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Showing posts from July, 2016


Ulysses by James Joyce My rating: 3 of 5 stars This story of typical people from Dublin being ordinary is one of the oddest novels I’ve ever read. Though there are many admirers, it’s clear that the target audience for this book is James Joyce, and it celebrates his self-pleasure and creative freedom. This novel was published in serialized form, and we see a wide diversity in form. Some chapters spill from narration into actual script. Other chapters are pure stream of conscious, unattributed dialog, pages without punctuation, song… you name it. No restrictions at all, and about as extraordinary as a tale of the ordinary can become. There are run on sentences, there are comma splice like this one. Also, for then, for his time, there was daring obscenity (there still aren’t many books that talk about a man shitting) and subjects like masturbation, orgasm, and homosexuality. Ulysses is the ultimate response to “You can’t do THAT.” Chapters like "Eumaeus", in turn, ask &qu