Maybe I should read it some day like a big girl instead of giggling "Words! Foamy!" But I'm busy with Infinite Jest at the moment.

But I'm busy with Infinite Jest at the moment.

erika, when you're done, will you let me know what you think? Z was obsessed with it for a while last summer, and I just couldn't get through it. I'd like to hear someone else talk about it.

I'm not going to dispute that Woolf is a bad ass, Jen. Tell you the truth, I think that Pynchon ought to be King Modernism. He's more conventionally wittier than the rest by half ('cause who gets most of Joyce's jokes other than Joyce?), and he's gone to the trouble of proving that Modernism is relevant to the postmodern novel.

Because people often refer to Joyce as the Head Modernist In Charge, and I dispute that. I appreciate his talent, certainly, but I think Woolf gave more to the genre, and to literature in general.

Ah. This is where it helps to not give a damn about classifying them; I love them both. Where Maysa says Joyce's linear stuff goes over her head, I can honestly say that what goes completely over mine is when people start classifying the stuff.

Because - I'm not being snarky, I really don't get it - why does that matter? I read the book or don't read it; dig it or loathe it; consider or ponder or get stoned from it, or think it's a wet mess. Or something in between.

But I can't take part in the "who's the best in the school of" conversations; I'm completely ignorant on that level.

I just read the stuff. I can't dissect it, or it loses its magic for me.

I've read some Joyce, including Ulysses (Dubliners, Finnegan's Wake, Portrait). I think he's a keystone to modern "British" literature. Ulysses may be a tough place to start with him, but I do think it is a must-read.

And I apologize for coming across as a scold upthread. I thought I smelled anti-intellectualism in some of those posts, but they don't look that way on a re-read. I'm sorry for the insinuation.

apparent pride some of y'all are exhibiting in admitting that you skipped one of the most important works of literature in the English language

Nah, that's not pride, that's just indifference. I secretly belong to the school that thinks Joyce was making fun of everyone, pulling every fifth sentence out of a random box and waiting to see how many people went 'Oh, yes, genius, sheer genius' and how many said 'Dude, what the hell are you on and why aren't you sharing?'

OK, it may be a while, but, sure. I keep having to read stuff over. Which, since I like to think I'm a bit clever, I almost never do. But he caught my attention with the legless assassins "who show no fear, except for a rumored fear of steep hills" There's one part that's made me feel weird about my Homicide thing...want to find DFW and say "Hey!"(Cause that's my hey, although the obsession discussed was M*A*S*H*)

how many said 'Dude, what the hell are you on and why aren't you sharing?'

That would be me. Please, sir, can I have some more?

And I'm damned if I can understand why erika should feel obliged to reread it on a "grown-up" level. What's wrong with just digging the words? What's wrong with a completely visceral reaction to something? Why does it also have to be cerebal?

Huh. I think I just figured out why I don't like Karlheinz Stockhausen...

legless assassins "who show no fear, except for a rumored fear of steep hills"

snerk.