This was difficult for obvious reasons, yet at the same time it has to be so: the structure of the text slips away from you, and only by fragments of individual episodes can you put together for yourself the history of the family and the relationships between the members of this family.

The built-in Google Books translator has never saved me as much as it did this time. I imagine how someone in the times of Joyce tries to read this book with inclusions of various unknown Irish or English words, grabs dictionaries, flips through them in search of the right word, underlines with a pencil and finally throws the book away, thinking that they have seen the same thing, but with a more vivid plot, in "Ulysses".

If this imagined reader in the times of Joyce existed, I accuse them in advance of not knowing what they are doing by throwing away this book. So far I have not seen anything that so coolly conveys the uncontrollability of the content of the book to the reader, its unique distorted reality, which you can enrich with fragments and as if feel that you have grasped a conscious dream and are controlling everything, as you are again thrown into a stream of images in which you almost drown.

This is a book that I will reread as soon as I have time, and I'm not sure that I will ever be able to completely put it together into a single picture, because the very essence of the book lies in the absence of that single picture.

At present, this is not a contender for the best book read in 2023, but definitely a laureate outside the nominations, because how can you compare this with something.

Readers of this book, or rather listeners as one must follow the story as if in the dark, using one's ears instead of eyes as in daylight, are in for a treat. I've never read a more satisfying work of fiction. Joyce's language is complex and multi-layered. For example, when he says 'addle liddle', it refers to three things: 'ate a little' based on sound, a hint of entering through the looking glass as Alice Liddle is the real name of Alice from the looking glass, and a reference to Anna Livey as AL often refers to her, and she seems to be the most interesting character.

HCE may have masturbated, urinated in public, exposed himself, or done something else or nothing at all. He doesn't like what the press has said and thinks it's similar to the 'divine Comic Denti Alligator'. Joyce connects concepts like 'Daunty, Gouty and Shopkeeper' (Dante, Goethe and Shakespeare) through their appeal to our feelings and also connects them to other concepts in the book. He doesn't hold back on name-dropping great thinkers from the past, especially scholastics and theologians, and their mentions often mean more than what's initially apparent.

Giambattista Vico gives four ages for man: the giants, the divine, heroic (Homeric), and his current vulgar age (1750), especially after Descartes. Vico believes the vulgar age will return to the divine age, which is why the last sentence of the Wake feeds back into the first. Giordano Bruno, who appears frequently with Vico in the story, believes Hermes had access to original truth and that all copies are inferior to the original. Vico also thinks in order to understand history properly, we must do so within its own terms, not just from our present perspective.

According to the Greeks, our understanding comes from Logos, Pathos, or Mythos. When our space, time and causation are taken away, like in a dream or the dark, we only have Logos, the abstract. Our usual grasp of the concrete through Pathos and Mythos is lost. Avicenna's floating man would conceptualize abstractly and have no concrete experiences. This book is written as if by Avicenna's floating man. At night, we see with our ears. Our thoughts are not isolated; a word's meaning depends on the whole sentence. In the dark, ideas are isolated until connected through concepts. The stream of consciousness dialog in this book is how we develop our thoughts. It's a rare fiction book that brings me closer to understanding my own thoughts.

'Finnegans Wake' is a truly unique book. It can be likened to a wife, lover, or partner. Just as with a long-term partner, no matter how much time you spend with her and how well you think you know her, in reality, you can never fully know or understand her. The same holds true for the 'Wake'.

Like a long-term partner, the more time and effort you invest in her, the greater your understanding will be. However, unlike a partner, there are numerous books that can assist you in better understanding the 'Wake. But in truth, you are far better off approaching it on your own, with as few preconceived ideas as possible, and simply forging ahead. At times, you may understand nothing of what is written, perhaps even doubting what you see and wondering if you're going mad in extreme cases. Nevertheless, you will recognize certain things, and gradually, you will start to make sense of what is being said. Much of it is beautiful to the ear and was intended to be read aloud. As a taster, seek out the recording of Joyce reading from the 'Anna Livia Plurabelle' chapter.

Joyce dedicated almost 17 years of his life to writing it, despite undergoing a series of eye operations during much of that time. This work was very dear to his heart.

Just like that ideal partner, you could spend your entire life with the 'Wake and never grow bored. With each reading, you will learn something new, and a new joyous discovery will be revealed to you. There are vast worlds of knowledge that you can choose to explore, and the novel (a subject of debate in itself - not everyone agrees it is a novel) can serve as a stepping stone to a lifetime of investigation and learning.

I have been reading the 'Wake off and on since the 1980s (I can no longer recall when this relationship began). This is only the second time I've read it cover to cover. The first time took me a year, and this time less than 6 months (I could have read it faster, but I was reading other books simultaneously!). The most enjoyable aspect this time around (and the first time I read the 'Restored' edition - another debate in itself) was how much more I understood, which even surprised me.

Soon, I will continue my journey (the book has no beginning or end) once I finish reading a pile of books I have in progress. The next time (undecided yet whether I'll return to the original edition or stick with the 'Restored' one), I plan to read extensively about each chapter before reading it. My hope is that by reading in this way, my knowledge and understanding will increase, and so will my enjoyment! However, this will significantly slow down my progress - there are probably more words written about 'Finnegans Wake' than about almost any other book, perhaps excepting the Bible and Shakespeare, and more books and theses continue to be published.

If all this sounds like too much hard work, don't be deterred! The rewards far outweigh the effort. Just set aside your inhibitions and immerse yourself in the book wholeheartedly. It is a relationship you'll never tire of. Once you have committed yourself to the 'Wake, no other book will ever come close.

(N.B. The use of the pronoun 'her' is for convenience - any gender or alignment that suits you is fine.)

Love it or hate it, Joyce is often regarded as either a genius or a jackass, falling into all of the standard divisions.

However, I just give credit where credit's due.

Books are, by their very nature, meant to be read. But here we have a book that is essentially unreadable, yet not for the typical reasons.

One could easily envision a more linear, less obfuscatory retelling of the same basic story. After all, it seems like a straightforward enough concept.

But the question remains: would it be a better book? Somehow, I seriously doubt it.

There is something about Joyce's unique style and approach that adds a depth and complexity to the work that might be lost in a more conventional retelling.

Perhaps it is this very difficulty that forces the reader to engage more deeply with the text, to grapple with its ideas and themes in a way that a simpler book might not require.

So, while Joyce's work may not be for everyone, it is undeniable that he has made a significant contribution to the world of literature.

And for that, he deserves our respect and admiration.

The Slalom of Joyledge

How to scale down this Beschova finntail?

This filletov beginnings that sings of all endings,
This pest of a pal in jest
And bad cess to you, Joyking
For the reeding is tufftuff
And the prize is the laffing
Tho low in the belly
It soars with the learning
Of finnglish and jinglish
Pigeon linguish and djoytisch

Ten stories tall
And twenty the deepings
Some to the writeoff
And Moore to the leftings
Finn’s houseful of hawsers
And hods and their spilling
Give Humpty his tallwall
And role in all fallings
Atomnal, Printernal
Summerian, Hibernial

Story forth into bygones
O Joyking of spieling
Ewe raddle us with riddles
Till we’re red in the blushers
Veins vulging in temples
And grey matter smarting
We reed in the rushes
Of joycfull mehinding
Seepon, seepunder,
pong of pondyman

Thru hart strings and wordlings
And lingo lang twanging
Ewe bleat all the sorrel
Of wars evel waging
In valleys, on hillsides
In shore water rising
Tho miss chiefs and piss takes
Give rest from sorratelling
spoofon, spoofonder,
sham of shemyman.

Futurepresent pastperfect
As the river at her rising
The trees bend to bog
From the turf seeds fresh reedlings
Men breed new wars
As old wars reseeding
Bodies for battles
Procreation creating
Weepon, weeponder,
Song of sorrowman

Atom, Eve and their childer
The first family feuding
Cain abling his sister
Edem for all triblings
In cest and in jest
The story ewer spouring
By yon labious banks
And by perchypole sarding
thru noughty times ever
And foriver insemenating

O Batterfull of codlogicals
O Senchus Mór pranKing
Exagminating yore glosses
Yore musikers and blarneying
French rhymes, Moore's chimes
Jack's house ever building
Alicetella's fun essay
Swift Sternley past teaching
Reminding this scribbler
To finnish vociferating
Now's nunc or nimmer!

The Slalom of Joyledge is a complex and mysterious piece of writing. It seems to take us on a journey through various languages, cultures, and times. The description of the Beschova finntail and the filletov beginnings that sing of all endings create an air of enigma. The mention of different types of languages like finnglish, jinglish, pigeon linguish, and djoytisch adds to the diversity and confusion. The story of the first family feuding between Atom, Eve, and their childer Cain and Edem gives a hint of the conflicts and rivalries that have existed since the beginning of time. The references to French rhymes, Moore's chimes, and Jack's house ever building show the influence of different literary and cultural traditions. Overall, this piece of writing is a fascinating exploration of language, history, and human nature.

Finnegan's Wake is a truly unique literary work that defies the traditional way I write reviews. Instead, I will present a list of bullet point thoughts that came to me while reading and after finishing the book.

- Firstly, it's evident that this book will have a significant impact on some readers due to its classic cultural status and relevancy. My two-star rating might seem controversial or cause some to claim that I simply don't understand it. And perhaps they're right; I didn't fully grasp the book, but I don't intend to offend its fans. This review is based solely on my personal experience.

- The book is extremely difficult to read. As I updated my status throughout the process, it became clear that I was struggling to make sense of the text.

- I read every word, yet understood very few. The language is complex, convoluted, and filled with made-up words and phrases.

- On page 614, I finally found some fully cohesive and meaningful sentences. I was so surprised that I did a double take! The lines "What has gone? How it ends? Begin to forget it. It will remember itself from every sides[sic], with all gestures, in each our word. Today’s truth, tomorrow’s trend. Forget, remember!" stood out to me.

- Occasionally, some parts of the book would seem to make sense, but when I looked for context in the surrounding sentences, I couldn't find any.

- My auto-correct and spell check were constantly at odds with me as I tried to quote the actual words from the book. I had to tell it to ignore autocorrect almost every time, and now I get some rather strange suggestions when typing.

- I have the impression that if I were more familiar with Irish dialects, I might have understood certain parts of the book better.

- You might wonder why I didn't give it one star. Well, there are two reasons. Firstly, I'm impressed that Joyce managed to convince a publisher to print this book. Secondly, I'm in awe of the dedication he put into creating something that, at least to him, made sense.

- I can't imagine what the editors thought when they first saw this manuscript. I also wonder about the challenges involved in printing or transcribing it into a new format.

- If I were to submit this exact same manuscript for publication, I'm certain I would be laughed out of the publisher's office.

- There is an audiobook version of Finnegan's Wake, but I'm not sure how that's even possible given the complexity of the text.

- At first, I tried to read online study guides alongside my progress. However, nothing in the guides seemed familiar, as if I was reading a completely different story.

- I do plan to do some follow-up research to try and understand "why" this book exists and to make some sense of it.

- Part of me suspects that this was a big joke by Joyce, as if he was saying, "I bet I can give them this load of nonsense and they will publish it!"

- I would only recommend this book to those who are on a mission to complete a must-read list or simply want to be able to say, "I READ ALL OF FINNEGAN’S WAKE!" I find myself in both of these categories.

It was in the final stretch of reading this particular book, of all the books out there, when I received the classic "hey whatcha reading there?" query. I responded with, "uh, it's Finnegans Wake." "Finnegan's Wake huh?" came the reply. "Yeah, it's about Dublin and the river that flows through it." Reflecting on it later, I was astonished at how such a seemingly simple and evasive answer could also be such a concise explanation.

The novel is centered around the image of the land (husband) rising up and the river (wife) flowing through and dividing it in half (their twins), which, like many other motifs in the book, serves as a universal metaphor and form of personification that informs each other. Every metaphor in this novel is dual, with each being a symbolic form that impacts the other. For instance, there's the image of thousands of salmon swimming upstream, which is clearly a sex metaphor in one sense (sperm in the woman), but at the same time, the connection with sex and the beginning of life redefines the original image as life forces in the stream, where upriver is the source of all life. All these ideas contribute to these transformations, sometimes several at a time, and always in a flowing, cyclical motion. This is intentional, as the novel is structured around repeating cycles and the patterns that follow (Finnegan dies, Finnegan wakes), and it's not hard to see how Joseph Campbell would have taken notice. So, even though saying "It's about Dublin and the river that flows through it" oversimplifies the疯狂的散文实验 that Finnegans Wake is famous for, it actually conveys a lot more when considering the number of ideas packed into that one image.

As for that疯狂的散文实验, I went into it thinking that the first page of prose that everyone reads and associates with the book might not be representative of the whole, thus giving people the wrong impression. But no, not at all. Aside from using stylistic variations and having some sections that are clearer than others, the whole book pretty much reads the way it does on the first page. The prose is an experiment in phonetics and the way we use language to represent different things, exploring some of the same ground that Gertrude Stein did from a different angle. It works, on a micro-linguistic level, in the same way as the back-and-forth metaphors. It's overwhelming, but in a way I haven't felt since I first picked up Ulysses seven years ago, with that mix of awe, intrigue, and being lost while also having a sense that I don't yet know how to use. There are levels of the text that are easy to identify: the larger themes are fairly ubiquitous and easy to spot, there's an overall sense of where in the story and the progression of characters it's supposed to be (which you may or may not need chapter summaries for), and then there's the immediate wordplay where you're constantly identifying combinations that are clever, witty, or connect well to the levels above. The most confusion lies in the space between the sentences, where it may or may not be clear how everything connects. While this creates a sense of disorientation, it also produces some really ambiguous impressions where you'll be reading and getting images from the text without it being immediately obvious where they're coming from. Another major idea of the novel is that it's the "night" novel, the novel of dreams, and while "dreamlike prose" is a tired cliché, in Finnegans Wake, that's almost literally the effect of reading it. So, it's entirely understandable if, perhaps, your first time reading Finnegans Wake you don't understand everything, as it's part of the novel's aesthetic, similar to how Pynchon's novels get you into the heads of his paranoid characters by the various ways he makes his own novels overwhelming.

The prose, then, is yet another vehicle for the same morphing, cyclical, and far-reaching ideas at its core. The novel has this solid, singular nature to it. You've probably seen the image that gets passed around, which at first looks like gibberish, and after reading this book, it's not only extremely helpful but also a very nice summary of everything Finnegans Wake is about. The first page is like that too; it's actually quite amazing how much of the major themes of the work are represented just in those first three paragraphs. All of this speaks to a singularity that is completely unique to Finnegans Wake. It knows what it wants to be and is that thing throughout. Portrait of the Artist is a novel that went through iteration after iteration, growing and changing rapidly almost in the same way its protagonist does in the novel. Ulysses is quite transparently a journey, where its episodic nature meant the novel constantly changed on the fly as Joyce learned and experimented more. Finnegans Wake, on the other hand, is solid throughout. Its geography suggests something fixed in place. The novel itself undulates and recirculates, but its ideas and images are singular, only being informed and recontextualized by the cyclical associations within it. So, in essence, it's a trick, where it is both being and becoming at the same time, and that's the core of its singular and solid identity. It is a "the," as Joyce's last written word suggests. It is the destination towards which his artistic career was aiming.

And it's for this reason that I think it shouldn't be discounted because of its completely anomalous place in the history of literature. Joyce doesn't end at Ulysses; the Wake is the intended self-rejuvenating resting place. For the same reason, you don't need to read it now, and you don't have to understand it now. I was able to read through it confidently, knowing that I have my whole life ahead of me to catch the things I don't pick up on. And as for non-abstract or non-obligatory reasons for reading the novel, the family is full of endearing, well-developed characters, there are some vivid and powerful moments (such as when HCE drinks down everything his patrons left behind, literally swallowing their insults in a profound act of defiance; or a clever interlude where men spying on a young couple reveals more about their own personal feelings than those of the couple), and there is some clever and often very funny wordplay that Joyce uses, along with the generally lovely flowing cadence in which it's written. And you can still get a good idea of the novel with a little help from things like the introduction in this edition, the aforementioned chart, various articles, and the Campbell book. You should obviously be familiar with the canon (especially the Bible), but I think you can pretty reliably figure out what Joyce is doing in this novel by having read his other works, by reading about his life (or just this biography), and by reading Beckett's novels. It was something that should have been obvious to me before I read this, but Beckett studied under Joyce as he was writing this, and as a result, so many stylistic quirks specific to this novel end up being reproduced in Beckett in a far more digestible way. For example, think of the way How it Is by Samuel Beckett is focused around the central image of the man trudging through the mud and how its themes and metaphors come from that; Dublin and the river act in the same way in Finnegans Wake, just on a larger scale. So, you can kind of work backwards from Beckett to pick apart the mechanisms he picked up on.

So, be assured that, even if the book is definitely as difficult as its reputation suggests, and even if a lot of it goes over your head, you'll still have bits that stay with you. And if you have any interest in Joyce, it would be a disservice to yourself if you were to completely avoid this because of its intimidating qualities. Whenever you feel ready, you should definitely give it a try. I highly recommend it.

So, I read Finnegans Wake.

Why? I don't know... Am I a sick masochistic freak? (My music teacher saw me reading today and called me a glutton for punishment. Yeah, maybe.) You can't even brag about this kind of thing because literally no one cares. It's kind of embarrassing actually.

I mean, I didn't really have anything better to do. And I knew I wanted to attempt it at some point in my life, so I thought I might as well get it over with.

You can probably already tell this was more of a notch-in-the-bedpost thing than an appreciating Joyce's genius thing, and, well, yeah. I know some people want to read this book to analyze every sentence and really go in-depth, but I did a little research into the whole premise before beginning, and, like, it was sort of interesting, but not interesting enough to make me want to join them. I just wanted to read the book at a surface level, and I did! I'm not about to join the group that's like "This is nonsense! This sucks!" just because I didn't get it (and, let's be honest, I didn't really get it), but I'm just saying I didn't set out on this book with the intention to really decode and savor it, if you know what I mean.

Reading it was quite the experience. I'd say I got a solid one pun every five pages with my shaky high school level classics, English, and Spanish. I've always read books by whispering the words out loud to myself, and for once I'm glad about it (usually I just look stupid). When it got really dense and confusing, I would sort of just sit there reading like @_@ and rotate the shape of the words around in my head like those digital 3D models. At some points after a session, I would start feeling physically weak and nauseous. I also, like, could not sleep these last couple of nights. It was exactly the same feeling as when I miraculously qualified for the cross country zones in year 8 (?) and had to go to a weekend practice and got self-conscious at being worse than everyone else, so I lowkey sprinted the whole course and then made that nausea even worse by chugging my whole drink bottle and nearly threw up (I didn't qualify past zones, unsurprisingly). Anyway, that was the exact same way reading this book made me feel sometimes. I nearly gave up around the 400-page mark, but I mean I'd already made that much progress. Some passages were fine though. Like, I'm not a hater!

Also, as much as I think playing the "argument invalid: straight white male" card is annoying and reductive, this is literally the peak of straight white male jerkoffery LOL. I'm not going to like expand on that because I don't think I need to.

So basically, I didn't really enjoy it. But I don't hold that against myself or Joyce. I think he had his own problems, like for instance the shit and fart love letters that have made me unable to really take him or his work seriously since I found out about them late last year. Sorry if that's stupid, but they are FOUL. Now I'm going to list off parts of the book I took photos of because they made me laugh for stupid reasons.

Page 163: 'And Hi Hi High must say you are not Hoa Hoa Hoally in the wrong!'
James Joyce predicts the debut title track of South Korean girl group LOONA.

Page? (didn't get the page number in the photo oops): '...excited, rpdrpd, allauding to...'
James Joyce predicts RuPaul's Drag Race.

Pages 547 and 548: 'Yet know it was vastly otherwise which I have heard it by mmummy goods waif as I...' and '...cocquette coiffs'
James Joyce, by using the words 'waif' and 'cocquette' in quick succession, predicts the 2022 Lily Rose Depp edtwt Lizzy Grant femcel era.

Page 557: '...or them four hoarsemen on their apolkaloops...'
Aw man, I Mandela effected myself into thinking that there was a Weird Al Yankovic album called Apolkalypse, but it's actually Alpocalypse. Which I think is worse, and now I can't even include it in my Goodreads review.

Page 606: sentence that is just the word 'yee'
This one was kind of scary. That's literally my surname. Shouted out??

Page 628: sentence that is just the word 'lps'
James Joyce predicts Slovenian Eurovision 2022 entry. Last place but forever and ever first in my heart. ❤

What impudence! This GR user has the gall to review a book he hasn't quite finished?

Well, yes, but he seems to think he is as likely now to understand what happens as he will be when he has actually finished it.

But he will finish it?

Yes, definitely... Well, no, maybe not.

Hmm. I rather like his style! Let us hear what he has to say.

There. I've done the preliminary thinking for you, and I'm about to do some more, so if you didn't like the first part, you won't like what's coming.

I don't want in particular to emphasize the similarities of this book with its coeval monstrosity The Cantos of Ezra Pound (which, by the way, I'm not going to finish until I have at least a little understanding of Chinese), even though they are plenty. They both took an enormous amount of time to write, but often don't look as if they took more than two-three days of hammering brainlessly at a typewriter. They both use an aggregation (why call it that? because, if one has two or more decades to write something, he will naturally learn in the meantime quite a bit of crap to plug in there, language not excepting) of languages & linguistic formulae. They were at the time of their being published, & continue to be, received with bafflement & strongly polarized opinion: from lauds-&-laurels (see MJ's review) to censure & parody (see Manny's).

What is my point? Not much of one, really, except that you may notice yourself detesting one for the same reasons you praise the other & vice versa (I certainly did). Or maybe you won't. Or maybe you don't want to read either (for which you have my complete understanding & sympathy). In any case, I urge you (as I must again & again urge myself) to keep an open mind.

My own experience reading these vomitings of the modernist 'great minds' is that I had a vaguely similar linguistic training: that is, I learned, among other things, Greek & Latin in school. And so I'm at the very least able to detect some of the goofs & gags of FW, and more abundantly in Ulysses, that non-Classicists will probably miss unless they use another source like the Skeleton Key by so-&-so. If you're interested, take a look at my notes where I try to point some of them out (in order to cross-reference them later or something, I don't know).

Does this knowledge enhance my enjoyment of such works? Maybe, but probably not. It's like watching with a friend a scene in a movie where the characters speak, e.g., in Russian. The subtitles tell you both what is being said, but you who know Russian get the whole truth. Maybe there's some subtle joke or nuance in the Russian that the English can't express.

Now, if that anecdote were taken to the extreme, & every character in the movie were speaking a code unique unto himself, there is simply no linguist, no polyglot, no dream-interpreter who would be capable of understanding the full picture because it would be so irreparably fragmented. Therein lies the point of Finnegans Wake, which tells a universal tale that everyone knows, whether the rollicking Irish ballad or the nursery rhyme of 'Humpty-Dumpty', by intimations, insinuations, puns, reworkings of speech-mechanisms & idioms like 'ashes to ashes' & 'right as rain'. An immensely time-consuming task, the literary equivalent of a tessellation large enough to cover all the halls of old Finn McCool.

As to whether or not this time-consuming task is actually worthwhile, I don't rightly know. I have an acquaintance who spends 12 - 14 hours of his day playing online games like League of Legends with his friends, and very surely by the end of his lifetime he will have spent much more time on that activity than old one-eyed JJ ever did on his little novella. What really is the difference, apart from the former will have no certificate or proof at the end? Is it not likely that at some point both chaps will have forgotten why it is they do what they do & keep going as by the possession of some demon?

Well, we all know what the difference is, although it takes some getting used to. And whether we like it or not, there are mountains. We would be fools to sit and wait for them to crumble.

Stealing an idea from Manny's review, here's part of the (British) Highway Code if it was written by James Joyce any time during the last 17 years of his life.

This is the section called ROAD SIGNALS.

Swarn and inform other roadusers aminxt that nombre of evelings, including pedestrigirls and jumbleboys (see 'and twinglings of twitchbells in rondel’ section twoozle para fleeph), of your inbended actions. You should have a kelchy chose and clayblade and at all times make prayses to the three of clubs always, having checked it is not misleading to tuss like a whoopy anisine, whipping your eyesoult and gnatsching your teats over the brividdy road users before changing course or direction, stopping or moving off (djowl there, longfoot here, and bejesus back again) and the doctor's bill for Joe McJohn and all his catholic lemony heathens.

Cancel them after use, the rancid old patootsies. Make sure your signals will not unblade your corsets forswooth and let the loobully moons aloose to confuse the caboose and grake the speens of the urgier others. This is not allowed. If, for instance, you want to stop adilly and look adolly, as we do, as we done and as we will, do not blooger the whooger untill you pass the galoshes of Mrs Minchum Birny Kirny and the little jeepy twins. Yes! Kadiddly! Your brake lights will warn kachooth and your broken lights will foghorn willikins my billikins, or you can use an arm to signal to emphasise or pomphesise or undersize the loof of the lamplight lillyjoggings in all their creamy birny underthings which you can quite see if you stand on a chair. And o lord groggins, remember that signalling does not give you priority.

I vividly remember that initially, reading about this was quite enjoyable for me. However, things took a strange turn when I began to have really peculiar nightmares. Technically speaking, the novel is intended to imitate the language of nightmares and dreams in general.

Moreover, I recall feeling rather awkward regarding the language during idle conversations. Whenever someone would start talking to me about anything, I found it extremely difficult to suppress my laughter. With all that in mind, it becomes evident that the effects this book had on me were just as absurd as the book itself actually is.

I do have a liking for Ulysses, but it is crystal clear that this particular work is that of a madman. The disjointed and often incomprehensible nature of the language, combined with the strange dreams it诱发, makes it a truly unique and somewhat baffling experience.

Our Wake Reading Group is a treasure trove filled with all kinds of useful odds and ends.

Here is a link that might interest you: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...

Ay Hell[p]-full Qwroat from Jamesy

"[A]nyone who reads the history of the three centuries that precede the coming of the English must have a strong stomach, because the internecine strife, and the conflicts with the Danes and the Norwegians, the black foreigners and the white foreigners, as they were called, follow each other so continuously and ferociously that they make this entire era a veritable slaughterhouse. The Danes occupied all the principal ports on the east coast of the island and established a kingdom at Dublin, now the capital of Ireland, which has been a great city for about twenty centuries. Then the native kings killed each other off, taking well-earned rests from time to time in games of chess. Finally, the bloody victory of the usurper Brian Boru over the Nordic hordes on the sand dunes outside the walls of Dublin put an end to the Scandinavian raids. The Scandinavians, however, did not leave the country, but were gradually assimilated into the community, a fact that we must keep in mind if we want to understand the curious character of the modern Irishman….The mystic theologian who assumed the pseudonym of Dionysius, the pseudo-Areopagite, says somewhere, “God has disposed the limits of nations according to his angels”, and this probably is not a purely mystical concept. Do we not see that in Ireland the Danes, the Firbolgs, the Milesians from Spain, the Norman invaders, and the Anglo-Saxon settlers have united to form a new entity, one might say under the influence of a local deity? And, although the present race in Ireland is backward and inferior, it is worth taking into account the fact that it is the only race of the entire Celtic family that has not been willing to sell its birthright for a mess of pottage.’ (Critical Writings, 1966, p.159-66.)’

This is also very helpful: http://www.ricorso.net/rx/library/aut...

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read (v.)

Old English rædan (West Saxon), redan (Anglian) meant "to advise, counsel, persuade; discuss, deliberate; rule, guide; arrange, equip; forebode; explain" (related to ræd, red "advice"), from Proto-Germanic *redan. The words from this root in most modern Germanic languages still mean "counsel, advise."

Connected to riddle via the notion of "interpret." The transference to "understand the meaning of written symbols" is unique to Old English and (perhaps under English influence) Old Norse raða. Most languages use a word rooted in the idea of "gather up" as their word for "read."

One cannot read passively. Nor can one read in isolation. It is a process, a doing. There are black marks on pulped wood. We convert them, explain them to ourselves, digging deep to unearth silt, rich in nutrients, sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet, sometimes as dark as Guinness or as sharp as the first sip of Whiskey on a teenage tongue. But always involving, always evolving.

We gather up scattered traces and, like Bibliomancers, we interpret, predict, tell our own fortune as well as that of the text. Joyce has refused to allow us the comfort of pretense, of our childish game of "story." Instead, he asks us to work. He took 17 years to create something, so it's no surprise we should be asked to spend a little more time on it than usual.

write (v.)

Old English writan meant "to score, outline, draw the figure of," later "to set down in writing." It is from Proto-Germanic *writan "tear, scratch." Words for "write" in most Indo-European languages originally mean "carve, scratch, cut."

To write is to do violence to something. It is not peaceful, calm, or benign. He has scratched hard into the World, bringing forth blood. It is not intended to be easy or polite.

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You are sitting down. In front of you is a small rectangular object made of a substance derived from trees. You manipulate the object with your hands, noting that it has been divided into a series of thin sheets. Each side of the sheet is covered in small black marks. You focus your attention on these marks. Taught as a child to associate these marks with certain vocalised signs known as words, your optic muscles begin directing your eyes in rapid horizontal movements. Photons, having travelled for 8 minutes from the sun to reach you, are reflected back from the sheets and converted by a thin wall of flesh at the back of your eyes into a series of electro-chemical signals that travel deep into your brain, setting off a cascading fireworks display of activity.

But the text before you now is different. It interrupts this process, highlighting and illuminating what is ordinarily invisible. Your visual cortex is unable to rapidly and silently decipher the words. It requests assistance from other parts of your brain, entering a dialogue, an investigation. It is forced to operate in ways it has not done since you were a child. The sensation is pleasurable. What was ready-to-hand has broken down. What was transparent has become deeply and richly coloured. It is beautiful to you.

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If you are still reading this, my last comment will simply be to stress how enjoyable the experience of working with this text was for me, how much fun it was. There is music and laughter and brain-twisting and all the wonderful things that words are capable of.

This text, in my opinion, is one of the greatest works of art ever created. It has a power, a depth, and a beauty unmatched by any other work built out of words. There are as many ways to "read" it as there are Readers, and as many ways to respond to it too. For me, the main strands were political and personal - the colonial, the patriarchal, sex suppressed and shameful, the family as a mirror of the state and of the past - it is no coincidence that references to Irish Independence abound, particularly in the final section.

What an amazing act of courage this book is.

It has been about 15 years since I read his other books, so I think 2015 will involve a chronological re-run through them all...