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I managed to get 259 pages or so into James Joyce's Ulysses before the stylistic and verbal experimentation began to go over the top, but I slogged on through pages I could only semi-understand before hitting a near brick wall with the 100 page Q & A sequence when Bloom invites a drunk Stephen back to his parlour. Then the glorious finale of Molly Bloom's interior monologue/stream-of-conciousness made it all seem worthwhile, the finest and funniest writing of the 20th century, like a reward from Joyce to those who managed to get that far. Anyone else make the effort to get to the end of Ulysses (for pleasure, not part of some academic chore which would kill the book dead IMO) ? |
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