That’s right, I’m reading Ulysses, as per New Year’s Resolution #13.
I don’t really care for James Joyce, especially after reading those crazy love letters he wrote his wife, and rereading Ulysses isn’t doing much to remedy that.
It’s like those grueling middle school English Lit classes, reading abridged Shakespeare (always Romeo and Juliet, and without a smidgen of irony!) and knowing that this is probably necessary and despite feeling vaguely embarrassed for the stupid decisions of unlikable characters, you have to do it.
So it is out of obligation rather than pleasure that I’m taking on Ulysses, which I’m torn about because frankly I’m not sure I’ll get it this time around either.
Save me, Frank Delaney!