Oh well…

I think I should say that I have “consumed this” ‘cause it was a class assignment (I didn’t finish the last chapter thoroughly).

I think I liked it. I mean, certain aspects of it. Some parts were unnecessary to me.

I suppose I like the character of Stephen Daedalus. I see where he’s coming from.

I hate giving up on things, but I just couldn’t read this. I wasn’t enjoying it at all.

This week’s senior book—a classic, and I’m still haven’t a blast teaching it. Between T. S. Eliot and James Joyce, I think my students will have had their fill of Modernism very soon.

I’m glad I finished this, but I really did not enjoy it.

Perhaps the ultimate tale of growing up as a gifted, sensitive, hyperaware young person, dealing with feeling like an outsider as a result of such circumstances, and eventually embracing ones gifts and deciding to rely upon them, despite the slings and arrows. Much more readable than Ulysses or Finnegan… transcendent in some parts, delightfuly cheeky and irreverent in others, and always painfully innocent and sincere just below the surface. Packed with awe and wonder and a feeling of gathering mastery and self-discovery.