Since this book is an anomaly unto itself, I will review it with a true story that I made up.

There's a custodian in my apartment complex I've become friendly with named Red. One day, as I sat reading my copy of Finnegan's Wake, I noticed Red eyeing me up. I asked him if he was familiar with it. He replied "Yes" in his kindly old Red way. Then, to my surprise, he launched into a breathless, half-hour criticism of Joyce as a literary thief. He called him the "Picasso of letters," convincingly accusing him of cobbling his text together from bits and pieces of other writers' work.

Astonished by his knowledge and passion, I asked Red why he was a custodian and not teaching English Lit somewhere. "Because," he said, "I hate James Joyce...And I don't know how to read." This story shows that sometimes, our understanding and opinions of a book can come from the most unexpected sources. It also makes me wonder if our perception of a literary work is truly objective or if it is influenced by our own biases and experiences.

Overall, this book has made me think deeply about the nature of literature and the different ways in which people can engage with it.

Literature can be seen as a form of cryptography, an opera in an unknown language, or the remembrance of a fading dream, a dream of narratives and conversations overheard through a wall. It makes one wonder if there has ever been a book where the recognizable phrases, sounds, or rhythms of language have been more welcome.

Of course, there is a tension within the reader, as if this is the most incredible practical joke ever written. Well, if that's the case, one must choose sides. This is an unavoidable language monolith. One can either risk being a fool or always wonder what they missed.

There is something about the Lacanian unconscious stream of language.

Note on method: First Read: Started with McHugh annotations, experiencing a feeling of drowning and burial. Then switched to the audiobook as a supplement, which brought joy, bewilderment, hilarity, hypnotism, and wonder. Decided to reread with McHugh annotations and will be "waking" moving forward unto death.

Update, 2021:

OK guys, gals, and others. I'm repenting, a bit. What is written below is the representation of my head from bygone days. It's an amusing rant, and maybe I still feel marginally the same as those ways stated therein. At the same time, I am open to the challenge of the toughies of the canon. I may yet attempt a completion of this. Some people have nudge-nudged me along a bit on the virtues of modernism/post-modernism, and one of those people is myself, having engaged some taunting and daunting thingies to my actual delight. I don't think Joyce himself would begrudge me this, very much. So, maybe in short order a new reading, a full reading, will follow on the morrow. The morrow being like a geological-interpretation-of-the-Bible morrow, but still... obviously sooner. Cheerio.

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OLD STUFF that Philistines like me have liked, below:

-- "He spillyspilled the javagroundsdowndown down on the dillyportportmanteau dallyrig and spiedeyed the bigbuggered werdybirdys tome and glazed himself cataractous and craniallyabled himself away along the ruttedroad to the pubbubbly where Evesapples temptation restor'd his senseandsensibility."

-- Evan Gilling, from a never-to-be written opus

That is my answer to Finnegans Wake -- a book I've sampled and thereupon decided to not spend further precious minutes of my fleeting life on.

Before I say more, let me share an episode, wrought from the dramatic pages of Goodreads. I had a Goodreads friend for a brief wink in time last year, who went by the name of Caitlyn. She was an English major I believe. She was the one who friended me; this is an important point to isolate and emphasize. I say "friend" because that's the word ascribed to and proscribed by online social networking circles and sites such as this one to delineate those who mutually agree to some tenuous linkage that sets them apart from the great unwashed avatar-uploaders otherwise not selected. For those imbued with a high degree of optimism and naivete, these pseudo friendships might actually morph into what the concept originally meant.

In any case, we seemed to be getting along famously, liking each others' reads and so on, when, lo and behold, she marks Finnegans Wake as "to read." I -- being the impudent imp I am and having, as I said, sampled bits of this Joycean tome to my chagrin -- simply wrote a comment in her review box that read: "No way!" To which she replied: "What?" To which I replied: "Huh?" To which she replied by deleting me from her friends' list.

I think part of the point of this aside is that people who take Finnegans Wake or literature in general this dogmatically and seriously are pretentious boors who I probably don't want to know, and thus my deletion from her friends' list was a good thing; a tenuous linkage nipped in the bud early and to my relief.

So, what I have to say about Finnegans Wake is as follows, in no particular order.

* Literature is a diverse entity with different meanings for different people. Some love Danielle Steel, Dan Brown, sword-wielding hero fantasies, and other story-driven works. Then there are those like me with more esoteric tastes, enjoying mood, analysis, and angsty ruminations on the human condition as seen in Roth and Updike's works. And there are experimental flights of fancy like Finnegans Wake, which can be read as an abstract, musical, alliterative poem with little regard for plot or conventional literary form. This category of book simply holds little interest for me. However, I do appreciate experimentation within a more conventional context, such as the odd and disturbing tangents in Nathanael West's Miss Lonelyhearts.

* I am not bilingual. I read, write, and speak only in English, and despite attempts to learn Portuguese via the Pimsleur language course, I remain limited. Therefore, for me to read a work of English literature, it must be in understandable English, not a collection of made-up words.

* If I want portmanteau words, I'll turn to better writers like Dr. Seuss, Lewis Carroll, or A.A. Milne, who have the decency to not overstay their welcome.

* I believe there is something inherently wrong with a book that takes years to read, remains fully incomprehensible, and spawns a lucrative industry of study guides for decoding.

* Those who probe this book too deeply get frustrated as they can't fully decode it, while those who say it should be skimmed (claiming it's not that difficult) seem to imply it's not worth deep exploration. I can't quite figure this out.

* In the time it would take to read this book, I could have read and enjoyed the wisdom of 200 other books.

* If, unlike the four- and five-star raters who won't admit they haven't finished the book they're rating highly, you want to be truthful and say you've read "Finnegan's Wake" without lying, you can read the original same-named ballad that inspired Joyce's opus here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finnegan...

* There's a story called "The Emperor's New Clothes." Go back and read it and think about it a bit.

* The 20th century was eventful, mainly due to its wars, not its arts, at least not in the sense of its so-called "high" arts like painting, literature, and classical music. It was the "low" arts like movies, pop music (jazz, rock, etc.), and popular literature that defined the best of the century. Esoteric experimental nonsense like Finnegans Wake was perhaps part of a necessary deconstructionist tangent that art had to follow, but it led right to a dead end.

* I expect an author to do the work for me or at least meet me halfway. I don't want to be a passive reader, but neither do I want to have to do excessive work. I have an hourly rate I expect to be paid for that. An artist can be as uncompromising as they wish, but I'm under no obligation to read the results.

* I read one-fifth of Joyce's Ulysses and gave it five stars because, even though I don't understand about two-thirds of it, the good passages are among the most thoughtful, profound, and beautifully stated in all of English, and it's still written in recognizable English.

* I think spending one precious second of one's life on this book instead of, say, going out and having a good time indicates misplaced priorities. And I think the author of Finnegans Wake himself would have agreed.

Final boss down!

This is an expression that often comes up in the context of gaming. When gamers finally manage to defeat the most difficult and powerful enemy in a game, they exclaim "final boss down" with a sense of accomplishment and excitement.

"Tfw beat literature" is a play on words. It might imply that someone has overcome a challenging piece of literature, perhaps a complex novel or a difficult academic text. Just like defeating a final boss in a game, mastering a difficult piece of literature can give a person a similar feeling of satisfaction.

In both cases, there is a sense of having triumphed over a significant obstacle. Whether it's in the virtual world of gaming or the intellectual realm of literature, achieving a difficult goal can be a very rewarding experience.

Final boss down! Tfw beat literature! These phrases capture the essence of that moment of victory and the joy that comes with it.

Yeast(y)erday, on Mark Joy's Bee=Daye, a second additional recordinational thingum=mabob (musee-musecalisch!) of ole Finnie's Wake (waht! waht!) was released.

No bridge!
http://www.waywordsandmeansigns.com/

Er(n)st auf=nahm hear ::
http://www.waywordsandmeansigns.com/f...


_________
This is the third edition of Finnegans Wake that I've shelved with partial-credit so far this year. You know it's not the fault of Finnegan. I love this novel that passively resides in my memorium. My active mental activity is more focused in other directions and I'm not really into books-as-audio. However, this is a really rather nice project. Please do give it a sampling ;; http://www.waywordsandmeansigns.com/

The release of this new thingum=mabob related to Finnegan's Wake is an exciting event. It offers a fresh perspective on the novel. Although I have my own preferences and limitations when it comes to reading and enjoying books, I can still appreciate the effort and creativity that went into this project. The website provided is a great resource for those who want to explore more about it. I encourage everyone to take a look and see what it has to offer.

1/7 I DONT UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!

I’m going to give this a few more hours, that’s all. Joyce causes me mental pain. I think he’s making my teeth hurt too. Maybe irritating my pinched nerves in my right shoulder.

The outside neighborhood feline has gone off its food. The garbage truck swung away from my driveway. CRACK Sylvia!

1/5 What the hell am I listening to right now? I found an audio version I thought might help me get thru this hot mess, except no. Sylvia Beach, I swear you had to have been on crack.

FINALLY! I found a 99 cent copy of this book. I wanted to pay as little as possible for this stream of unconsciousness. Am I asleep or am I awake? Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs book.

I already know how hard I’m going to work at understanding this piece of lit. Seriously, this book is on about 5 of my LISTS. And it was very hard for me to find.

I'm not sure if I'll ever truly understand Joyce's work. It's like a maze that I keep getting lost in. But I'm determined to give it a try, at least for a few more hours. Maybe something will click and I'll finally see the beauty in his words.

Until then, I'll just keep struggling through, hoping that one day it will all make sense.

I came, I saw, I conquered!

I huffed, I puffed, I quit. It was a rather strange journey. I set out with high hopes and a sense of determination, much like Julius Caesar when he proclaimed "I came, I saw, I conquered!". But as time went on, the going got tough. I huffed and puffed, trying my best to keep going, but in the end, I just couldn't take it anymore and I quit. How I even managed to get to 200 pages, I will never know. It seems like a miracle. Maybe I should treat myself to a cream horn or two just for getting that far. After all, it's not every day that I achieve something like this. Even though I didn't reach my ultimate goal, I still feel a sense of pride in what I have accomplished.

A Portrait of the Artist is my absolute favorite book of all time, and I have a great love for Ulysses as well. However, I must admit that this particular book seems to be a challenge that might even defeat me. Perhaps one day, when I find myself braver and more courageous, I will gather the strength to give it a try. But at the moment, the answer is no.

I leave you with this quote from Joyce's patron Harriett Weaver that probably sums up this whole situation:

"I am made in such a way that I do not care much for the output from your Wholesale Safety Pun Factory nor for the darknesses and unintelligibilities of your deliberately entangled language system. It seems to me you are wasting your genius."

WHOLESALE SAFETY PUN FACTORY holy shit

(Also, I can't stop myself from making this joke um:

JOYCE: Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax!

NON-CLASSICISTS: what the entire fuck does this mean

CLASSICISTS: )

The text delves into various aspects of James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake." It begins with a strange collection of words and phrases that seem to hint at the complexity and playfulness of the work.

We learn about the efforts to translate the final four pages of the Anna Livia chapter into Basic English by C.K. Ogden with Joyce's cooperation. The Voynich Manuscript is also mentioned, and its mysterious nature is compared to the enigma of "Finnegans Wake."

The way Finneganian works is explored, highlighting how Joyce uses a limited number of words at a time while also presenting multiple characters and stories simultaneously. This challenges the notion of the English language as strictly monolingual.

Thoughts from Slavoj Žižek on Joyce's works are presented, emphasizing how they take into account possible interpretations and enter into a dialogue with them. Precedents for "Finnegans Wake" are found in Rabelais' "Gargantua" and an ancient Sanskrit novella.

The text also mentions artificial languages woven into the work and a recent article from The New Yorker about an amateur linguist who loses control of his invented language. Finally, details are given about a new edition of "The Restored Finnegans Wake" and the author's intention to read one to two pages per day and update their status.

Overall, the text provides a comprehensive and thought-provoking look at the many facets of "Finnegans Wake."

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to be read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Sir Francis Bacon (1561 - 1626)

Fifth time through! The date is set to the date I read the final word "the". This was in a "slow read" book club. This is my favorite book of all time. Admittedly it is challenging, but what it does is simply unique in all of literature, beautiful, silly, inexhaustible and, perhaps, exhausting.

I don't want to say that you should read this book, unless it calls to you. It is not for every one. Let me give of some hints. This is a book that can overwhelm you unless you read it slowly and patiently, too rich in overlapping symbols to digest in large pieces. And yes this is really true even for really sophisticated readers. Even if you breezed through Ulysses.

If you've read this far, you may actually decide to read this book. So first of all courage! Tip! Definitely recommend reading alongside commentary, as this is often considered the most opaque "novel" ever written. I used Campbell and Robinson's Skeleton Key and Tindall's Reader's Guide to Finnegans Wake. The best study of Wake is Joyce's Book of the Dark.

The Bishop book on the Wake is good, but it is a thematic overview. It does the best presentation of the dreamer/aspect of the book. John Gordon's plot summary is very speculative, and he tends to want to answer "what is really happening" as if the events are real, but it is a good book, and provides some very useful insights. I still think the Campbell and Robinson's Skeleton Key is the best general guide.

Tip! Definitely read the book aloud. Also strongly recommend reading only a little--even just two or three pages--per day, but every day. A reading schedule really helps so that every day some of the images and rhythms start feeding into your brain. It is a very difficult book and nobody should worry about getting their egos bruised if they get stuck from time to time. The good news is that Joyce has deliberately overdetermined his imagery, because he expects his reader to miss parts.

Part II (The start of my adventure reading it the fourth time) Well OK, I am starting the second part of this review, as I have started re-reading this book again. This edition is the one with the forward by John Bishop, which is an excellent introduction. It also has the plot summaries in the table of contents. I found that this time I was able to read the first chapter without getting completely confused without any outside help.

Part III So here is where I try to tell you what this book is about. The problem is that it isn't written in ordinary language, and so folks find themselves slipping into Joycean pun language to explain Finnegans Wake. I will try to avoid this for the most part and try to convey by suggestion and analogy. Finnegans Wake is about consciousness. Specifically, it is about all awakenings to full consciousness. A major philosophical source for Finnegans Wake is Vico.

In sleep, one is not fully cognizant of where one is, or who one is, so it is impossible to determine who is dreaming the Wake, or even if the dreamer is real. The dreamer appears to be a tavern keeper, possibly named Porter, and in the dream language appears as Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker. The other main characters of the book come from what appear to be his family. The other primary and most defined persona, is his female counterpart, Anna Livia Plurabelle, who is the river Liffey.

Now there are three children of H.C.E and A.L.P., the dueling brothers, Shem and Shaun, and the daughter, Issy. When H.C.E. seems himself as a younger man, he sees himself as a complete romantic hero. However in reality, the patriarchal world order is one in which the male principle is inherently unstable, so Hump breaks apart into two polar opposites, represented by his sons. Shem is somewhat modeled on Joyce himself, but with an acid and ironical self-deprecation. Shaun is the postman and misdeliverer of the Word. Issy is the selfregarding lookingglass girl, Maya/illusion, the Tempress.

Other recurrent characters include: The Four (the four Irish Analists, the four Godspell Writers), The Twelve (Customers at Earwicker's pub, the members of the jury), Kate the scrub woman, the Cad with the Pipe, and of course, Finnegan himself. Finnegan appears in an Irish comic ballad Finnegan's Wake. He works construction and falls to his death. At his wake, a riot ensues, someone splashes whiskey on him and he wakes up. The time of year of Finnegans Wake is the Spring of renewal. I leave the final words to Joyce. The keys to the heart of Nature herself. Sorrowful surrender and joyous embrace. The final passage of the book:

So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind me of. Lff! So soft this morning, ours. Yes. Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair! If I seen him bearing down on me now under whitespread wings like he'd come from Arkangels, I sink I'd die down over his feet, humbly dumbly, only to washup. Yes, tid. There's where. First. We pass through grass behush the bush to. Whish! A gull. Gulls. Far calls. Coming, far! End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thous endsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the

This was more of an experience than anything else.

I never felt as if I truly understood what was happening or what was being said, yet I couldn't cease reading it.

Somewhere along the way, I was simply looking at all the words, not knowing their meanings, and there were so incredibly many of them.

I could have written them down and researched them, but that would take far too long.

It was a fascinating piece of nonsense for me.

Maybe one day I'll be able to pick it back up and understand it better, or have someone in my life with whom I can buddy read and have them explain.

I feel that this book requires its own dictionary to fully comprehend all the unique and unfamiliar terms within it.

It's like a mystery waiting to be解开, and I'm eager to see if I can crack it open and uncover its hidden meanings.

Despite the initial confusion, there's something about this book that keeps pulling me back, making me want to explore its pages further.

Who knows what other surprises and revelations it holds?

Only time will tell if I'll be able to make sense of it all.

Everybody knows the plot of Finnegans Wake. Rich, old man Finnegan has passed away, leaving no will and no direct heirs.

A chaotic comedy of errors unfolds at his wake (an open-casket event), where his extended family and business associates (a diverse group of colorful and conniving characters, to say the least) vie for supremacy. Each one plots and schemes to inherit Finnegan's vast business empire and extensive real estate portfolio, which includes the magnificent and opulent Howth castle and its surroundings. The grounds, vividly described by Joyce, form the setting of the novel.

However, it is the characters in Finnegans Wake that truly stand out. Who can forget the cruel Mr Snood, whose Machiavellian machinations are evident in every interaction? Or the doddering old Mrs Buttercup, whose innocent bumbling antics hilariously foil his plans at every turn.

The uproarious hijinks reach a climax with the famous twist in the final act. Finnegan suddenly arises from his casket in front of the stunned guests, proclaiming, “Finnegan wakes!” It is revealed that the whole thing was just an elaborate ruse. Finnegan, who has been conscious the entire time, witnesses the appalling behavior of his associates and potential heirs.

He decides to leave the entire estate to a previously unmentioned boy named Billy, the simpleminded child of a village milk-maid. Months ago, Billy touched Finnegan's heart with a simple and unassuming act of kindness. This act, which is recounted by Finnegan (Billy offering a glass of milk and a kind shoulder to a parched and lonely Finnegan), has been analyzed and interpreted by critics since the novel's publication. It is a poignant moment, rich in symbolism and moral significance.

Finnegan, an otherwise stingy and curmudgeonly man, realizes the importance of kindness and friendship. He now intends to reform his own life, starting by expelling each and every parasitic so-called friend directly from the castle, “beyond a swerve of shore and bend of bay, past Eve and Adam’s, and back along riverrun whence they came!”

The novel's cathartic climax and heart-warming closing scene, in which Billy and his mother Daisy arrive at the castle and realize their life of hard poverty is finally over, are some of the most powerful and enduring moments in all of literature. Their tearful embrace and Daisy's brief monologue, spoken in an endearing and authentic local dialect (“Ooer Billy, I reckon I’ve tugged me last teat” ), conclude the novel.

Finnegans Wake was published in 1939 to a confused and divided critical reception. Its uncomplicated and light-hearted comedic tone was a surprising departure from the author's earlier, more serious works. There is a rumor that Joyce had been working on an alternative version of the novel, one filled with puns and wordplay, obscure and esoteric references, and lacking in persistent characters or a coherent plot. Fortunately, Joyce was persuaded by close friends to abandon that enterprise, as it was quite silly and pretentious. After all, who would want to read a book like that?