First, let's talk about the sense of haste. This book, "Ulysses," is an absolute page-turner. Forget about Stephen King. Joyce is the one you should be reading in bed, feverishly flipping through the pages with your tongue and fingers, eager to discover what seminal modernist techniques he invents, masters, inverts, and twists like a circus freak with a whirligig in his head.

The first five episodes set the pace perfectly, preparing the reader for the all-singing, all-dancing feats of outrageous showboating that follow in the remaining thirteen chapters. Each chapter adds a few more Jenga blocks to the ones that came before, challenging the reader and keeping them on their toes. Look, Joyce loves his reader! He's the most unpatronizing author this side of L.L. Cool J. Joyce believes in you. He believes that everyone has the capacity within them to crack his mind-boggling Enigma code. And if that isn't a heartwarming Sunday school moral, what is?

So what if Joyce was wrong and every reader would need "The New Bloomsday Book" just to scratch the surface of this amorphous, expanding superbrain of a book? "Ulysses" is an infinite novel. Unlike "Finnegans Wake," where every attempt at some semblance of lucidity and meaning falls flat - the book like a distant satellite fated to drift forever in space - "Ulysses" is an infinitely re-readable supernova of emotional and intellectual replenishment. It's pure aesthetic pleasure. Everything that followed "Ulysses" expanded, plundered, and rehashed it. It was the end and beginning of literature. If you like any books at all, anything post-"Ulysses," you're an ideal candidate to read "Ulysses." It will break your heart and your brain. End of story.

Good books should engage in a "conversation" with one another and with us when we read them.

I made the error of inviting Joyce - through Ulysses - to join my literary dialogue. He is not much of a conversationalist. Mostly, he just sat in a corner, mumbling incoherently to himself. Every now and then, he would quote - or attempt to mock - something he had read somewhere, but that's not really a conversation, is it? More like name-dropping.

Hidden within Joyce's verbosity is a plot related to a day in the life of Leopold Bloom. He is the husband of Molly, the father of Milly - who is away at photography school - and Rudy - the namesake of Poldy's father - whose death at eleven days old strained the marriage beyond repair but left the sexual obsessions of Poldy and Molly intact. This leads to scenes such as Leopold masturbating on the beach while flirting from a distance with Gerty MacDowell or Molly masturbating as she daydreams about past, present, and future lovers, including Stephen Dedalus, who is seen by both Leopold and Molly as a substitute for poor Rudy - albeit in very different ways. How about that? I can write at least as well as James Joyce.

Reading Ulysses is similar to reading a very long list of spelling words... many of them without spaces between them. I have come to the conclusion that stream of consciousness writing exists in two forms. In one form, authors like Thomas Pynchon and Virginia Woolf use real - albeit often strange - sentences to depict the thought processes of their characters. The second form - exemplified by James Joyce and William Faulkner - involves simply stringing together unrelated words, perhaps with the intention of revealing the depth of the psychosis of their characters. I much prefer the former method.

I read this in college, first as an English major and then as a grad student.

Sure, I must have read it 3 times before I finally understood what was going on. And OK, I had to come equipped with piles of secondary sources such as annotations, plot guides, and books of critical essays.

BUT once I appreciated it, I was truly blown away by Joyce's erudition and skill.

To give you a flavor of the work, there's a whole chapter where two men are waiting for one man's wife to give birth. They're just talking, in a rather strange way. But as they talk, the language changes. And you realize you're witnessing the birth of the English language itself.

It starts in Old English, as I recall, and goes through all the various stages of the language including Middle English, Latinate English, Elizabethan, 18th century, 19th century, and modern. And it ends in Irish pub slang, as if that's the culmination of all those centuries of linguistic development.

It's just brilliantly done, showing Joyce's remarkable ability to play with language and create a unique and captivating literary experience.

Evet sonunda 23 günlük yolculuğumu tamamladım. I thought I would never be able to read Ulysses again, which I started in my 20s and put down after 50 - 60 pages. I'm very happy that I was wrong in my thinking. I feel elated (!).

Let me make a short comment for those who will be eager to read all of it. Ulysses is the most amazing one among all the novels I have read so far. It is very well designed and very well written. Although it has a lot of local elements, it is also just as universal and it is necessary to go back and look at it several times to fully penetrate its spirit. As you will understand from the texts that do not end even when you finish it. I'm not sure if such a novel can be written again. Those who want to read should make their preparations (read "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man"; if possible, also read "The Odyssey" or at least have an idea about its structure - I did this -) and also take guide books with them (the indispensable "The Bloomsday Book" - Harry Blamires + "Ulysses Dictionary" - Nevzat Erkmen) and enter.

Returning to the novel, first of all, I want to talk about these two issues. First, don't be afraid, Ulysses is not difficult to read. On the contrary, it is surprisingly easy to read. As I said, I read it with two helper books. Even if I hadn't read it with them, I could have easily read the first layer of the story, but I couldn't catch the details and allusions. Because the world of Ulysses is full of both too many Irish and the Odyssey. No matter how much you know, it is still possible that something will be missing. Therefore, my advice is to read it definitely with the help of guide books. The second issue is that Ulysses is not really a book that is finished as it is said. That is, the reading part ends, but it continues to turn in the mind and live. Exactly for this reason, it is necessary to open it and read it again from time to time and let oneself go with the rhythm of the text. While doing this, it is necessary to let oneself be carried away by the flow of the daily without trying to understand everything and without the eagerness to catch all the details. (I would find the readers who have a passionate connection with Ulysses a bit strange, but I started to understand. If you want to stick your mind to something, okay, it can be Ulysses.)

When it comes to the text, James Joyce, with this huge work, is not only telling a story but also pushing the boundaries of literature and demanding a deep connection with the reader. Without this connection, it is very difficult to be captivated by the magic of the text. I said it is easy to read, but getting "really" into the book requires an effort on its own. Until you get used to its rhythm, you are constantly struggling both with the text and with yourself. There were times when I got lost, got very bored, felt like I was going to burst with discomfort, and lost my focus, but you have to persevere. Because once you get used to it - or at least when you surrender to Joyce's world - what appears in front of you is a fascinating text that shows how limitless language and literature can be. (And some parts where daily life is described are also surprisingly comical. Ulysses and comedy, come and be amazed!)

We are watching a day spent in Dublin with the mental and physical journeys of seemingly ordinary characters. But what James Joyce is doing is not telling this story in a familiar way, on the contrary, it is radically changing how we can experience a narrative. From monologues to parodies, from mythological allusions to language games (and the essence lies here, by the way), each section appears in front of the reader with a different structure and form. Is this a novel, a manifesto, an experiment on language, or a mental atlas? It is difficult to decide. While constructing the text layer by layer, Joyce is constantly pulling the reader into a questioning: Where does the story start, where does it end? From whose eyes are we reading? Is it the chaos of our minds or the world itself? There are no clear answers to these questions and perhaps for this reason, Ulysses is more like a challenge full of questions rather than a novel. Moreover, while it is full of allusions on the one hand, it contains everything there is about daily life on the other hand.

Ulysses is a work that transforms the reader after it is read once. Because it is not only a reading but also a completely new way of perception at the same time. On the one hand, it is challenging, on the other hand, it is incredibly rewarding. It is also very inviting in a way. For example, now I'm very curious about English. I'm imagining how it would be to read those sound games, word games from the original. I will definitely read at least some parts of it in English from time to time. I can't tell anyone "you must read it" because it requires the right time and the right context for every reader. But if you embark on this difficult journey one day, the reward you get will be unforgettable.

After a year and a half, I finally finished "Ulysses" by James Joyce, one of the worst and most boring books I have ever read in my entire life.

James Joyce exaggerates everything. In the lists, in the jokes, in the stream of consciousness, in the convolutions to fill one day in the life of Bloom.

Since one has to fill more than a thousand pages in a 24-hour space, you can imagine the convolution, the drivel, the boredom that the text becomes, where you clearly perceive that the text is deliberately dragged just to fill the paper.

I was only able to understand 1 percent of the book thanks to a parallel book that I was reading, which tries to explain "Ulysses" in a way that one can understand as much as possible of this indigestible book. The book mentioned is by the translator of "Ulysses", "Yes, I Say Yes: A Guided Tour of James Joyce's Ulysses", by Caetano Waldrigues Galindo. The little that I understood was thanks to this book.

Full of symbolism and literary styles, reading "Ulysses" is a sacrifice. Reading is supposed to be for pleasure, but with "Ulysses" you only have regrets for the lost time. However, one remains firm in the reading like self-flagellation, for the sins committed by us, beings both good and bad.

Don't waste time reading it, as unfortunately I did. Time is precious and one second is enough to change everything for a lifetime.

This book has truly been an eye-opening experience for me. It has just reaffirmed the fact that white men can be praised for doing the absolute bare minimum and still be labeled as a genius. Technically speaking, I only managed to read the first 10% of this book, and then the chapters "Calypso," "Penelope," and "Nausicaa." But I'm counting those as a win considering the psychological trauma this has caused me.

[Edited: I just came across some other low reviews of this book and I'm cackling. One person actually dropped their copy in the toilet and didn't bother to finish it. Another person very aptly suggested that life is just too short to waste on reading "Ulysses," and I wholeheartedly concur. And reading the comments of white men who are offended by people's dislike of this book is just delicious. It's almost comical how they seem to be so defensive about a book that clearly doesn't resonate with a large number of readers.]

As a bloke with an English degree, I guess I'm supposed to extol all things Joycian and gladly turn myself over to the Church of Joyce. After all, that's what English grads do, right? We revel in our snobbery and gloat about having read 'Gravity's Rainbow' and 'Ulysses' from start to finish.

Well, I may be in the minority when I say I didn't care for this book at all. I understand that it's a complex book with innumerable references to Greek mythology, heavy allegories, dense poetry, wacky structures, and to some, it serves as a sort of mental masturbation. However, I think it's also pretty unreadable. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I believe books should be accessible and readable. This is something John Steinbeck understood very well. He most definitely wrote for the masses and the 'every man,' and it shows in his work. I prefer books that use simple language to expound on profound truths, rather than a book that requires me to constantly refer to other sources to help me understand what I've just read. Of course, this is just my opinion and should be taken as nothing more.

I'm hesitant to say that anyone who gives this book 'five stars' does so because 'Ulysses' carries such a cachet among the academic elite and intelligentsia, but I think most of them probably do. Sure, that's unfair, but I'm really kind of wondering how anyone ever finished it. It's a bit of a bore, linguistical acrobatics or not.

If you do decide to read it, definitely get a copy with Judge John M. Woolsey's treatise on lifting the ban on 'Ulysses.' It's a remarkable piece of writing and displays the judge's thoughtfulness, eloquence, and fair-mindedness. It's the standard by which all judicial opinions should be judged [no pun intended!].

Maybe you'll read 'Ulysses,' maybe you won't. If you do and you don't care for it, that's okay. Being a great reader doesn't mean you have to toe the critical line.

Whenever I dip into Ulysses, I'm filled with a sense of wonder as to why I'm not constantly immersed in its pages. Shakespeare is the only other writer who has this effect on me. My initial reading was perhaps the most intoxicating literary experience of my life.

The cantankerous professor in my freshman year Russian Lit survey, after comparing the narrator of Babel's Red Cavalry to Leopold Bloom, taunted us with something like: "but who of you know who Leopold Bloom is?" Challenged by this, I embarked on a reading journey that would last about 3 months, with Nabokov's lecture and Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (and later, Gifford's Annotations to Ulysses) by my side for assistance. I'll always associate the first three episodes with the hum of the dorm basement driers. Come to think of it, I also associate The Master and Margarita and The Defense with that laundry room.

In my senior year, I dedicated two months of luxurious attention to Ulysses in a class whose syllabus also included Lolita and Herzog, making it the most enjoyable fiction class imaginable. I return to it occasionally, to re-read my favorite episodes like "Hades," "The Wandering Rocks," and "Nausicaa," but I know I need to do a full reading again.

Some things I cherish: Mrs. Daedalus's "tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk." The description of the young man moving slowly frogwise with his green legs in the deep jelly of the water. Stephen's and Dilly's exchange at the bookcarts. Bloom's thoughts during Digman's funeral. The Man in The Macintosh. And the part in Nighttown when the Nymph whose image Bloom had torn from a picture magazine comes alive and thanks him for rescuing her from the vile company of advertisements and cheap stories.

These are just a few of the many treasures that Ulysses holds, waiting to be discovered and rediscovered with each reading.

I thought that if I tried to read Joyce in the group, it might be easier to create such a difficult work with the support of the community. The group was really great, but despite the help of everyone, I still couldn't finish the book and nervously gave up on page 400. This was already my second attempt with Ulysses. The first time, around the age of 20, I only got to chapter 3, that is, page 57. In this regard, it can be regarded as a success, but after a month of torture, I came to the conclusion: My life is too short, I am not an intellectual masochist, and there are too many other exciting books with real consistency and not just a verbal facade, rather than wasting my life with this work.

What I personally dislike most about the book is the excessive craftsmanship of the language (each chapter has a completely different language structure) while at the same time about 80% of the content is unimportant (who is talking to whom or about whom, what is eaten, which street......). I don't like this combination at all because I always have the feeling that the admittedly brilliant wordsmith wants to deceive me and cover up with his difficult art that he has little to say in terms of content. If I want to solve puzzles, I do a 3D puzzle or solve a difficult Sudoku - books must tell relevant stories for me - otherwise they annoy me, especially if the author can really write.

I have never accepted this from contemporary authors, so why should I tolerate it from a classic.

Often I suspect anyway that such works hardly please anyone, they only satisfy one's own intellectual vanity of having created "such a difficult work".

Ulysses is a remarkable work that has endured through the ages. Reading it so long after its initial publication, it's difficult to fathom the impact it had on first-time readers in 1922-23. It was likely a revolutionary and polarizing book, with classicists perhaps being appalled by Joyce's hubris in rewriting Homer. The novel is filled with rich subtext, yet remains surprisingly readable. It may be the first scalable modern novel, ensuring ever more rewarding subsequent readings.

The various chapters offer a diverse range of experiences. The Hades/Graveyard section makes one consider the enormity of death, while the Wandering Rocks chapter parades the entire cast past the reader. The book can also be read as an indictment of Irish Anti-Semitism, and Joyce's penchant for puns, while sometimes annoying, adds to the overall complexity of the work.

The "Oxen of the Sun" chapter is a tour de force of language, with its parodies of different narrative styles. The Brothel chapter is both funny and long, with a mysterious sex-reversal hallucination. And finally, Molly's soliloquy is a powerful and memorable conclusion to this epic novel.

Overall, Ulysses is a masterpiece that continues to captivate and challenge readers today.

What I've discovered about myself from reading Ulysses:

1. I am good for only one "major" read in a year. I had set out wanting to read this and Proust this year. Alas, I was only able to make it through Ulysses. It seems that my reading capacity has its limits, and this year, Ulysses took up all my major reading efforts.

2. It's okay to have another along to help you out the first time through. In this case, it was Blamire's The New Bloomsday Book. Having a guidebook like this can be extremely beneficial when dealing with a complex and challenging work like Ulysses. It provides additional insights and explanations that can enhance the reading experience.

3. I realize that Joyce was, indeed, a literary genius. I can see why some writers would quit writing after reading Ulysses, as he is a master of the written word. His flitting from voice to voice and style to style without losing the narrative is proof enough. However, there are also moments of tedium, some of them many pages long, that rival and exceed even the great Moby Dick for sheer boredom. Joyce's writing is a double-edged sword, with its moments of brilliance and moments of monotony.

4. I realize that Joyce plays domestic angst in an excruciatingly understated way. He creates excellent tension by what he does not say, as much as by what he does say. This understated approach adds depth and complexity to the characters and their relationships, making the reader more invested in their stories.

5. The funeral/underworld scene is an astounding piece of work. I felt sadness, pity, annoyance, and laughed aloud, all at once. Such a mixing bowl of emotions in that section. My innards are all tumbled around after that, like I don't know which way is, emotionally speaking, up. This scene is a testament to Joyce's ability to evoke a wide range of emotions in the reader, and it showcases his mastery of the art of storytelling.

6. Anyone who coins the acronym "K.M.R.I.A" deserves a statue. Or did he coin the term? Either way, he inspired The Pogues to use it in a song, which deserves a statue in its own way. The use of this acronym adds an element of mystery and intrigue to the story, and it has become a memorable part of Ulysses.

7. Jest on. Know thyself. may be all you need to know about Joyce and the notion of fiction as autobiography. This simple phrase encapsulates Joyce's approach to writing, as he often uses his own life experiences and emotions as inspiration for his fictional works.

8. I love the "sirens" section, with its sing-song rich voice, which feels like it was written in the shadow of Finnegan's Wake. It's one of my favorite places to be a brain. The "sirens" section is a beautiful and enchanting part of Ulysses, with its musical language and vivid imagery. It transports the reader to a different world and allows them to experience the story in a unique and immersive way.

9. I need to read all of Finnegan's Wake. After reading Ulysses, I am intrigued by Joyce's other major work, Finnegan's Wake. I feel that there is still much to discover and explore in Joyce's writing, and I am eager to continue my journey through his literary universe.

10. "-Tis a custom more honored in the breach than in the observance." may be the most clever pun I've ever heard. Ever. This pun is a prime example of Joyce's wit and wordplay, and it adds a touch of humor and lightness to the otherwise complex and serious story.

11. I love the sections where Joyce is seemingly channeling Lovecraft, then Dunsany, then Wavy Gravy. Joyce's ability to incorporate different literary styles and influences into his own work is truly remarkable. It shows his versatility as a writer and his willingness to experiment and push the boundaries of traditional storytelling.

12. The sentence: "The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit." may be one of my favorite sentences of all time. This sentence is a beautiful and evocative piece of writing, with its vivid description of the night sky. It captures the essence of Joyce's writing, which is both poetic and profound.

13. Good golly, Miss Molly!

14. I am lost and found somewhere betwixt Dedalus and Bloom, yet unbounded by one, the other, or both, inside their circle, outside their confines, them, yet me. Joyce's words, Dedalus' and Bloom's actions, my brain, my past, my hopes, my frustrations, my feelings. This statement reflects the reader's experience of being immersed in the world of Ulysses, and the sense of connection and disconnection that one feels with the characters and the story.

15. Yes. Yes.

O My Blooming Mollies

I am truly unqualified to offer a comprehensive review of this literary behemoth, Ulysses. However, it would be a great oversight on my part if I did not, with my jaw still firmly dropped, mention the last 65 pages, which are affectionately known as "Molly Bloom's Soliloquy."

A more fitting title, perhaps, might be \\n  \\"Cock and Awe\\"\\n. I had no inkling of what was about to unfold, so to speak. For example, consider these excerpts:

\\n  \\"some kind of a thick crowbar standing all the time he must have eaten oysters I think a few dozen he was in great singing voice no I never in all my life felt anyone had one the size of that to make you feel full up he must have eaten a whole sheep\\"

\\"I liked him like that moaning I made him blush a little when I got over him that way when I unbuttoned him and took his out and drew back the skin it had a kind of eye in it\\"

\\"I often felt I wanted to kiss him all over also his lovely young cock there so simple I wouldnt mind taking him in my mouth if nobody was looking as if it was asking you to suck it so clean and white he looks with his boyish face I would too in 1/2 a minute even if some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men\\"\\n

These passages are both shocking and fascinating, revealing a side of Molly Bloom that is both bold and unapologetic. They offer a unique perspective on female sexuality and desire, and challenge the traditional norms and expectations of the time. Overall, while I may not be able to fully understand or appreciate all of the nuances of Ulysses, I can't deny the power and impact of "Molly Bloom's Soliloquy."