been derided and praised alike by many, many people over the years. Some are disgusted by her frank, sexual language; others find her punctuation-less outpouring refreshing and shockingly progressive. I, as a woman, loved Molly's chapter almost more than the rest of the book. From complaining about not being dressed properly to answer the mailman to lamenting the arrival of her period, it was almost as if Molly was privy to my own inner monologue. I didn't mind her winding thoughts or frequently explicit imaginings, and I felt bad for her lack of true emotional connection, even if it was a little self-imposed. She is full of inconsistent quirks, constantly going back on her prominent assertions. For instance, she ultimately loves Bloom and the life they have together, but is irritated out of her mind by some of his more unusual quirks and lack of expressed affection. She contemplates leaving him with Boylan, then fiercely defends him against what she believes to be the 'bad lot' he's fallen in with. That, to me, is the hallmark of any close relationship, romantic or otherwise. The chapter's intense realism struck a deep chord with me. While none of this is an excuse to cheat on your spouse, it offers Molly's reasoning that, honestly, makes sense. She is the climactic and fascinating ending to a rollercoaster ride of a novel -- in many ways, she is the other half of Bloom that we have been missing all day.
Honourable mention to Simon Dedalus, Stephen's dad, for using the most interesting blasphemes and curses I have ever read.
If you are considering reading Ulysses, strap in for a long one. Although other life circumstances got in the way, it took me about seven months to finish this book. A lot of patience and dedication is needed. I would recommend some kind of commentary to help you along the way -- I had Ulysses Annotated by Don Gifford for specific references and The Guide to James Joyce's Ulysses by Patrick Hastings for general overview. The latter certainly worked better for me! The author helps you understand what the heck is going on, along with providing bits of advice and snippets of commentary from other learned scholars to guide you in deciphering and digesting a complex masterpiece. Expect to learn a ton from whatever source you choose, from an abridged history of the Irish independence movement and cattle vocabulary to obscure operas and Shakespeare's extended family. Joyce certainly breaks the barriers between different fields of knowledge and study.
Good luck to all of you embarking on the journey! I hope you can find enjoyment even in the slow moments and end-of-chapter slogs. I think it is definitely worth the work.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cursing, Infidelity, Sexual content, Torture, and Antisemitism
Moderate: Alcoholism, Child death, Suicide, Grief, Death of parent, and Pregnancy
Minor: Racism, Excrement, and Murder
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