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/lit/ - Literature

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12211266 No.12211266 [Reply] [Original]

>tfw you re-discover how fucking amazing james joyce is

It keeps happening, and then i get for whatever reason disillusioned, and then after a period i come back to him and i get even more attached and amazed than last time.

What is it about Ulysses that has you missing lines and imagery all the time, only to discover them on your third or fourth re-read/attempt at one of the chapters?

A few things i discovered the last two days

Stephen and Poldy seeing the same cloud cover the sun and their thoughts instantly grow gloomy

Stephen:
>A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, shadowing the bay in deeper green.

Bloom:
>A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly. Grey. Far.

I just feelsuch an affinity with these two men it almost makes me feel like i could call them up and talk to them as friends.

Also this chunk where Stephen is looking at his student, who he thinks is ugly and unintelligent i for some reason didn't catch on previous readings of nestor:
>Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She 27had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.

>> No.12211275

overrated, faulkner is better, borges was right about this

>> No.12211287

>>12211266
> Stephen and Poldy seeing the same cloud cover the sun and their thoughts instantly grow gloomy

thats about as deep and when poldy is hungry and starts thinking in culinary metaphors and looking at the women "like a piece of meat"

the drunk pervert just tried to fit in as many ideas as he could and none of it feels natural

>> No.12211593

Joyce cannot be read, only re-read.

>> No.12211602

>>12211287
Crap, Joyce failed at feeling natural.

>> No.12212393

bump

>> No.12212405

>>12211275
About what? What did he say?

>> No.12213213

/lit makes /pol look like a bunch of refined statesman.

JJ is one of the greatest and ya'll are jealous.

>> No.12213500

>>12212405
that faulkner is better and ulysses is just a bunch of facts throw into a novel and finnegans wake is a bad joke

>> No.12213572

>>12211266
>tfw finished Ulysses
We’re all gonna make it brehs

>> No.12214236

>>12211266
>>Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She 27had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.

I am not a big fan of Joyce, but I never forgot that passage. It is not only great as poetry (and Joyce wasn’t gifted as a poet, except for some isolated – yet great – episodes), but also deeply humane. It’s the kind of thought that one sometimes experience, but that, when the time comes to write, you end up not remembering that you could use thoughts like these. I feel this impression with Tolstoy all the time.

>Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart.

Painfully touching.

>> No.12214247

>>12214236
i agree, this is one of my favorite early passages

>> No.12214272

>>12214236
Yeah you can reallt picture a woman holding the baby in her arms and looking down at him, smiling, her son. I srsly love joyce

>> No.12214298

>>12214272
is this satire

>> No.12214318

>>12211266
the line in which the sunrays filtered through leaves cast dancing coins on the teachers' shoulder is my all time favourite in lit

>> No.12214327

>>12211266
"...At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue come bursting out through your lips and if I gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside...
You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole...
I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also....
Fuck me if you can squatting in the closet, with your clothes up, grunting like a young sow doing her dung, and a big fat dirty snaking thing coming slowly out of your backside..."
—James Joyce, December 8, 1909

>> No.12214397

>>12214272
I you reallt pictured women holdin the baby in her arm and looking down at thim, smiling, his boy. I sierously love joyce

>> No.12214448

>>12214327
jj was brap posting before it was cool

>> No.12214590

>>12214448
It was never cool, fart sniffer

>> No.12214642

>>12214298
Nope

>> No.12214647

>>12214327
Haha lel XD omg wtf