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.

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

That would be my overarching opinion of Joyce. To correlate it to another form of art, it's why I'm not a huge fan of Pink Floyd. In both cases, I can understand the technicalities and the whys of their status in the canon of seminal artists & works, but I myself cannot enter the headspace that would allow me to comprehend and enjoy it.

(pssst, juliana, I'm not a Pink Floyd fan either, except for "Granchester Meadows" and "Comfortably Numb" and "Shine On You Crazy Diamond"...)

This is where it helps to not give a damn about classifying them ... why does that matter?

Well, if you're interested in academic literary criticism (and certainly no one says you have to be), it helps to have a common language and framework for discussion.

That's why it matters to me, anyway.

'cause who gets most of Joyce's jokes other than Joyce?

Heh.

I can understand the technicalities and the whys of their status in the canon of seminal artists & works, but I myself cannot enter the headspace that would allow me to comprehend and enjoy it.

t nods What it comes down to for me is that life is to short to read books I don't enjoy. It doesn't matter if what turns me off is poorly written genre fic that gives all of us talented, hard-working romance/mystery/fantasy/etc. writers a bad name, or if it's an acknowledged Great Work of the English Canon that strikes me personally as boring or incomprehensible. I'll never have enough time to read everything I want, so I'm not going to read anything that feels like a punishment.

Well, if you're interested in academic literary criticism (and certainly no one says you have to be), it helps to have a common language and framework for discussion.

Oh, hell yes, I totally get that - sorry, as I said, I wasn't being snarky.

But I'm coming from the chair of the reader, and purely from the chair of the reader: the end user. So if I say, for instance, that I love both A Room of One's Own (oh, god, how I love it! Must reread soon) and The Dead, I want to be able to love them both the way I do - which is a pit of the tum love, not an intellectually-based love - without someone shaking a finger at me and telling me why I shouldn't.

Because I genuinely can't do crit - it has the same effect on me that deconstructing a mantra does. It loses its power to affect me. And in the instance of Joyce, or Woolf, I don't want my completely pit of tum reaction muddied up.

After IJ, may not have the energy anyway, Deb. (As it is, I've taken several cheap paperbacks as goomares...with IJ as "wife" get it? for the duration...I must be developing a crush on the friend that recommended that...a thousand pages could only be geek love.) But I just a. Wouldn't want to miss anything. b. Wouldn't want anybody to think I said it to be impressive.

And the BBC chimes in with the Cheat's guide to Joyce's Ulysses.