Ulysses for Dummies

I am not sure if anyone has ever read James Joyce for pleasure. Reading work such as Ulysses seems to be something people are either forced to do for school, or something they take on as some sort of sadistic mental challenge.

Tonight, I went to a “Ulysses in 60 Minutes” presentation at St. Kate’s. It wasn’t what I expected. I assumed the talk would be given in one of the auditoriums, the seats filled with literary types in thick scarves and turtlenecks. Instead, the presentation was in a tiny classroom that the 12 attendees filled to capacity. The speaker, Patrick O’Donnell, is originally from Dublin and currently teaches at Normandale. He is a Joyce scholar and has written several plays based on Joyce and his work. His wife introduced him, although I am not sure why, and his three red-headed daughters attended as well (ages 1 to 5). When I wasn’t distracted by Lily O’Donnell moving chairs around and drawing puppies on the whiteboard, or little Anya’s high pitched protests coming in from the hall, where she was being shushed by her mother, the presentation was actually pretty interesting.

O’Donnell contends that in order to understand Joyce’s admittedly “frustrating” book, one should take the time to become acquainted with the author’s biography. Once we understand the writer, O’Donnell promised, Ulysses “opens right up.” Not sure about that, but it was interesting non-the-less to hear about Joyce’s childhood, education, and subsequent weaving of his life story into the epic that is Ulysses.

In Ulysses, Joyce takes on the “urban man of no importance” and attempts to show the “filth in beauty.” As a young man, Joyce rebelled against Yeates’ pastoral landscapes of Ireland as a mythical beauty. Ulysses is also a comedy, O’Donnell pointed out. That peaked my interest, just a little.

There was a lot more, we covered a surprisingly vast amount of information in 60 minutes.

In conclusion, you might ask if I plan on attacking Ulysses on my next beach vacation. Nah, I think I’ll stick with Anne Lamott and the latest Best American Short Stories. But at least I have some idea on what Ulysses is sort of supposed to maybe represent. So the next time you hear me drop a Ulysses reference at a cocktail party, please humor me. Nudge me gently, wink, then go get me another gin and tonic.