I gave politics a rest yesterday as it was the day when international tributes are paid to my favourite writer and I have been re
reading chunks of his work. June 16Th.
Is a special day in Ireland and particularly in Dublin where it is referred to
as “Bloomsday” in honour of one of literature’s greatest ever literary comic
creations, the Jewish Irish everyman Leopold Bloom, hero of the great novel
“Ulysses” based on Homer’s Ulysses which would have been familiar to a young
student taught Greek classics by the Jesuits. Here it was that one of the
greatest writers who ever lived was born, some say thee greatest, the Jesuit
educated James Joyce 02/02/1832 – 13/01/1941.
He revolutionised the
novel and perplexed great English scholars with his writing and he continues to
do so today. Evidently I am not an ‘English scholar’ I am simply an ordinary
guy who developed a great love of reading when I was a child and sixty years on
I am still keen on reading although my eye sight is not as good as it once was.
In relation to Joyce I can say that in 60 years of reading I have never come
across anything quite like him, his output was not massive but it was astonishing.
He was famously proscribed in Ireland by ‘mother church’ and, fancying myself
as a young rebellious type I resolved to find a copy of his most famous work the
aforementioned “Ulysess” as soon as I could; and even then it took a few years
to lay hands on a copy, I often wonder how many copies of this great
masterpiece there were lying hidden under beds and in attics during Joyce’s
period in the wilderness. The book scandalised Ireland and other societies as
well because alongside the hero Leopold Bloom was his wife Molly who was his
equal and soul mate, she was based on Joyce’s wife Nora Barnacle, a Galway girl
and the inspiration for Molly in the book, it is not hyperbole to say that even
today Nora/Molly’s antics and her delightful candour would have been regarded
by some as scandalous, gloriously, wonderfully scandalous. She is a literary
heroine to rank with any of them and the answer to every youthful schoolboy’s imaginings.
His other great works like ‘A portrait of the artist as a
young man’ and ‘Dubliners’ a collection of short stories are dazzling and it’s
quite impossible to find a comma or full stop out of place in any of them.
Joyce however left a single blight on my life and it is called “Finnegan’s
Wake”, a book I have been reading on and off for approximately 40 years, such
is its complexity that I resolved many years ago to read it in irate chunks. He
writes this in what has become known as a “stream of consciousness” style, it
is by turns hugely rewarding and hugely frustrating, I confess that I resorted
to deception by reading other great writers books about ‘Finnegans Wake’ to no
avail, I have given up hope of ever finishing it.
Unfortunately, like it seems so many great artistes, Joyce
led large parts of his life in penury, he suffered terrible trouble with his failing
eye sight and was also beleaguered with family problems but, despite constant
advice to write less controversial books and take the easy road to fame and
fortune which was his for the asking he never compromised. He was not only a
great writer but also an inspiring man. I am off to read some more of his work
and leave politics for tomorrow.
1 comment:
I don't agree with your politics but, I am in complete agreement with your article above.
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