Ulysses: Dear Silent Auditor

Dear Silent Auditor,

Once upon a classroom merry, while I perused freak and fairy, I came upon a curious volume of forgotten lore. None had courage to ask it out, so lonely it lay 'longside Dr. Seuss. 'Twas not hideous, just slightly obese. As my literary life had been lacking of thickness for some time, I decided to bring it along for a short fling – one month to be exact.

The nine hundred and some page journey through Jame Joyce's Ulysses has been tantalizingly tormenting. Listed among the greats of classical literature, Ulysses exudes a certain aura – one that entices any erudite scholar. At the same time, its opaque allusions and unusual diction forces the scholar to despair the extend of his own erudition. It will tempt the scholar to believe that he has grasped the essence; it will reveal layers underneath. It will show the scholar its innermost musings; it will charge the scholar with ignorance of superficial dialogue. Oh, humanity.

James Joyce writes with an innate aptitude for confusing the reader. At times, he will utilize beautiful prose to reveal a character's most private feelings of angst and melancholy. There is a scene in where “Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage... who's mass of forms darkened the chessboard” (p. 326, par. 1). Without any indication, the speaker will suddenly

– Jump into a dialogue in first person narrative, I said, with only a hyphen to delineate dialogue.

As quotations marks are rarely used, it can be difficult to match ideas to speakers.

GARY: However, one chapter is presented in the style of a drama, in which the speaker is identified.

The confusing syntax, coupled with obscure allusions, often made reading Ulysses an arduous task for me. Not being able to understand context at times, I was pulled away from the novel.

Joyce's greatest strength as a writer lays also in his eclectic style of writing. The story of Ulysses takes place within the course of a single day. If not for the interjections of poetry and drama within his prose, this narration would be extremely dull. Strategically positioned in the mid-section of a history lesson, Joyce's insert of “guts red roaring/ After Lowry's lights” provokes interest in an otherwise obscure poet, Owen Garry (p. 404, par. 3). The syntax of drama allows Joyce to depict the pleasantly vivid imagery of a baby who cries “Hajajaja” while “ curdled milk is flowing from his mouth” (p. 680, par. 5).

The novel appealed to me most during moments when I could empathize with the event or speaker. In one scene, the main character strolls along the beach, closing “his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells” (p. 45, par. 2). He goes on to contemplate the short existence of life. The tranquility of the surrounding world, juxtaposed in stark contrast to the chaotic clashing of confused thoughts, is a situation that I often encounter. In moments like that, I become completely drawn into the book, silently pondering the heavy questions proposed by the speaker.

Love, loss, and melancholy, have we not had them all? For some of us, like the novel's Molly, love can be found outside of marriage. Of course, the broken trust, hurt, and reconciliation are inevitable aspects in the novel as in our lives. Losing a loved one can be painful, as Joyce's Bloom can attest. He lost his son to Death, and has since embarked on a healing journey. When we lose loved ones to Time's sceptre, we will grieve and mourn. Ultimately though, living is contingent on healing and moving on, as evidenced by the character of Bloom. Another interesting character, Stephen Dedalus, explores the subject of melancholy in life. The novel shows that melancholy is not some disease of suicidal depression, but rather a pragmatic approach to welcoming what life – or Death – throws at you. If we live life with a little bit of melancholy, like Stephen did, we would be much less likely to collapse under the weight of our castles of hope.

Coupled with the afore-mentioned life lessons, the intrinsic values that James Joyce gives to the reader makes Ulysses so much more than an entertaining book. I have always believed that whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger – most of the time. Ulysses is unlike any other novel that I have ever read. However, I have come out from under the dragon with a better understanding of modernist literature, literary form, and life.

All the Best,

Gary Xia

Written for English 12