This is supposed to be one of the great examples of literary biography. Ellmann, a specialist and editor of Joyce's unpublished works such as his correspondence or the collection of epiphanies, provides us with a methodical, complete, absolutely documented and very objective book. In it, with the precision of an entomologist, he reconstructs the "disordered" life and the literary concerns of one of the most emblematic writers among those who dedicate everything to writing. Or to writing and his family, as Ellmann closes his book. We accompany Joyce, a being convinced from the beginning of his worth and who, regardless of the obstacles and the majority disinterest, achieved two great peaks of the new literature, Ulysses and Finnegans Wake, which have already completed 100 years but are more relevant every day. In part, this great book (in both senses of the word) helps us to understand and interpret Joyce's work, although in this zeal Ellmann sometimes resembles Sterne biographing Tristram Shandy.

It is a comprehensive exploration of Joyce's life and work, delving into the details that shaped his literary genius. The book not only presents the facts but also offers insights into Joyce's creative process and the influences that surrounded him. Ellmann's meticulous research and objective approach make this biography a valuable resource for scholars and enthusiasts alike.

Through his writing, Ellmann brings Joyce to life, allowing us to see the man behind the masterpieces. We witness his struggles, his triumphs, and his unwavering dedication to his art. This biography serves as a reminder of the enduring power of literature and the impact that one writer can have on the literary landscape.

Blistering biography, a rather pitiful life. It reads like a novel, and along the way, it reinforces the belief that Joyce is hardly a role model, of course. But, as is known, the life of an artist and his work are often incompatible things. On the one hand, from what you know, from where he wrote what and whom with whom in his novels, and whom he combined with whom, you do not seem to get closer to understanding the result. On the other hand, trivia and details still give the texts a certain additional depth because the overall outline of the author is still drawn. Let's avoid spoilers and limit ourselves to the fact that in general, the life insignificance of Joyce exists in parallel / counterpoint to the grandeur of his ideas. And what is happening in Joyce's head at this time - even Ellmann (the Biographer with a capital letter, as Khodasevich calls him) does not know - he generally does not interpret the facts, does not guess and does not speculate on anything. In some places, only charming dry irony peeks through in relation to the object.

A more specific lesson: not only was Joyce such a fruit in his youth, as is well known, he also sinned to the fullest - much more unforgivable (personally for me) - in that when rhetorically criticizing other people's works, he mixed "I don't understand / I don't like" = "this is bad". It is all the more interesting in the context of this to look at the karmic retribution - equally stupid and aggressive criticism of Ulysses and Finnegans. It is interesting, did he himself realize this karmic connection? But in general, the root of a significant part of his spiritual pain in maturity is, of course, the lack of referential criticism. For the most part, either mindless flatterers or just mindless people. Exceptions only confirm.

Two very comforting thoughts (you will find them yourself):
- Why help the reader? The public still values most of all only what it can steal.
- There is nothing that could not be translated.

This is a very precious work prepared with great efforts. Thanks to this book, we can learn what we didn't know about Joyce. The quotations from Joyce's works are also carefully selected.

For its flawless translation, I would like to express my congratulations and thanks to Mr. Zafer Avşar.

This book not only provides in-depth insights into Joyce's life and works but also offers a unique perspective on his literary achievements. It is a must-read for all those who are interested in Joyce and his contributions to the world of literature.

The translator, Mr. Zafer Avşar, has done an excellent job in bringing Joyce's words to life in Turkish. His attention to detail and understanding of the original text are truly remarkable.

In conclusion, this book is a valuable addition to any literature lover's collection and I highly recommend it.

Known as the literary biography that all others aspire to, I am truly grateful for it. It has proven to the locals on the Slovene coast that Joyce's eye problems originated from a drunk incident in Piran, Slovenia - Pirano at that time - way back in 1910. In those days, it was effortless to hop on a local train and journey into Istria for the local wines. One night, Joyce got drunk and slept on the marl stone. When he woke up, he had an eye infection that never healed properly and ultimately led to his blindness. Interestingly, there is nothing in Piran to commemorate this event. As a result, Joyce tourists tend to stop in Trieste and don't venture down to the extraordinarily beautiful town of Piran, where, incidentally, there is no statue of him curled up in the piazza.
Otherwise, this is indeed the best literary biography I have ever read. It provides a detailed and captivating account of Joyce's life, shedding light on various aspects that might have otherwise remained unknown. The author's research and writing style make it a truly engaging read, and I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in Joyce or literary biographies in general.

Don't let the size of the book, which includes 67 pages of footnotes, daunt you.

This is a beautifully written account of one of the most enigmatic figures in literature. It combines precise scholarship with a straightforward narrative style, creating a model for the biographic form.

Scholars of Joyce have undoubtedly read and re-read this book. However, for those readers who are just now approaching Joyce, or for those who have been frightened by the prospect, this biography will make the introduction painless as well as pleasant.

Ellmann's biography treats every aspect of Joyce's life, including his family, friends, and the creative process that led to his masterpieces. As Ellmann remarks in his preface: "In working over these pages, I have felt all my affection for him [Joyce] renewed."

The reader of this judicious work will close the final page with the same sentiment, having gained a deeper understanding and appreciation of Joyce and his life's work.

I delved into this biography on Audible after perusing the fictionalized narrative of Joyce's wife Nora.

Not having perused either Ulysses or Finnegans Wake, I often found myself feeling like an outsider. This was because the author expends a significant amount of time connecting those volumes to Joyce's universe.

This detailed portrayal of Joyce's life is truly remarkable. The research alone justifies a five-star rating. The author's incorporation of a great deal of correspondence enhanced my comprehension of Joyce's contemporary world and his personality.

In certain aspects, he comes across as a shrewd businessman when grappling to have his later works published. He was witty, intellectual, brilliant, and arrogant.

Although I thoroughly relished this biography, at one juncture while plowing through its 800 pages, I became rather thankful that the book's subject passed away at the relatively young age of 58.

Done! At long last, done!

Jesus. I'm a fast reader, but this damn thing took me more than a month to finish. My copy is at 745 pages, but I swear it's double; long pages, small font, and my own boredom with the way this biography is written.

I'm writing a 4/5 because I don't "like" what Ellmann did with this biography of Joyce, but it's immensely impressive. I am more impressed by biographies than any other form of writing, and I mean that; the concentration and research required to write a bio utterly astounds me, and Ellmann's exceedingly confirms my astonishment.

But! This bio isn't what I (the insufferable I!) want, nor is it what you might expect.

Ellmann's Joyce biography is centered, focused, and determined as being a biography of James Joyce's work more than his life. This book tracks, over the course of (I argue) 1,490 pages, the progression of Joyce's work, where and when he wrote certain things, what inspired him to write certain things, where he rewrote and revised certain things, and, finally, where, how and when he published things.

There's also invaluable commentary concerning all of Joyce's works, which really makes me want to tick this up to a 5/5 score because I know for certain that I will, inevitably, return to this book later when I rekindle that annual interest in Ulysses and, new to me due this book's excellent criticism and thoughts, "The Dead" from Joyce's Dubliners.

It's a great book, super impressive, and surprisingly beneficial critically speaking in regards viewing and appreciating the work of Joyce.

But here's my problem---I don't give a fuck about the work of author's when I read their bio. The whole reason I'm reading the bio is, generally speaking, because I've read everything they've written (or is available), love their work and feel a close friend has died when I've finished it all, and am so lost without their stapled potential that I shack up with the bio and read about them and the lives they lived.

Ellmann, to put it frank, sucks at writing a bio for a person like me. We get single page footnotes about how Joyce used to pick fights in the 20's (when he was borderline blind!), then dash behind Hemingway and say "Get 'em, Hemingway! Get 'em!" Or when we get to how Robert McAlmon (my own personal unsung hero), drunk and bored with typesetting the last chapter of Ulysses, stopped giving a damn and started writing the sentences haphazardly and indifferently, Joyce "reacts" to this in Ellmann's bio, and that's it (save a footnote which assures us the changes were "negligible").

My problem with this is that I know these stories, much much more about those two stories above, by having read memoirs and biographies of others (notably "The Paris Years" for Hemingway, and "Being Geniuses Together" for McAlmon). So I know these stories go much further than just one single sentence, much further than a footnote, and that they're terrific fun and exciting to read about (for me, anyway) as well... unless you're Ellmann, who only mentions them (briefly! so briefly!) because they sort-of, lightly, relate to how that shaped Ulysses at some point.

There are really very few stories once you finish the first 200 pages. The book has a great intro in regards the stories of Joyce's upbringing into his adulthood because all of those stories relate to his work. It's obvious that Joyce models Portrait and Ulysses based off his earlier life, and so Ellmann makes sure to model those images and events as clearly and thoroughly as possible. And it's great and exciting and really fun to read about---But that's it for personal stories, really. Ellmann crams all 20 years Joyce lived in Paris to talking about the growth and realization of Ulysses and Finnigans Wake---- what?! That's my big problem with this book, to be perfectly clear; I'm a fucking dork about 20's Paris, and I want stories. I want to hear exactly about the drunken parties, how Joyce/everyone interacted with one another/thought about one another/did with one another, and what it all meant, felt like, to live in this carousel of imagination, support, and effort. And none of that, I assure you, is in this book.

So I am impressed by this book in every stance, but I don't actually like the thing outside of it's first 300 pages and the occasional, brief criticisms Ellmann inserts in regards each of Joyce's work.

It's academic as hell, and that's why it's great, and also why I think it's pretty shit.

Full disclosure, I skipped most of the coprophilia and iritis parts.

Coprophilia is a rather unusual and often disturbing sexual preference that involves an attraction to feces. It is a topic that many people would rather not discuss or even be aware of. Iritis, on the other hand, is an inflammation of the iris in the eye. It can cause pain, redness, and vision problems.

While these two topics may seem unrelated, they both deal with aspects of the human body and its functions that are not always pleasant or easy to talk about. Skipping over these parts may have been a personal choice, perhaps due to discomfort or a lack of interest. However, it is important to note that understanding these topics can be crucial in certain fields, such as medicine or psychology.

By choosing to skip over these parts, I may have missed out on some valuable information or insights. But at the same time, I also respect my own boundaries and limitations. Everyone has the right to decide what they are comfortable with and what they want to learn about.

In conclusion, while I skipped most of the coprophilia and iritis parts, I still believe that it is important to approach all topics with an open mind and a willingness to learn. Whether we choose to explore these areas in depth or simply acknowledge their existence, it is up to each individual to make that decision.

Of course, Marcel Proust would have frowned upon my reading this. He would have been irritated when I read his "Marcel Proust: A Life" by William C. Carter. He would have felt dismayed at the thought of yet another reader using a biography as a shaky crutch in a futile attempt to approach a writer. He might also have been troubled by anyone deluding themselves into thinking they could access his inner being, as if he hadn't tried to do that himself. At least Joyce wouldn't have minded being the center of attention. After all, when he was still relatively young, he sought a biographer to record his life.

My interests are not solely literary. I am fascinated by history, and since I have some difficulties with absolutes, I prefer to approach art works by considering them in their context. It helps me form my viewpoint or escape from it.

Moreover, to add to the relevance of these two biographies, both Joyce and Marcel Proust constructed their works from their own lives. Their lives became their works, as they were dedicated to their craft. For one, it was from an early age, and for the other, it was a late epiphany.

In this extraordinary biography of this extraordinary writer, we have Ellmann extracting the Self from the continuous representation of the Self or Selves of James Joyce. We recognize him in Steven, in Molly, in Bloom, in the Liffey... Besides commanding an overwhelming amount of data, far more than my bombarded brain could absorb, the strength of Ellmann's account lies in his nature as a literary man. And a very sharp and bookish one at that. In this account of a life, we never lose sight of Joyce's writings. As we move through the roller coaster of his financial worries, his publishing quests, his obsessive riddles, his emotional deprivations, his health issues, his anti-religious fundamentalism, his routes of exile, we are also picking up pieces of the magnificent literary puzzle. And the puzzle is not just a play on pairs of correspondences but a meditation on what language, a variety of languages, can offer. Not having read "Finnegans Wake," I will have to revisit sections of this biography if I ever embark on that work of the night in Joyce's own language.
An additional attraction of Ellmann's version is that he is eager to pursue the writers Joyce met and what he read, as well as collect his comments and views on literature. This biography then offers a rich tangle of additional literary threads that I long to untangle. No Gordian solution is envisioned.
Books, which open doors to more books and more reading, become magical objects.
Is there a better tribute to this wizard of words?
One can either contemplate Brancusi's version of James Joyce, as seen above, or read Richard Ellmann's account.
Or both.

“No matter what he did, his basic interests - his family and his writing - remained unwavering. These passions remained unchanged. The intensity of the first gave his work understanding and humanity - the intensity of the second gave his life dignity and deep dedication.”

This is a captivating biography that reveals the core of a person's being. It shows how, despite the various challenges and distractions that life may throw at us, certain things remain constant and dear. In this case, the subject's family and writing were his anchors, the things that gave his life meaning and purpose. The description of the intensities of these passions is particularly powerful, as it shows how they influenced different aspects of his life and work.

Overall, this short passage offers a glimpse into the life of an individual who was able to maintain his focus and dedication in the face of adversity, and who found fulfillment in the things that mattered most to him. It is a reminder that we too can find our own sources of inspiration and purpose, and that by staying true to them, we can lead lives that are rich and meaningful.

Here's the thing. I firmly believe that Ellmann penned the "Ellmann bio" of James Joyce specifically for Richard Ellmann. It was crafted with the academic world in mind. It wasn't written as a book meant solely for casual reading but rather as a tome to be rigorously studied.

Rating-wise, I would award it 5 stars simply for the Herculean effort of compiling all those minute details. I'd give it 4 stars for the valuable clues it provides and 3 stars for the ability to keep the reader turning the page. The true usefulness of the Ellmann bio lies in its function as a key to unlock the understanding of the man who wrote, among other things, about the longest day on record.

However, there were certain issues with this biography of James Joyce. It seemed as if there was an overabundance of information regarding Joyce's private life that I simply had no inclination or need to know. It was tediously repetitive and, for the most part, overly painful to read. I would, nevertheless, take issue with Ellmann's portrayal of James Joyce. Joyce was a proud individual who lived his life as an artist, adhering to his own rules, his self-chosen way of life, and his own personal ends. He was also fortunate to have had soft landings as there were people around to offer those much-needed lifelines.

What Ellmann presents as difficult and tragic was actually an astonishing success story. Joyce is to be lauded for坚守 his vision, especially when he knew that failure was not an option. Joyce wrote with the mindset of a master craftsman, composing with a keen ear for the musicality of his words and drawing on his incredible memory that voraciously absorbed life!

I am of the opinion that his daughter Lucia was a muse. Of course, her name was also symbolic. "Saint Lucia was a 4th-century martyr from Syracuse. She was said to have had her eyes gouged out, and thus is the patron saint of the blind." Her illness took a terrible toll on him, and vice versa.

In fact, it was precisely all these obstacles that propelled Joyce to where he desired to be. Joyce himself told us that it was "A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man." It was the life of an anguished artist! Matteus William's quote, "We mature with the damage, not with the years," is highly applicable to Joyce. He matured and rose to great heights. I've always been of the belief that the measure of a man is not determined by where he is in life but by how far he has journeyed. June 16th, Bloomsday, says it all.

Joyce was a man who had faith in luck. He remained hopeful. He was brave. He couldn't care less what others thought. He asserted his differences. It might have felt unbearably lonely were it not for Nora, his family, and his numerous friends.

What Ellmann does manage to show us is that it would have been extremely challenging to have to explain oneself as Joyce did. People would not understand. People did not understand. People could not understand. Joyce was simply too intelligent for us.

Joyce was often silent. He was melancholic, afflicted with a deep black melancholia. He was disappointed. He asks Nora, "Is there one who understands me?" (Ellmann 712) He had debilitating health problems and staggering financial difficulties, yet he possessed enormous reserves. In his silence, he heard his own answers. Joyce was a lion. He roamed wild. He could not remain in one place.

What Joyce accomplished was incredibly difficult. It's an adjective that I find myself repeating. It was exhausting. It was crazy. It was EPIC! It had to be committed to paper.

Rumi says, "If you look too closely at the form, you miss the essence." This holds true for Ellmann's biography of James Joyce. Joyce's allure lies in the fact that his love of words is shared by his readers. We are delighted to be entertained by his literary word play. We are already an enraptured audience. We do not need to know about his private life.

Reading in late-ish honor of Ulysses' centenary, I was completely captivated by Ellmann's mapping of Joyce's fiction to his life. It's not just an informative and engaging biography; it's a creative nonfiction continuation of Joyce's fiction.
Joyce starts as a capricious and rather annoying scamp but later proves his genius in his work and gains fame. However, when his gruesome eye problems, failures in writing Finnegans Wake, increasingly troubled relationship with his daughter Lucia, and finally the war all strike in the late 1930s, his story becomes tragic reading.
Ellmann's infrequent literary analysis is also excellent, like his study of \\"The Dead\\" and its connection to Joyce's warming feelings towards Ireland and his fixation on Nora's earlier lovers. His writing is also of high quality. Occasionally, the book delves into the duller aspects of literary biography, with mildly amusing anecdotes. But here's the best part:

When the mood seized him, [Joyce] might suddenly interrupt a Saturday afternoon walk on the fashionable Bahnhofstrasse by flinging his loose limbs about in a kind of spider dance. The effect was enhanced by his tight trouser-legs, wide cloak, diminutive hat, and thin cane...His favorite statue in Zurich was one for which [friend, Frank] Budgen had served Suter as a model, a huge figure on the Uraniabrucke. And often late at night, he would say to the group that included Budgen, 'Let's go and see Budgen,' and would lead them to the statue that depicted his not-too-industrious friend with a hammer and a long beard as an allegory of labor. Sometimes he would honor this idol with his spider dance, (p442-444).