James Joyce

"He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. Better be careful not to get these trousers dirty for the funeral. He went in, bowing his head under the low lintel. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor window. The king was in his counting house. Nobody.

Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper turning its pages over on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it a bit. Our prize titbit. Matcham's Masterstrike. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers' club, London. Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds three. Three pounds thirteen and six.

Quietly he read, restraining himself, the first column and, yielding but resisting, began the second. Midway, his last resistance yielding, he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read, reading still patiently, that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. Hope it's not too big bring on piles again. No, just right. So. Ah! Costive one tabloid of cascara sagrada. Life might be so. It did not move or touch him but it was something quick and neat. Print anything now. Silly season. He read on, seated calm above his own rising smell. Neat certainly. Matcham often thinks of the master-stroke by which he won the laughing witch who now. Begins and ends morally. Hand in hand. Smart. He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds thirteen and six.

Might manage a sketch. By Mr and Mrs L. M. Bloom. Invent a story for some proverb which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she said dressing. Dislike dressing together. Nicked myself shaving. Biting her nether Hip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Timing her. 9.15. Did Roberts pay you yet? 9.20. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9.23. What possessed me to buy this comb? 9.24. I'm swelled after that cabbage. A speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot.

Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stocking calf. Morning after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the hours. Explain that morning hours, noon, then evening coming on, then night hours. Washing her teeth. That was the first night. Her head dancing. Her fansticks clicking. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. Why? I noticed he had a good smell off his breath dancing. No use humming then. Allude to it. Strange kind of music that last night. The mirror was in shadow. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. Peering into it. Lines in her eyes. It wouldn't pan out somehow.

Evening hours, girls in grey gauze. Night hours then black with daggers and eyemasks. Poetical idea pink, then golden, then grey, then black. Still true to life also. Day, then the night.

He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. He pulled back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom into the air."
*********
From Ulysses

I think it is one of the most beautiful pieces I've read.

Any thoughts on Ulysses, or Joyce's other works.

 

joyce is the goddamn king. it's about time someone brought him up.

that quote reads like a ... well, um ... let me think of how to phrase this ...

...

a warm enema.

and it stays in your ass all fucking night.

 

I tried Finnegans Wake once, but, damn!, that's impenetrable!

Cheers, Martin

 

The thing about Finnegans Wake is, you cannot approach it looking to make sense out of it. It isn't about that. It is about the ride, the subconscious, perception.

 

Happy Bloom's Day, to those that care.

 

Heard about that on the radio today! So, Happy Bloom's Day. Also heard a great quote from Joyce, something like, "All I ask from a reader is that he devote his life to reading my books." [paraphrase]

 

Beautiful, Mr. E., a fine selection to mark the day. I'd have chosen "Molly," but then everyone quotes "Molly." It's my favorite, but I can see where your choice is more suited to the occasion.

Irene Wilde

 

yup yup yup.

 

I have yet to get to Joyce, but definately is on my top priorities list.

 

Joyce in the news for those who care. An erotic letter to his wife fetched £240,800. Must have been one heck of a dirty letter.

I wish my name was Nora Barnacle, the wild-eyed whore. And I wish I got more dirty letters too. Or just any really.

 

True, have fun.

Oh, sporkalicious one, thanks for that tidbit. If you give me your email address, I'll send you a dirty letter.

 

I was just masturbating my brain to think of a point of discussion in regards to Mr. Joyce, but I came to the conclusion that there was probably a thread already going...even here amongst the Clive Cusslers and Dan Browns of the world! How foo-far-foo...

It seems rather inane in regards to a writer such as Joyce, but what are people's favorite works by the great man?

For my troubles, I've read 'Dubliners', most of 'Ulysses' and bits of 'Finnegans Wake'...

There's no doubt his work is that of a genius, but/and I feel its main problem/greatest aspect is it demands the reader to match the author's considerable literary and classical knowledge. Most people can gain an appreciation and understanding of 'Dubliners' without too much work, but for something like 'Ulysses' you need to be incredibly well read. I was fortunate to study Ulysses at uni, so I had the support that I needed. However, I found that despite being energized after each lecture, I could only manage a few pages at a time on my own. Considering the length and depth of 'Ulysses' this made for slow reading...

How do other people cope?

Oh...seeing as we're into Joyce quotes, I'd like to quoth this:

"rivverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend
of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to
Howth Castle and Environs."

Has an opening line ever been more poetic?

 

That was my signature when I first joined this forum.

 

What is that James Joyce crap..and what the fucks a "full wagging bub".

Did somebody say it's not about understanding it, it's all about the ride...deja vu to me telling my wife it's not about the size!!!

I prefer to understand a book given the choice...crazy but true. I mean what's the point, otherwise the author might as well call the book "A collection of my favourite words as well as some that fit together into small sentences and sound lyrical" or adversely "Here's some shit, please buy and read" - which I actually think is the working title for Dan Brown's next book.

 

Mr. Frame of David-Land...Books, like all artistic forms, are not bound to reason. Expressions by the artist - as a writer - create the lyrical story-scapes which the Joycean reader enjoyces. It ain't for everyone, but then everyone isn't everyone and everyone doesn't read Joyce every time.

 

I'll assume that is a typo and you meant "**** is." I don't know. I would have to be sober and see it in context.

I'm sorry your wife isn't accepting of you.

I'm sure you do. The point is, you and your thoughts aren't the center of the world, and there are things out there beyond your understandings; Joyce appears to be one of them.

 

I have tried on two occasions to read 'Ulysses' and have never made it past page 100. When I encounter words like 'contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality' it tends to render me a bit disheartened.

I really wanted to enjoy the book as I'd heard good things about it but all I really got from it was a sense that Joyce enjoyed rubbing people's noses in the fact that he was too profound for most people to understand.

I've got a copy of 'The Dubliners' but I'm quite put off reading Joyce now. I may pick it up one day when I've run out anything else to read but until then I don't think I'll bother.

 

Dorian, take 'Dubliners' out of wherever you buried it. You will find nothing daunting there.

 

Really? OK. I'll read it when I've finished 'Sense and Sensibility'. I will come crying to you if I get a headache though!

 

You won't get a headache with that. I haven't made it to Ulysses or Finnegan's Wake either, but I mean to read them some day.