As another Bloomsday* (see * to clear up any confusion) has come and gone, I feel that now is as good a time as any to make my case for why James Joyce’s Ulysses is the greatest novel ever written. That’s right, I did say greatest ever. Joyce’s Ulysses is the Mount Everest of English language literature; everyone dreams of climbing it, few actually attempt the climb, fewer still complete the climb and live to tell about it, and those that do complete the journey have earned the right to lord it over the rest of us could-have-beens and wannabes. It is a book, which has attained true mythic status in the world of literature, and it has done so on its own artistic merits, through the calculated efforts of its author, through its storied history of censorship, and through a self-generating and self-sustaining cottage industry of commentary, criticism, explanation and exaltation which has sprung from its head and taken on a life of its own. The scope of its influence on the world of creative artistic endeavor that would follow is beyond measure. The experiments, risks, and rules of formality and artistic propriety that Joyce challenged in Ulysses, changed the landscape of creation, first in the modern West, and eventually worldwide. Few novels, if any, can claim the impact of a Ulysses, and fewer still have the ability to strike fear and inspire awe in potential readers.
For Lit-heads (particularly English Lit people) Ulysses is one of those books on their ‘must read’ booklist that they know they will probably never actually read. I have meet dozens of people who have told me how much they want to read Ulysses but they’ve heard how hard it is (true), or that it isn’t actually worth the effort (patently false), or that it doesn’t have any punctuation (ridiculous). There are so many rumors surrounding the book that one could write a book, and a useful one at that, just sifting through what is fact and what is fiction concerning Ulysses. This is a novel that has developed its own cult of personality. Pretty impressive for an inanimate object.
I also have encountered those who think that the book is entirely pretentious, and incomprehensible to anyone who is not an absolute genius. These people tend to dismiss it on the grounds of literary hubris, or unnecessary elitism (is elitism ever necessary?), or on the grounds that Joyce was an arrogant A-hole. People who dismiss Ulysses can be divided into two basic groups: those who pass judgment and haven’t read the book, and those who pass judgment and have read the book. Vis-à-vis the former group there isn’t a whole lot say; to pass judgment upon that which you know nothing about except (maybe) through rumor and innuendo is, well, not worthy of wasting any more words than have been so far proffered. It’s self-evident: you obviously have no frame of reference Donny! So, there is no means of having a fruitful discussion or debate about the novel. There, you have actually gotten more comment than you deserved.
On the other hand, for those belonging to the second group more consideration must be given. To those who have completed Ulysses and still find it lacking (for whatever reason) props on making it through. You have earned the right to pass whatever judgment you want and have your opinion taken seriously. (Note, that the operative word here is completed.) That said, I would challenge some of the notions of those who accuse the novel of being inaccessible, pretentious, dull, overly difficult, or sadistic. Okay, I will concede the point on sadism, but some people are said to really like that kind of thing, so don’t judge. But, I can personally attest to the fact that the average, decently educated person can read Ulysses and derive a degree of enjoyment from it. I, for one, am a college educated (bachelors degree at the moment of this writing), non-literature (studio Art and proud of it), faux middleclass (raised in the working and lower-class Black urban environs of Cleveland, Ohio – represent, represent), guy who (if grade school report cards and this particular essay are any indication) is far from a genius, and I thoroughly enjoyed Ulysses on my first reading. Was it difficult to read? Definitely! Was it accessible? Very! Dull? Far from it! Pretentious? Pretending to be what exactly? No, of course not. It was great! Challenging but great. Upon completing Ulysses I felt exhausted and inspired as though I were Odysseus finally landing on the shores of rocky Ithaca. Yes, Ulysses is a truly great book, however...
I would not recommend this book to everyone, nor to just anyone. I think there are some preconditions that should be met before choosing to embark upon this particular novel. First you have to want to read it, for whatever reason: curiosity, pride, obstinacy, sadistic pleasure, whatever moves you, but there must be something. You must also have the ability to suspend your foolish self-delusions of brilliance. Okay, you’re a genius, we get it. But, you are not going to understand everything in Ulysses all at once. Let me repeat this: YOU ARE NOT GOING TO UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. No matter how smart your Mom, guidance counselor, and SAT scores said you were, and no matter how much information you’ve piled into that oversized brain of yours, you are not going crack the code in one reading. Greater minds than yours or mine have tried and failed. It’s not going to happen, so disavow yourself of the idea that you are going to get it in one take. Allow yourself to be humbled by someone else’s genius for once.
Finally, be willing to invest some time in the book. To really get this book more than one reading is required. Not to mention doing some supplemental research. Yeah, it’s a little like work, but its actually much more enjoyable than it sounds (how could it be less so?).
So, if you think you can meet the above criteria then I say READ THIS BOOK, and if you think not then cross it off your ‘books I must read before I die’ list and get on with your life. But, don’t diss Ulysses until you’ve given it a fair shot, and don’t blame me when you cross paths with some jackass like me going on about all the cool things to be found in Ulysses, and making it sound all interesting and sweet, and you’re sitting there thinking, ‘I should really read that book’ when in fact you should already have read the book, and then you could be that jackass prattling on and sounding all cool, like I like to think that I do when I’m holdin’ court on JJ and his masterpiece, chicks wanting me, and dudes wanting to be me. So now that I’ve totally whet your appetite for some Ulysses stay tuned for the next episode when I tell you what makes the book so GD good.
Peace and Happy (belated) Bloomsday!
*Bloomsday? What the hell is that?!
As we embark upon another June 16th let me be the first to wish you a Happy Bloomsday! Yes it’s that time of year again where we who claim membership, awarded or self-appointed, to the literary world pay homage to that most perfect pornographic perversion Ulysses, the masterwork of the one and only James Augustine Aloysius Joyce. For those of you not quite up to speed on exactly what Bloomsday is (careful you don’t get your literati membership revoked) let me give a brief explanation.
Bloomsday is a celebration of that fateful day recounted in Ulysses, June16th 1904, where two men set out on an epic journey through the streets of Dublin in a search (unbeknownst to themselves) for salvation and atonement. (It is also the day in real life that James Joyce had his first outing with his future partner and wife Nora Barnacle, and the day she “made a man of him”). The men in question are Stephen Dedalus (Joyce’s literary avatar), and Leopold Bloom (the story’s hero and namesake of this anniversary day). Bloomsday is a day of mirth and merriment, celebrated worldwide complete with reenactments of the happenings in Joyce’s epic tale, dramatic readings of the text, and of course, plenty o’ drinkinness and debutchery. In Ireland it is considered an official secular holiday as participants dress-up as their favorite characters. A trek round Dublin following the path blazed by Mr. Bloom on that fateful day is faithfully followed, many of the pubs and other local spots from the novel being either still in existence from 1904 or resurrected sometime during the rise of James Joyce from goat of Ireland to preeminent Irish hero and cult figure.
As mentioned above this is a worldwide celebration, and many major cities around the world hold some type of celebration of Bloomsday; New York, San Francisco, Seattle, Saint Paul, Melbourne, Spokane, Beijing, to name but a few. Some of these celebrations are more elaborate with daylong celebrations and a whole host of activities, while others are more low-key, with just a reading hosted in some pub or community space. Whatever the level of celebration it speaks volumes that such loyal devotion can be shown to a single novel written almost over 80 years ago. Ulysses is the only novel (as far as I have found) that has had a special day devoted to it, and is celebrated annually and globally, a true testament to the status of this book as veritable classic. Viva Joyce!
