Bloggysses, Bloggysez

or, How not to read Joyce

1. Without notes.

Cuz you ain't seen nothing like it, yo.

The man brings all his Latin-filled, literary-enthused, religion-obsessed chaos and thumps it right across your face. And you'll feel pretty much as if you're facing ol' Curtly at Antigua while carrying a table tennis racket. In a swimsuit.

Get an annotated version.


2. At night, in bed.

After a long day spent working, reading up on all the shittiness that is the world, and trying to keep track of all the blogs you follow (and leave some sensible comments on them), and finally getting your bleary, addled brain to a soft (so soft) pillow - that is really not when you want to be reading this book.

Especially if you happen to be reading chapter three*.


3. On a lovely, sunny day with a slight breeze floating through it.

Otherwise you will just hate yourself, anybody who ever suggested you read Joyce, all the books and articles that keep going on about it's such an important piece of literature, and the man himself.

There is also the risk that polite police officers might land up at your door wondering why you thought it necessary to give so many people a minor heart attack with all the banging and clawing against the window.


4. Simultaneously with other books.

Especially if they're of a genre or by an author that you really like. Or if they're the type of light fluff that floats out of navels. Or if they have pretty covers. Or .... basically, don't have anything else in your house that you haven't read, because otherwise you will waste endless hours wondering just why you're reading this book instead of all those others.




* Three words - no fucking clue.