Riuscirà Stephen Dedalus a trovare l'ispirazione, il proprio pubblico, una figura paterna e un po' di pace spirituale?
Riuscirà Leopold Bloom a riconquistare il talamo nuziale, la paternità perduta e il cuore della propria infedele, eppur saggia, moglie?
Riuscirà il nostro Leopold almeno a tornare a casa dopo una giornata di avventure per le strade della Dublino di inizio secolo?
Riusciranno i due uomini ad incontrarsi fortuitamente?
Soprattutto, cosa ne pensa Molly Bloom?

SCOPROLO! ( )

Will Stephen Dedalus find his inspiration, his public, his lost spiritual father, his peace of mind?
Will Leopold Bloom reconquer his nuptial talamus, his lost paternity and the heart of his unfaithful yet trustworthy wife?
Will he make it home after a day's adventure up and down the streets of 1904 Dublin?
Will the two men succeed in fortuitously meeting each other?
More than anything else, what does Molly Bloom think of all this?

Find it out through 682 pages of fun, spelling puns & plays on words, literary criticism, stage play, nursery rhymes, many deaths plus one birth, cathechism, interior monologues, journalistic scandals, ghostly apparitions, sex, drugs and light opera music, brothels and brawls, and meet the Dubliners (nearly all of them, indeed)!


This time, I read the Italian translation at the same time, and The Bloomsday Book. Much satisfaction!
I won't add my unrequested farty opinion to the flood of words written on the subject.
Let me just share my experienced Bloomer's tips: stop thinking about how descouraging Ulysses is, and try to enjoy. If (when) you don't understand, seek for help by a companion book. If you get the idea that there is more it than you can actually understand at the moment, well, you are probably right. It simply means that, one day, you will read it again after some research. Or maybe not.

And, yes, it's forbiddingly difficult at moments. It's literature, baby, and there's nothing you can do about it. ( )

Possibly the best novel ever written ( )

I like to pretend sometimes that I know what on Earth is going on in this novel, and I feel so proud of myself in these rare moments. It's a little known fact that you're IQ actually increases when you think about reading this novel, let alone trying to read it. And if you do try to read it (because you can only ever try), you can actually feel the sprouting of brain cells inside your head. Just be careful not to push yourself too far at once though, or you might end up with brain aneurysm. Happy reading! ( )

This is hard work. ( )

It took me three tries, spanning about 15 years, but with this last effort, I finally finished the book. I had hoped to feel completion came with an understanding of what Joyce set out to achieve. But alas, that was not the case. ( )

That was the longest, most grueling (five week) day in my life. This was not my first attempt to read Ulysses. It was my fourth - the last was in 1991. I know this because a bookmark in Episode 3, where I abandoned it last, was my son’s invitation to his playmate’s fourth birthday party. I am glad I stuck it out this time, although I found so much of it tedious and dense. The last episode, supposedly an hour in Molly Bloom’s head, was the best in my opinion, although I am not sure I would have felt the same had I not simultaneously read the book and listened to the audio book. The episode has nearly no punctuation and few paragraph breaks. The reader orally paused, taking the guesswork out of it. I am not sure why Joyce chose that writing device. It felt sexist to me, as if only the men were capable of proper punctuation, even though their thoughts were at least as, if not more, rambling and often random. Lots of lovely prose sprinkled in though, lyrical and illustrative. I reached my private Everest. ( )

If you like puzzles and poetry, and are not really interested in reading a story, you might like this book, at least if you take a year and read a hundred pages per month, taking time to analyze and ponder every single line. If this text was a long lost key to the 'grand unified theory of everything', or the only available record on the history and culture of the lost city of Atlantis, such an undertaking could be quite rewarding, since spending that long trying to tease some sense out of a text makes sense where the text has such value. Otherwise, who in their right mind would bother wasting so much time on so much drivel just for a tale about a couple drunk, sexist men in Dublin wandering about town after a funeral?

So, did I enjoy this book? Nope. Would I recommend this book? Nope. Are there thousands of books more worth spending time on compared to this book? Absolutely. I occasionally enjoyed the nerd-factor of recognizing references to other stories, books and authors, and there are lots of these references, but this enjoyment never quite made up for the pointlessness of focusing so much energy on just trying to focus on the text for a few more pages without getting too bored and annoyed. Some classics are just not that good, and this is one of them. ( )

I've been trying to read this book since I was 14. It is by turns tedious and delightfully absorbing. Some parts really are just silly. It manages to be simultaneously pretentious and down-to-earth. It is definitely vulgar in parts. It's re-readable and readable over and over in many ways, and the culture of readership, interpretation, and biography that has accrued around it is part of the fun. If you are in Dublin it's a great way to explore Dublin. I enjoy it and I might come back to it. I have now made it all the way to episode 15, Circe, and this time I know I will finish it. I recommend following along with a good audiobook, reading aloud, attending a Joycean/Bloomsday event. It's actually fun. ( )

Some people claim Joyce's Ulysses and a literary masterpiece; a work of genius. Others claim it's the unreadable work of a madman. I won't go as far as to say it's unreadable. Parts of it were quite interesting. But unfortunately I did find large parts of it pretty much incomprehensible. ( )

I like this description: "this is a novel more discussed than read." I therefore refuse to discuss it, except to note that I did enjoy reading it. Quite a bit. ( )

Maybe I went too fast and skimmed; but I don't think I did. When I started reading Ulysses, by James Joyce, I had intended on reading with a group (#80daysofulysses) and take it slowly. However, my thinking after the first five episodes was that it was so bad that I could not imprison myself in this book for 80 days! I was not prepared to read this book as each section (chapter) was entitled with the name of a Greek myth of which I was not aware. I had read Homer's Ulysses some 50 years ago in college and don't remember it being "too bad." I have never liked to read mythology so I had to look up every mythological event or person and get some background to try to understand the section. It didn't work. As much as I want to experience broad types of literature, I can honestly say I will never read a book written in stream of consciousness again! This book was nothing more than blathering to me. It reminded me of the Marx Brothers and slap-stick comedy, which I don't find funny. I can honestly say that I am not a better person for reading this. Since I'm in the minority, I'll admit it must have gone right over my head! I even used SparkNotes to help me try to understand each unit. I understood what I read in SparkNotes, but how that was deduced from what Joyce wrote, I am unable to understand. I won't be reading anymore Joyce! 768 pages This was published in 1920. (Banned in the U.S. until 1933 when the Supreme Court allowed it to be published) ( )

In the end there wasn't anything to it. You really like the place you grow up in. Really smart people can play around with words and it is sometimes fun to read but not that often really. ( )

... and now for something completely different. ( )

This is a classic, but many will not enjoy it. If you need a plot this is not the best choice. If you like grammatical language you'll be challenged. If you react to offensive language take a pass on this one. If you need to understand most of what you read this will not be rewarding. If you are disturbed by honoring colonialism, antisemitism, misogyny, racism, classism, snobbery, anti-British union, voyeurism, you will be triggered many many times. The language is definitely dated and the author clearly wants to have you see Leopold Bloom, the central character, as a man of turn of the century Dublin using language of the time and place. Indeed the places are what grounds everything. Those are the downsides.

What jumps off the page is the brilliance of the author. The imagination is incredible. He loves giving many many many alternative words for the same thing. I never thought of water coming in so many words and phrases. We are often presented with what must be imaginary events. The run on words heighten the feeling of touching his thought patterns. Feelings are intense and everywhere and often hard to fathom or follow. I gave up trying to understand everything and just went with the flow. The author often switches between several languages including Latin and Hebrew and uses their alphabets. Shakespeare and Conan Doyle are constantly in the air. And when we are given multiple phrases for the same thing very often a cliché appears in the middle of everything probably to let us know he's still there. Events are difficult to follow but his path through one day begins with a funeral, goes through several pubs and the streets between and eventually home again. His wife, Marion, an opera singer, is mentioned throughout the day and occasionally there are references to a a daughter, Milly but we never meet her. Only at the very end, do we really "meet" his wife but then it gets intense and highly personal recounting various lovers. The author also presents this saga in various forms, often like a novel, occasionally like a poem, and sometimes in the form of a play.

One mystery is eventually solved with a single sentence. I had expected Leopold Bloom to be Jewish and yet he is surrounded by numerous priests and churches. Yet he is often treated as though he clearly looks Jewish and is treated, demeaningly, as if he is. A sentence late in the book finally lets us know the answer. His father changed the family name from Virag to Bloom and had converted to Catholicism. Not unusual for the time. Bloom's wife grew up in Gibraltar and is more clearly Christian.

I struggled through the 770 pages. I committed, to myself, to read 10 pages a day, no more no less. It was often a chore. ( )

My third go at finishing Ulysses and finally made it through this time. I'm inclined to think Joyce's best work is Dubliners. I can admire the invention and exceptional cleverness of Ulysses but it doesn't move me as Dubliners does. It's so full of arcane references too that notes are essential. But the text is pretty revolutionary. The stream-of-consciousness and interior monologue are accessible with practice and Bloom's thoughts are very readable. But there are tougher passages like Stephen at the National Library. The parodying of styles keeps it entertaining yet for me it's yet to cohere into a masterpiece. I can appreciate the Homeric parallels and the theme of a father and son's search for each other, but it still seems an unwieldy book. Due to its innovation I rate it highly but it's a challenging read for an Irishman, so God knows what those outside Ireland can glean from it. ( )

Well that was quite the experience. I always thought that, as lover of literature (and of Irish lineage), I HAD to read Ulysses before I passed. Like many others I'm sure, I was intimidated and doubted my ability to finish the work much less understand and appreciate it.

I don't claim to understand it all yet but I can say I certainly appreciate it. It is, without a doubt, a monumental and pivotal work of fiction. I suppose it's hyperbole, but one can see the seeds of modern fiction taking root. Another incredible facet of the work is Joyce's mastery of a variety of writing styles. The last of my initial observations is the surprising amount of humor in the work.

My next step is to read Harry Blamires' "The New Bloomsday Book", which as you no doubt know is an authoritative guide to Ulysses. I wanted to read the book prior to the guide so as to not allow the guide to become the book. No doubt I'll have further thoughts after finishing Blamires' guide.

Having now finished Ulysses, I can now relax as my literary bucket list is completed. ( )

FINALLY! That's the fist thing I can think of saying for this review. Always wanted to read this since college and reading Mrs. Dalloway. Took me so long because I never had the guts to read the book. I really enjoyed this though, didn't understand everything, but thought it was amazing.

With that said, don't read this book unless you know what you're getting yourself into and have a reason to read Ulysses. Yes this is an ultimate classic, but this book is not easy. Like I said before, I'm not sure what I read half the time. I get the point of the book, but not the full plot. Plus, be prepared to read just about every kind of narrative style all within one book. One minute you're reading a novel and the next thing you know you're reading a play, then a Q&A, and then a 45 page run-on sentence, and so much more. BE WARNED!

But yes I did enjoy this book a lot. I just love books like this were the plot becomes less important and the characters and writing style take over. I mainly liked this for the 45 page sentence though. For literature it's historic because like Mrs. Dalloway, it's one of the early usages of the stream-of-contentedness. Never fully understood that term until awhile ago and this book gives the perfect example. It's like if someone was to write down every little thing you were thinking about before you fall asleep.

Another reason I loved this book was for the fact it was experimental writing at its finest. Where the writer gave the bird to the editors and wrote about everything and anyway they desire. Like most of the books I've been reading this year this goes places some wouldn't enjoy. I think this is when I realized this book was never about a plot, but more thoughts James Joyce had about society.

One thing this book will have an affect on you is that it might make you want to go to Ireland. Never had that thought before. I've wanted to go to England at some point, but now I might have to add Ireland too. From what the book points out, sounds like a great place to visit. I'm not really Irish at all and I feel it a little now.

Anyways, I could go on and on about this book because it talks about so much and there are s many interesting points. I think I covered what I liked the best. I say don't read this unless you know what you're getting yourself into, but if you do happen to read it try to spend time with it and try to get some points mentioned in this book. It is a great book and I can see way they tell people to read Ulysses. ( )

Non capio, sed me cornea fecit. ( )

I don't know why I feel the need to apologize, but this is the third time I tried to read this and failed. I tried this time with a group, hoping that would make it more intelligible and less oppressive--but, no, it was pretty much the same reaction as the first time. I will not ever try again. If it had been up to me, James Joyce would still be languishing in obscurity.

I know, I know...it is avant guard, it is groundbreaking, it is unique, and (for those who share his sense of humor) it is humorous, but it didn't feel any of those things to me. Maybe I just don't do cutting edge. I also hated Confederacy of Dunces, and for much the same reasons.

My hat is off to everyone who slugged through it, really off to everyone who found the things that are worth admiring, and a little bit of fear for those who actually enjoyed it. :) ( )

Holy Crap! What a not good book. This was the latest "on the can" book. I read this a page at a time. I am planning on googling its meaning and purpose. But what I did see in this book was the makings of a classic novel. If Joyce wouldn't have been so lazy and used these characters he developed in a plot of some kind. Still, there were flashes of brilliance. ( )

Szerb Antal mondta volt, hogy az Ulysses blöff, amit lehetetlen megérteni, és amit csak a sznobok ajnároznak – ezzel egy elég markáns, azóta is létező olvasói vélemény prototípusát alkotta meg. Viszont lehetséges, hogy bizonyos aspektusból (ami annyit tesz, hogy más aspektusból viszont nyilván nem) Szerb Antal is sznob volt, csak második generációs sznob, aki csak azért is lehúzta azt, amit az elavult első generációs sznobok ajnároztak. (Közben meg valószínűleg egyszerűen nem volt oda a könyvért, csak hát az ilyesmit egy tudós kritikus szereti tágabb kontextusba helyezni.) No most én első generációs sznob koromban*, 17 évesen olvastam el az ominózus művet (még Szentkuthy fordításában), és bizony ha agyonlőttek volna, sem vallottam volna be, hogy nem tetszik. De jó emlékeim maradtak róla, nem hagytam félbe, még ha szenvedtem is vele, és gyakran egy mukkot se fogtam fel belőle. Azóta eltelt 20 év, és megint elolvastam. És határozottan szerettem. Mi több: imádtam. Úgyhogy vagy maradtam első generációs sznob, vagy – Szerb Antalon is túllépve – immáron harmadik generációs sznobbá avanzsáltam, aki ajnározza azokat a könyveket, amiket a második generációs sznobok azért húznak le, mert az első generációs sznobok ajnározzák őket.

Becsszóra mondom: jó könyv ez. Én például rég nevettem hangosan a buszon – most igen. Dallama van, lüktetése, és egy olyan átgondolt koncepciója, ami az előző fordításban (vagy 17 évesen) emlékeim szerint nem látszott**. Hadd éljek egy klisével: benne van az egész XX. század irodalma. Egy anya halálával kezdődik, mint Camus Közöny-e. Van benne rengeteg rozs, mint Salinger klasszikusában viszont zab egy darab se, pont mint abban. @NannyOgg meg az Amerikai pszicho-t vizionálta bele, nem véletlenül. És úgy végződik, ahogy minden jó regénynek kéne: azzal, hogy "igen mondtam igen akarom Igen." De a lényeg: hogy amikor egyetlen napban mutatja meg a végtelenséget a maga tripjeivel és asszociációs láncaival, arra kényszerít minket, hogy átértelmezzük, mint jelent „érteni egy regényt”. Érteni (klasszikus értelmezésben) olyan, mint kontrollálni. Nos, ebben az értelemben ezt a könyvet valóban nem lehet érteni. De állíthatjuk, hogy értjük Beethovent? Mozart-ot? Messit? Anyánk húslevesét? Aztán mégis elvagyunk velük valahogy.

Ezzel nem azt akarom mondani, hogy az Ulysses érthetetlen. Dehogy is az. Épp ellenkezőleg: ez a könyv végső soron világos szöveg. Világos passzusokkal van tele nemzetről, vallásról, antiszemitizmusról, képmutatásról, tisztes és tiszteletlen nyomorról, és sok minden másról. Nehéz szöveg, nem tagadom – nem tanácsos például egy hajtós nap végén, este 11-kor elkezdeni az olvasását –, de világos. Csak éppen minden egyes olvasásnál mást jelent – ha most újrakezdeném, biztos mást (is) találnék benne. (De azért nem fogom. Kivéve a 12. és a 15. fejezetet.) Szabadon dönthetünk az értelmük felől – értelemszerűen ha úgy döntünk, hogy nincs értelmük, akkor sem követünk el hibát, csak éppen megfosztottuk magunkat az élvezettől. És ez a számtalanul-érthetőség az, ami a végtelenségig kitágítja az Ulysses világát, ez az, amitől ez a munka a posztmodern irodalom csimborasszója, vonatkozási pontja és non plus ultrája, a könyv, amiről az idők végezetéig lehet vitatkozni, és mégsem jutunk a végére. Csak az időnek.

Ui1.: Ja, és a zárszóba még egyszer iderángatom Szerb Antalt. Tóni! A „blöff” nem minőségjelző. Ha elengedem magam, tudok érvelni amellett, hogy minden író blöfföl, amikor megír egy világirodalmi klasszikust – te is –: leül, és úgy csinál, mintha épp valami zseniséget írna. És csodák csodája: néha tényleg azt ír! A minőségjelző az, hogy „jó” meg „rossz”. A jó blöffel meg éppúgy elviszed a bankot, mintha négy ász lett volna a kezedben.

* Élelmiszeripariba jártam. Ott kis túlzással mindenki sznob volt, aki könyvet olvasott. Én meg rögtön az Ulyssest! Nem apróztam el. (Viszont egy csajt se szedtem fel vele, pedig valószínűleg ez volt tudat alatt a cél… nem voltam egy nagy stratéga már akkor sem.)
** Blueisthenewpink értékelésében ezek szépen fel vannak vezetve, maximálisan egyetértek vele. Nem ismételném meg: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2953055105 ( )

Ebben a könyvben minden van. De tényleg, minden. Van vers, van dráma, van próza, annak számtalan stílusa. Van számla és kotta, hirdetés és hírek, szalagcímekkel. Van születés, van temetés. Van flört és van szex. Van kisgyerek és kisbaba, lelkész és matróz(?), tudomány és vallás(ok), férfiak, nők és sírásók. Politika és művészet, közös hugyozás, kerti budin kakálás (újsággal), menstruációs vér, férfi szőrzet, lábujjköröm-szagolgatás, Shakespeare-elemzés, sorban állás, kocsmázás, evés és ivás, könyvkatalógus és katekizmus.

Lomb Kató könyve közben kezdtem olvasni, így nem rettentett el a francia, német, latin, olasz szöveg, csak az volt a furcsa, hogy nincs benne orosz és kínai. Nem árt, ha az ember kicsit nyelvbuzi (nincs erre jobb szó?) a soknyelvű poénokhoz (volt, hogy nem győztem elfojtani a vigyorgást a metrón).

(Az amúgy megvan, hogy Bloom magyar? Sőt, „[a] helytörténészek kiderítették, hogy az 1800-as évek közepén valóban élt [Szombathelyen], a mai Fő tér 41. szám alatti házában egy Blum nevű család. E család leszármazottja volt egy bizonyos Virág Lipót, aki Triesztben került kapcsolatba James Joyce-szal.” http://vaskarika.hu/hirek/reszletek/13582/pecseteles_guinness_ir_kocsmazene-a_22...

Joyce mesterien bánt az angol nyelvvel. Nem tudom, mit tud ebből (és az egész zseniből) visszaadni a fordítás. (Talán el kéne olvasnom magyarul is :P) Amikor a szavak hangzása tökéletesen visszaadja azt, ahogy a tenger hullámai megtörnek a parti sziklákon, amikor egy szövegrész csupa egy szótagú szóból áll, vagy amikor éppen kétszer húsz oldalon keresztül semmilyen központozás nincs, még aposztróf sem (így lett az e-könyvben I'll helyett 111…) húsz oldal után van egy pont, valamint a legvégén. Közben bekezdések tagolják a szöveget mondatokra, de abból is csak nyolc van, amikor pöszén ír, amikor a zenéről szóló résznek olyan ritmusa, dallama van, mintha az maga is zene lenne, abban lubickolni lehet.

Nem egészen értem, hogy miért Virginia Woolf a stream of consciousness, az egy átlagos nap átlagos történései közben kalandozó gondolatokból összeálló regény nagy alakja a Mrs. Dalloway című művével, amikor az három évvel később jelent meg, mint az Ulysses. Részemről azon végig nagyon szenvedtem. Itt az első fejezeten kell átvergődni, amíg kijutunk abból a szörnyű toronyból. Utána egy kifejezetten élvezhető, sokszor nagyon szórakoztató olvasmány lesz.

Nagyon élveztem a Shakespeare-elemzést, az egészen végigfutó nyelvi brillírozást (a 'lelemény' ide nagyon kevés), a humort, a játékot, az eredetiséget. Az ilyen ötletes kísérletezést akkor is díjazom, ha egyébként az eredmény számomra nem élvezhető, de ezt nagyon megszerettem.

Nem mondom, volt, amikor igencsak felszaladt a szemöldököm (lásd az abszintos tripet a bordélyban), és a paródiáknak is csak az emészthető részén tudtam jól szórakozni, de az egész, a nehezen leküzdhető és a fergeteges részekkel együtt, fantasztikus. Nem kell félni a sok oldalas mondatoktól sem, egy nő gondolja, úgyhogy (természetesen?) sokkal egyszerűbb a szöveg, mint addig bárhol.

Amikor nagyon sokan összegyűlnek egy eseményre (kivégzés), már a kitört verekedés leírása is olyan szórakoztató, mint például Rejtőnél, de a meghívott külföldi vendégek nevein kész voltam (Pokethankertscheff, Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone, stb). Vagy milyen zseniális, amikor kérdés-felelet formában bontakozik ki előttünk a történet (bajuszbögréstül)! Olyan mainak tűnő (vagy ma is érvényes) megoldásokat találtam, mint például egy eseménysor megmutatása több különböző nézőpontból egymás után (ezt filmekben pl nagyon szeretem), vagy az „It. Is. True.” hangsúlyozás. Vagy a többször és többféleképp megjelenő szex. A nő szájába adva (pardon) a legobszcénebb. Nem csoda, hogy száz (95) évvel ezelőtt betiltották.

Minden benne van. Minden, ami akkor tudható volt, amilyen írott forma létezett, ami kimondható volt, és az is, ami nem.

A formátumról: Először e-könyvben kezdtem olvasni, nem is lelkes amatőrök által készített változatot, hanem fizetőset, de végül szívesebben olvastam a nyomtatottat, a sokkal jobb tördelés és a jegyzetek miatt. Az eredeti, egészében 1922-ben megjelent szöveg volt egyébként mindkettő.

Nagyon komplex élmény volt.
Thank you, Mr. Joyce! ( )

This is my desert-island book, and I will never tire of it. ( )

Overall, I really like this oversized, illustrated edition (from Other Press). I jumped right into a re-read immediately when it arrived. I read Ulysses the first time in my 20s, far from home, with seemingly endless amounts of time on hand. I barely finished, struggled through it, and had to stop until I could find a reader's guide.

Fast forward a quarter century and I barely finished after struggling through it, again. I have developed less tolerance for 'working' through anything - if it doesn't hold my interest I am less likely to see it through.

The initial chapters were fine, I barely finished creepy old man at the beach, and skimmed the endless page after page of dialogue.

I kept going because I remembered Molly's final chapter, and it again delivered.

Leaving this in case I chose to re-read later in life, better off to just skip to the final chapter, even if you don't 'earn' it by suffering through the rest of the 700 pages.

The illustrations were wonderful. ( )