“The moon. Her nocturnal predominance: her luminary reflection: her potency over effluent & refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: her dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest & of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion & her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.” ― James Joyce, Ulysses
James Joyce’s Ulysses, considered a landmark work of literary modernism, was first published on February 2, 1922. This exhibition at the Harry Ransom Center, curated by Clare Hutton of Loughborough University, marks the 100th anniversary of the book’s publication and investigates the important and largely unacknowledged role of women in realization of his famed masterpiece.
Objects from the Ransom Center’s James Joyce Collection tell the story of the formative role of his family members and, in particular, of four women—Margaret Anderson, Jane Heap, Harriet Shaw Weaver, and Sylvia Beach, who were associated with innovative literary experimentation of the period—all of whom helped Joyce’s novel gain widespread notoriety and success.
See more than 150 rare objects that tell this story, including a first edition of Ulysses, page proofs for its first printing, original copies of The Little Review, manuscripts in Joyce’s hand, rare books, printed ephemera, and photographs.
About the Exhibition Curator Dr. Clare Hutton is Reader in English and Digital Humanities at Loughborough University. Her monograph, “Serial Encounters: Ulysses and the Little Review” (OUP, 2019) has just been reissued in paperback. Her other research includes editing The Irish Book in English, 1891-2000 (OUP, 2011), and many essays on Yeats, Joyce, and the Irish Literary Revival.
still coming out of the other side of my last essay - an analysis of the objects in ulysses through the lens of this one bit of furniture in the ithaca episode. it was sohard but very rewarding, as studying ulysses always is, and it was kind of special to write this essay across the week of the hundredth anniversary of its publication. now to get myself to dublin for bloomsday!
It’s about a man walking around Dublin and all the things he sees and thinks about. The whole book takes place over the course of one day. It might be the first book which takes longer to read than the events it portrays.
I’ve heard … things. Dark mutterings.
Yes. It’s a famously “difficult” read. One entire chapter is a single sentence. There are lots of chunks of text that seem to be sound effects, and it often transliterates the play-by-play of someone’s interior monologue. A lot of the time it’s less something you read and more something you allow happen to you.
That sounds awful. I’m out.
No! I don’t want to give you the wrong idea here, so I should probably mention that it’s very funny. As with Lolita, it’s full of word games, puns, straight-up jokes with proper punchlines, and complicated language puzzles for you to solve which most people won’t even notice.
When asked for a summary of this book, Joyce himself said, “I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant”. It sounds like a pretentious intellectual boast, but when you read the book you will see that the quote is better understood as the frank admission of some next-level trolling.
InUlysses, Joyce trolls everyone. He trolls his friends, his enemies, his family,Irish people in general and some specific Irish people. There’s probably some part of the book that trolls you. Like Beckett’s advanced trolling operations, he gets around to everyone eventually.
Basically, if you’ve read Game of Thrones and you can’t handle a book that gets around to destroying everyone at some point, you should present yourself to the relevant authorities at first light.
What should I say to make people think I’ve read it?
[Believe it or not]: “I never managed to get through the whole thing.”
What should I avoid saying when trying to convince people I’ve read it?
“The Jews again, of course. Yeah.”
Should I actually read it?
You’re not going to make it all the way through, but you should definitely try. The secret to Ulysses is that it doesn’t really matter if you finish it or not.
We’ve probably all done this before. While out and about, perhaps while traveling or shopping, we lay a scrap of paper inside a book. Maybe it’s a receipt for the book’s purchase, or perhaps it’s a plane ticket. Whatever it is, we probably don’t give it much thought at the time. But decades later, or even centuries, those scraps of paper can prove more fascinating than the host book itself.
Not to discount Robert McAlmon’s first book, Explorations, but what we found laid inside our 1921 first edition was far more interesting: an early advertisement for Ulysses (as it happens, McAlmon edited Joyce’s Ulyssesmanuscript).
Early press for Ulysses more commonly manifests as a four-page prospectus that included a detachable order form. There were two versions of this that indicated Ulysses would be published in “Autumn of 1921”—just like our single-leaf advertisement (the book was finally published in 1922). One of these prospectuses bore the earlier address of Shakespeare & Co., 8 rue Dupuytren. The second of these prospectuses bore the new address, 12 rue de l’Odéon. Our advertisement here has the earlier address, though corrected by hand (someone please tell us if it’s Sylvia Beach’s hand!) to reflect the new rue de l’Odéon address. So with a bit of sleuthing and some help from The Poetry Collection at the University at Buffalo, we can confidently suggest that this rare Ulysses ad was printed about the same time as the first prospectus.
As you might expect, printed ephemera aren’t known for their survival skills. WorldCat locates two other copies of this particular ad, one each at Yale and Cornell. Surely there are others out there, safely filed away in archival collections—or perhaps just languishing inside an old book, a forgotten memento of a visit to a Paris bookstore in 1921.
~Patrick
This Provenance Project guest post was written by Patrick Olson, Rare Books Librarian at MSU Special Collections. Patrick joined Michigan State University in 2014, having previously held special collections positions at the University of Iowa, MIT, and the University of Illinois, where he also earned his MLIS. Prior to becoming a librarian, he spent four years working in the rare book trade.
Update:
We have now separately cataloged this fascinating Ulysses prospectus. The catalog record for the item can be found here:
We’ve probably all done this before. While out and about, perhaps while traveling or shopping, we lay a scrap of paper inside a book. Maybe it’s a receipt for the book’s purchase, or perhaps it’s a plane ticket. Whatever it is, we probably don’t give it much thought at the time. But decades later, or even centuries, those scraps of paper can prove more fascinating than the host book itself.
Not to discount Robert McAlmon’s first book, Explorations, but what we found laid inside our 1921 first edition was far more interesting: an early advertisement for Ulysses (as it happens, McAlmon edited Joyce’s Ulyssesmanuscript).
Early press for Ulysses more commonly manifests as a four-page prospectus that included a detachable order form. There were two versions of this that indicated Ulysses would be published in “Autumn of 1921”—just like our single-leaf advertisement (the book was finally published in 1922). One of these prospectuses bore the earlier address of Shakespeare & Co., 8 rue Dupuytren. The second of these prospectuses bore the new address, 12 rue de l’Odéon. Our advertisement here has the earlier address, though corrected by hand (someone please tell us if it’s Sylvia Beach’s hand!) to reflect the new rue de l’Odéon address. So with a bit of sleuthing and some help from The Poetry Collection at the University at Buffalo, we can confidently suggest that this rare Ulysses ad was printed about the same time as the first prospectus.
As you might expect, printed ephemera aren’t known for their survival skills. WorldCat locates two other copies of this particular ad, one each at Yale and Cornell. Surely there are others out there, safely filed away in archival collections—or perhaps just languishing inside an old book, a forgotten memento of a visit to a Paris bookstore in 1921.
~Patrick
This Provenance Project guest post was written by Patrick Olson, Rare Books Librarian at MSU Special Collections. Patrick joined Michigan State University in 2014, having previously held special collections positions at the University of Iowa, MIT, and the University of Illinois, where he also earned his MLIS. Prior to becoming a librarian, he spent four years working in the rare book trade.
VERY controversial opinion of me to have as an english major, i know, but i can’t stand james joyce’s ulysses. why is this zillion-word-long garbage heap of pretentious nonsense hailed as one of the greatest novels in history…. truly i will never understand it. i don’t even think it has much merit as a piece of ‘transgressive linguistic progress’ or whatever because there’s no point in finding new ways to use words if said new ways make zero sense. joyce has shoved so many asinine, barely-relevant allusions into the nonexistent “plot” that it’s utterly unreadable to anyone except himself, and once you DO parse through it enough to vaguely understand what’s going on, you realize it’s literally just about Some Guy going about his day in dublin and joyce has essentially promised depth and Deep Meaning where there is none. my theory is that everyone who agrees that ulysses is great is only saying so because they didn’t understand a single word of it and desperately want to maintain their facade of intelligence.
There’s this trend on showing who was your first cartoon crush on Twitter, so instead of just posting a screencap, here’s an actual fan art of my childhood hero and major crush : Ulysses 31
Don’t know if this show was very popular overseas but I was in love with it when I was a kid. For those who aren’t familiar with its concept, it’s a rendering of the Greek myth of Ulysses’ Odysseus set in the 31st century, with aliens, robots and spaceships.
As it was made in the early 80’s, it looks a bit dated but it’s very dear to my heart.
Summary; YOU’RE FORCED TO WATCH ON THE SIDELINES DURING KLAUE’S MISSION, AS YOU WATCH ERIK MAKE OUT WITH ANOTHER GIRL
Word Count: 1839
“Y/N wait for Zhyia’s signal, then launch the coordinates for the ambulance to the museum on Stephen Cur Boulevard, so the cops can’t catch up to us that fast. Can you do that for me love?” Klaue requested, with one of his hands on the back door handle of the ambulance, ready to pull the gurney out.
“I think I can manage” I responded not even looking at him, while I typed away at my laptop, breaking the firewall that was preventing me from changing the binary sequence.
“Alright any minute now” Klaue tapped excitedly on the metal door, earning him a side eye from me. “I’m so excited” He giddied, making jazz hands at the air.
As he did, whatever he did, Zhyia came bursting in with news about Erik’s portion of the mission. “Alright, Erik got her down and all of the guards are distracted” She informed rapidly, already hoisting the gurney over opening of the doors.
“Oh isn’t this so great. What a wonderful show this is” Klaue boasted, helping Zhyia roll the mobile bed outside. “Oh and Y/N. You mind sitting out on this one love. No hard feelings right?”
Before I could respond, he had already fled the scene with Zhyia and into the entrance on the museum. I could see their hospital attire in the distance shining as the sun hit them, while I configured the coordinates.
All I heard were hurried footsteps as I saw Zhyia entering from the back and Erik following shortly behind her. The two laughed freely while Klaue started the engine, turning on the blaring sirens. I attempted to mind my business, seizing my eyes from following whatever promiscuous actions they were pursuing.
Until I noticed Erik flash me a sideways glance, before basically devouring her plastic ass face. I mean yes, I support all female empowerment and can vouch that women are worth extraordinary things, but this bitch is something else.
I mentally cringed at the sight, my heart winching in, I think anger. I bit the skin on the inside of my cheek, concentrating on my computer, at this point I was just randomly typing away at my browser, anything to get my focus off of them. But all I could hear was their saliva dripping, and lips smacking in the background.
I felt my hand on the edges of my seat, scanning the area for my earphones, but to my fortune; they were nowhere to be seen. I grimaced at the turn up, glancing at the slobbering couple before syncing my laptop with the control center of the ambulance, so it could charge properly.
While I crouched down to do so, I heard little giggles escape from Zhyia’s mouth, while still connected to Erik. I could already feel bubbles of agitation began to build up in my veins, and scratches that felt like sandpaper crawl under my skin, until I’d endure enough.
“So are ya’ll going to fuck or be cannibals? Cause for the past half hour you both have been doing nothing but devour each other?” I snapped, craning my neck to the side while I shot both of them glaring daggers.
Erik separated from her, finally paying attention to me with that primitive smirk printed all over his face. “Hold up Y/N, you’ll get your turn later sweetheart” He over confidently reassured, sending a mischievous wink my way, and planting his lips back on hers.
“Trashy bitch” I muttered to myself in annoyance, but I guess I wasn’t quiet enough when I heard Zhyia speak up.
“The hell did you say?” She barked, stepping away from Erik’s embrace. “Fuck did you just say?” She moved towards me in lighting speed, getting close up and personal. She pointed her finger in front of my face, provoking my patience, I continued to maintain a calm exposure, but the second she got to close; I stood up abruptly.
“I said ‘trashy bitch’. Unless you prefer being called a hoe” I remarked, shoving her roughly away from me. She yelped at the physical contact, catching herself on the railing of the door.
“Ugh you bitch. Look what you did to one of my nails” She complained, showcasing her red acrylic nails, one of them broken diagonally so it looked like a cracked eggshell. “This is why you stay inside on missions, you WORTHLESS WHORE” She screamed out in anger.
I felt my skin jump, and blood sizzle in that one. The blustering veins on my wrists popped out, as I attempted to lunge at her with full force, but Erik came up behind me; wrapping his muscular arms around my waist to prevent me from murdering Zhyia.
“Eyy, as much as I love women fighting over me, we’re in the back of a fucking ambulance. Both of ya’ll gotta chill, and Zhyia-” He began, catching her attention almost immediately as she fixed her webbed hair.
“Yeah” She asked, a smile attached to her lips again.
“Shut the fuck up” Erik stated, a muffled chuckle threatening to escape my lips. Her facial expression changed from 0-100, as her face grew red hot in embarrassment and shock.
Erik noticed my little reaction, shifting his gaze to me. He still had his arms around me, embracing me in a back hug, before leaning down and whispering in my ear. “That goes to you too, Y/N” He murmured, his voice tickling the skin of my ear like a feather. “But, I’ve got admit. That was probably the sexiest thing, I’ve seen you do princess” His tone deepened and became much thicker with seduction, sending electricity down my spine.
I saw Zhyia sitting in the far corner with her legs crossed as she huffed in displeasure. She reached out behind her, pulling out a set of earphones, my earphones, and rested them in her ears.
I flipped around facing Killmonger. “You know you can’t just hop from one girl to the other” I reached behind me, grabbing his intertwined arms and gently detached them from my body.
But to my dismay, he continued to attached himself to me, this time locking his arms tightly. “Who said anything about me hopping on you Y/N?” Erik teased, a mocking tone laced his lips. “I’d rather have you on me” He retorted.
A spurring rose painted my cheeks, as those dangerous words slipped from his mouth. “Who said anything about me wanting to be on you Killmonger?” I taunted, wrapping one of my legs around him, playing along with his little act.
He growled in arousement, placing his calloused palm on my thigh. I let him linger for a while, allowing him to inch closer to me, before I interrupted him abruptly and pulled away from his grasp. “Actually let me check on my Laptop” I excused myself from him, and sauntered over to where my device was charging.
In the background I heard Erik groan in distress, earning a glance from Zhyia, as he slumped by the ambulance door and sulked by himself.
“If you do this, I’ll shoot your little girlfriend here” Klaue threatened, trapping Zhyia in his arms, cowering behind her. Erik stood strongly, gripping onto the rifle in his hands, acknowledging the power he held.
“I’m sorry Erik” Zhyia whimpered, tears slipping down her terrified cheeks. I stood crouching behind the wing of a plane, not daring to interfere. My ass is too smart to die.
“It’s okay”
With a single shot, Erik sent a bullet hurdling towards her lower stomach, leaving her bleeding in agony while Klaue fled to cover. I flinched at the booming sound of the bullet leaving the gun, sounding like a restraint firework going off.
Erik simply stepped over her with ease, gliding over to where Klaue hid. I heard the two conversing, before another shot rang out, indicating that Erik had killed Klaue.
My chest contracted, my throat tightened as I began to panic, suffocating in my own anxiety. I knew I was next, he was coming for me. I maneuvered myself behind the other side of the wing, hoping I was invisible from his view.
I saw the shadow of his figure, sauntering down the dirt path, inching himself closer to where the plane laid. “Tsk tsk Y/N. I didn’t come to play hide and seek, babe” He teased, now standing in front of where I hid. I could hear the cock of his gun, and the empty bullet cartridge, falling from the holder.
As his footsteps grew farther away, I closed my eyes in relief, clutching my hands to my chest. I opened my eyes to scout the area, examining where Erik stood, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Wassup princess” He bent down behind me, angling his head to look at me, with his gun casually draping for his shoulder. I backed away sliding my hands through the dirt and gravel in panic.
He ambled around the wing, slinging his gun on his back, bending down on one knee in front of me; now eye level. He brought his ring finger up to my face, caressing my cheek. “Now what am I going to do with you?” He questioned.
I flinched in his touch, but still petrified to move. He stared at me with conflicted eyes, but still had such a dominant and powerful demeanor. Even in a situation like this, he still looks extremely fuckable.
“A-aren’t you gonna kill me?” I almost stuttered, staring back at him in my vulnerable state. I mustered all the fake confidence I could gather, and glared at him, not giving him the satisfaction in seeing me cower before him.
But he saw through my disguise. “Don’t try to act hard Y/N. Don’t forget I spent two years working with your fine ass” He chuckled, gripping his rifle in his chilling palms. “You’re right though. I could kill you” He confirmed.
He observed me longer, squaring his eyes at me in thought. “Nah, I’m not feeling it. I’d deadass be a feen, if I killed you” He casually admitted, letting go of his rifle, and standing back up; still peering at me.
He turned to walk away, the sound of his boots kicking up the sand as he marched was the only sound in the atmosphere, aside from the loud silence of Zhyia and Klaue.
He stopped mid way from his walk to look at me. “So are you gonna sit your pretty little ass there? or come with me on this helicopter?”
“What?” I asked completely baffled at the situation.
“You really think I was gonna kill you Y/N?” He questioned humorously, grinning at me in an almost psychotic way. I nodded my head in confirmation, staring at him incredulously while I dusted the dirt off of my pants.
“I’m not gonna kill you Y/N. You’re too much of my favorite to really hurt you”
“But what about Zhyia?”
“She was a side hoe, I only fucked with her cause Klaue invited her, she meant nothing of importance. But you Y/N, you’ve always been my main dish”
“I find myself really willing to declare I never finished a single book by Borges, but I’m much enamored of the idea of such an affiliation. I really can’t claim to having ever read a word of Ulysses, nor would I want to, and yet I feel myself in certain ways the result of my ideaof Joyce. I think Harold Bloom would claim that strong writers only read themselves, and that it is your misreading of your precursors that counts. So it is my misapprehension of Joyce, of Beckett. I can’t deny that for three or four years of my life I virtually saw my walk as consonant with the walk I imagined James Joyce had. But I was probably more taught by Joyce’s letters than I was by his prose fiction.” -Gordon Lish, from Conversations with Gordon Lish[eds. David WintersandJason Lucarelli]
Hello once again ENA fandom (Not even five minutes later) have some Ulysses art because this guy has, like, no art lol.
Ulysses is probably my favorite ENA character. His voice and design is just fun to me. That and his glitchyness kinda reminds me of my tourettes so that helped me like him more.
I also conceptualized a sort of “anger voice” for him. No one ever really sees or hears it because he never gets pissed off enough for it to happen.
(Tumbler is probably going to slurp the quality up like ramen so click for better quality)
Hello once again ENA fandom (Not even five minutes later) have some Ulysses art because this guy has, like, no art lol.
Ulysses is probably my favorite ENA character. His voice and design is just fun to me. That and his glitchyness kinda reminds me of my tourettes so that helped me like him more.
I also conceptualized a sort of “anger voice” for him. No one ever really sees or hears it because he never gets pissed off enough for it to happen.
(Tumbler is probably going to slurp the quality up like ramen so click for better quality)
School is okay, I guess, but I always feel like I’m doing something to humiliate myself…Talked to some people on Friday, and felt like a real dolt afterwards. I just tried to read Ulysses until some jocks got to me. Then I was like “O__O Oh shit.” I’ve just kind of been going over Friday all weekend and have been going through everything I wish I wouldn’t have done, and everything I wish I would’ve done. I really just think I should keep my mouth shut and keep quiet. I mean, I already do that, but I feel like when I do speak, I just kind of act like a jackass. I’m super awkward, so I think I accidentally make people feel like it’s them when it’s definitely me. Then I’m all nice and loud and jokey and stupid and doltish. Oh my God…I’ve been playing with my pendulum here lately…I want a planchette necklace. Etsy has some lovely ones! I love resin jewelry.
In the meantime, I thank you all for actually reading my bullshit and liking/re-blogging my posts. I am happy to say I’ve finally made it past 300 followers. Thank you all, you’re all so beautiful. I appreciate you all putting up with me! ❤ ❤ ❤ Love you all. ❤ ❤ ❤
P.S.: Quick Fact: I hate Mondays and always have–even when I didn’t have school.
You thought the leaden winter Would bring you down forever But you rode upon a steamer To the violence of the sun
And the colours of the sea Bind your eyes with trembling mermaids And you touch the distant beaches With tales of brave Ulysses How his naked ears were tortured By the sirens sweetly singing For the sparkling waves are calling you To kiss their white laced lips
And you see a girl’s brown body Dancing through the turquoise And her footprints make you follow Where the sky loves the sea And when your fingers find her She drowns you in her body Carving deep blue ripples In the tissues of your mind
Tiny purple fishes Run laughing through your fingers And you want to take her with you To the hard land of the winter
Her name is Aphrodite And she rides a crimson shell And you know you cannot leave her For you touched the distant sands With tales of brave Ulysses How his naked ears were tortured By the sirens sweetly singing
Tiny purple fishes Run laughing through your fingers And you want to take her with you To the hard land of the winter
Teaching aid for “Ulysses”: the schooner “Rosevean”
Teaching aid for “Ulysses”: the schooner “Rosevean”
Walking along the beach at the end of the Proteus episode, Stephen sees “Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship” (3.503-05). That night, in Eumaeus, Stephen and Bloom meet one of the threemaster’s sailors, able-bodied seaman D. B. Murphy, who tells them, “We come up this morning eleven o’clock.…
À bout de souffle (Breathless) - Jean-Luc Godard (1960)
I just started posting reviews and I noticed that if someone based my website on the first two films I reviewed they’d think I was super super lame, so I thought I’d pull up one of my favourite films of all time, Jean-Luc Godard’s classic.
Breathless is one of the greatest films ever made in my opinion.
The character development is so different than other films. Godard doesn’t use dialogue and character history to make us feel something for the character, he just let’s us watch them; let’s us observe them when they’re alone.
Belmondo’s character even breaks the fourth wall and speaks to the audience, and it actually works really well. He’s a bit of a douchebag but I didn’t even mind, I still like him.
Godard breaks all of the conventions set for him by filmmakers at the time, and questions ’whyis the camera always supposed to be fixed on their face when they speak?’ and films however he feels will best suit his film. It’s like James Joyce’s use of punctuation and grammar towards the end of Ulysses. Godard was such a genius that he couldn’t even be subordinated by film conventions.
The scenes filmed in the public really were filmed in the public. As in, the supposed extras who are in the background are all looking directly into the camera, some stopping, pointing and looking at Belmondo and Seberg act. But it just adds a new, amazing dimension. Belmondo himself thought this film was so terrible, but it’s the fact that it’s different that makes it so fresh and calming.
I can’t even put into words how perfect this film is. Godard does not need a good plot line, he does not need film sets and perfect lighting and he does not need to follow the ‘rules’ of film. All he needs is a camera and to question why film had such conventions anyway.
There are some serious literary and artistic allusions, that were fun to pick up on too. Godard knows that the film has so many things that would be considered wrong and bad at the time, but he sees film outsider the boundaries of just being the same story with better and better sets. He is truly innovative. He focuses on so much over the plot that the film has such a unique dimension.
Entertaining,different (which I can never stress enough as being the key to a good film) and refreshing. Also you feel pretty damn cool watching it.
