This is the first year that I am happy to celebrate Bloomsday, the longest day in literary history. If you didn’t know, June 16th, 1904 was the day James Joyce chose to follow the main character of Ulysses, Leopold Bloom, around Dublin, in his mostly unreadable novel (novel is used loosely here). The reason I’m happy to celebrate it this year is because, after more than 10 false starts over 20 years, I finally finished Ulysses last December. It was quite an accomplishment for me, and I celebrated in the only way I could after reading 800 pages of gibberish; by walking aimlessly around town, blubbering nonsense to myself and others for the entire day. Luckily, because I live in LA, nobody really noticed, or cared, since every corner has someone spouting some form of nonsense.
If anyone is thinking about attempting this behemoth, let me give you a couple of words of advice. First, just let every concept of plot, and characters, and sanity go out the window, you’ll find none of it here. There’s an entire section that is just written as advertising copy writing examples, and another that has 8 run-on sentences only, covering about 20 pages, and you’re expected to follow along. Don’t try to make sense of it, get your brain out of the way, and just enjoy the flow of sounds, and thoughts. Second, drink a lot.
When I finished the book I didn’t know what to think. I was happy that I finished it, but I didn’t quite know what I had read. It stuck with me though. Over the course of the next few days, it all made much more sense. It eventually creeped up to become one of my favorite books of all time, not only for the challenge of finishing, but for the nuances, and closeness to pure thought that Joyce exhibits in Ulysses, and I’m a book snob.
Now to tackle Finnegans Wake sometime in the next 20 years, if only to hold claim to my book elitism. But, before that, as a prerequisite to starting, I must schedule my first round of shock treatment. Good bye.