I have read somewhere that, alongside In Search of Lost Time, Joyce’s Ulysses is the book that most people
claim to have read without actually having done so. Why reading Joyce is
something meant to be so cool that you should lie about is just beyond me.
Portrait of the Artist
as a Young Man is
now a century old, and it feels that way. What do we need to read this book
today for? Bore us to death? Possibly. Tell us Catholic life could be grim and
miserable? Seriously overdone.
I’ve read this book less than a year ago, and
all I seem to remember is (in alphabetical order): Apathy, Boredom,
Catholicism. Maybe I’m not enough of an aesthete, but I wonder what’s the point
of this book nowadays. In order to be considered one of the greatest writers
ever, shouldn’t your masterpieces be, erm, readable?!?
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