Ulysses: A Drama in a Prologue & Three Acts

by Stephen Phillips

This book was originally published prior to 1923, and represents a reproduction of an important historical work, maintaining the same format as the original work. While some publishers have opted to apply OCR (optical character recognition) technology to the process, we believe this leads to sub-optimal results (frequent typographical errors, strange characters and confusing formatting) and does not adequately preserve the historical character of the original artifact. We believe this work is culturally important in its original archival form. While we strive to adequately clean and digitally enhance the original work, there are occasionally instances where imperfections such as blurred or missing pages, poor pictures or errant marks may have been introduced due to either the quality of the original work or the scanning process itself. Despite these occasional imperfections, we have brought it back into print as part of our ongoing global book preservation commitment, providing customers with access to the best possible historical reprints. We appreciate your understanding of these occasional imperfections, and sincerely hope you enjoy seeing the book in a format as close as possible to that intended by the original publisher.

184 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1902

Reviews

[Esdaile · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is dated in its language, which is to say that the poetry uses words which were probably at the time of writing archaic but which were considered suitably poetic by Georgian poets, but the play has great verve. I could imagine this very easily as an opera. The lines are often very peotical and quite haunting:

"I'll drift no more upon the dreary sea.
No yearning have I now, and no desire."

That sounds like Tristan does it not?

Home is "fair faint place"

Even if the language arguably is dated, the sentiments are not: yearning for the lost homeland, the islands of the blessed, that is not dated. It constitutes the destructive sometimes carcegine brooding of the Nordic (one dare not use the "A word" dare one?) soul.