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Saturday, January 06, 2018




  1. I take it you've read Ulysses. Joyce owned the word "epiphany" and one can't help feeling, given the awful religio/moral struggles he had with his mother, that the word was carefully chosen. That it acknowledges, among other things, the reason why it appears here without comment other than the photograph of a stained glass window. Ulysses, built up from many epiphanies, becomes one great and grand epiphany itself. I frequently hesitate referring to the novel because I worry about being seen as pretentious. And yet - what the heck - it is the ultimate expression for me of what a novel can do. And it easily encompasses our two polar-opposite states: a love of mystery and a yearning for explanations. I've read it either two or three times and understood little more than half, at best. It doesn't matter, the bit I do understand is a recognisable world of four dimensions. Two definitions seem to co-exist quite comfortably:

    1.The manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi.

    2. A moment of sudden and great revelation or realization.

    1. I often feel that I know you better after a comment. I would not have guessed Joyce to be a love or "Ulysses" to be your apex-of-novels. I'll have to think about that a while.

      I like both mystery and explanations. But I do find that a work of art that can be emptied of all mystery by explanations is a lesser work.


Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.