This carefully crafted ebook: "The Complete Poetry of James Joyce" is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. Chamber Music is a collection of poems by James Joyce, originally composed of thirty-four love poems. Although it is widely reported that the title refers to the sound of urine tinkling in a chamber pot, this is a later Joycean embellishment, lending an earthiness to a title first suggested by his brother Stanislaus and which Joyce had come to dislike: "The reason I dislike Chamber Music as a title is that it is too complacent." Pomes Penyeach is a collection of thirteen short poems written by James Joyce. It was written over a twenty-year period from 1904 to 1924. Although paid scant attention on its initial publication, this slender volume has proven surprisingly durable, and a number of its poems continue to appear in anthologies to this day. James Joyce (1882-1941) was an Irish novelist and poet, considered to be one of the most influential writers in the modernist avant-garde of the early 20th century. Content: Chamber Music Pomes Penyeach Hue's Hue? or Dalton's Dilemma Buy a book in brown paper As I was going to Joyce Saint James' Father O'Ford Humptydump Dublin squeaks through his norse Pennipomes Twoguineaseach Pour la rîme seulement A Portrait of the Artist as an Ancient Mariner Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty Goodbye Zürich, I must leave you O, it is cold and still—alas! She is at peace where she is sleeping There was a kind lady called Gregory There was a young priest named Delaney There is a weird poet called Russell Have you heard of the admiral There once was a Celtic librarian I said: I will go down to where Though we are leaving youth behind The flower I gave rejected lies O, there are two brothers, the Fays C'era una volta, una bella bambina Dear, I am asking a favour The Holy Office Gas from a Burner There is a young gallant named Sax Claude Sykes Solomon Now let awhile my messmates be ...
James Joyce was an Irish novelist, poet, and a pivotal figure in 20th-century modernist literature, renowned for his highly experimental approach to language and narrative structure, particularly his pioneering mastery and popularization of the stream-of-consciousness technique. Born into a middle-class Catholic family in the Rathgar suburb of Dublin in 1882, Joyce spent the majority of his adult life in self-imposed exile across continental Europe—living in Trieste, Zurich, and Paris—yet his entire, meticulous body of work remained obsessively and comprehensively focused on the minutiae of his native city, making Dublin both the meticulously detailed setting and a central, inescapable character in his literary universe. His work is consistently characterized by its technical complexity, rich literary allusion, intricate symbolism, and an unflinching examination of the spectrum of human consciousness. Joyce began his published career with Dubliners (1914), a collection of fifteen short stories offering a naturalistic, often stark, depiction of middle-class Irish life and the moral and spiritual paralysis he observed in its inhabitants, concluding each story with a moment of crucial, sudden self-understanding he termed an "epiphany." This collection was followed by the highly autobiographical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), a Bildungsroman that meticulously chronicled the intellectual and artistic awakening of its protagonist, Stephen Dedalus, who would become Joyce's recurring alter ego and intellectual stand-in throughout his major works. His magnum opus, Ulysses (1922), is universally regarded as a landmark work of fiction that fundamentally revolutionized the novel form. It compressed the events of a single, ordinary day—June 16, 1904, a date now globally celebrated by literary enthusiasts as "Bloomsday"—into a sprawling, epic narrative that structurally and symbolically paralleled Homer's Odyssey, using a dazzling array of distinct styles and linguistic invention across its eighteen episodes to explore the lives of Leopold Bloom, his wife Molly Bloom, and Stephen Dedalus in hyper-minute detail. The novel's explicit content and innovative, challenging structure led to its initial banning for obscenity in the United States and the United Kingdom, turning Joyce into a cause célèbre for artistic freedom and the boundaries of literary expression. His final, most challenging work, Finnegans Wake (1939), pushed the boundaries of language and conventional narrative even further, employing a dense, dream-like prose filled with multilingual puns, invented portmanteau words, and layered allusions that continues to divide and challenge readers and scholars to this day. A dedicated polyglot who reportedly learned several languages, including Norwegian simply to read Ibsen in the original, Joyce approached the English language not as a fixed entity with rigid rules, but as a malleable medium capable of infinite reinvention and expression. His personal life was marked by an unwavering dedication to his literary craft, a complex, devoted relationship with his wife Nora Barnacle, and chronic, debilitating eye problems that necessitated numerous painful surgeries throughout his life, sometimes forcing him to write with crayons on large white paper. Despite these severe physical ailments and financial struggles, his singular literary vision remained sharp, focused, and profoundly revolutionary. Joyce passed away in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1941, shortly after undergoing one of his many eye operations. Today, he is widely regarded as perhaps the most significant and challenging writer of the 20th century. His immense, complex legacy is robustly maintained by global academic study and institutions such as the James Joyce Centre in Dublin, which ensures his complex, demanding, and utterly brilliant work endures, inviting new generations of readers to explore the very essence of what it means to be hum
Şiirlerin orjinal dili olan İngilizcenin aynı şekilde sol tarafta durması ve yanına Türkçesinin eklendiği b kitaptı. Orjinal dilinin olması beni mutlu etti çünkü, aşk dolu şiirlerindeki duygu yoğunluğunu Türkçede hissedemedim. İngilizcede daha güzeldi. Çok yalın ve sade anlatımı vardı. Öfke ve intikam dolu satırlarını görünce şaşırdım. İlk defa bir şiirde, dönemin diğer yazar ve şairlerine eleştiri yaparken böylesine nefret gördüm. Bunu şiirde hissetmek değişikti. 😂 Kitabı sevdim. 4/5
Okuduğum ilk James Joyce eseri. Ulysses'i okumaya niyetlenmiş, okuyamamıştım. Sanırım nesirde epey farklı bir üslubu olacak ki her yerde karşıma "Ulysses üslubu"na göndermeler çıkmakta (bu eserin önsözü de dahil olmak üzere). Fakat çevirmenin de uyardığı gibi şiirlerde Joyce farkını pek göremiyoruz. Lirik şekilde kaleme alınmış bir şiir demeti sadece elimizdeki kitap. Yayıncılarla arasındaki gerilimi dile getirdiği birkaç hiciv şiiri de vardı fakat isimlere oldukça yabancı olduğum için dipnotlardaki takviyeye karşın pek bir şey anladığımı söyleyemem. Yazar olarak Joyce'u bir kenara bırakıp kişi olarak Joyce'a baktığımızda ise sarışınlara karşı müthiş zaafı olan bir bekaret avcısı çıkıyor karşımıza. Kızları, bakireleri çok seviyor. Bakire kızlara ise bayılıyor. Bakire kızlardan daha çok sevdiği bir şey varsa o da şu; sarışın bakire kızlar.
Pek beğenmedim. Id / Es sınırlarını aşamamış bir erkeğin erotizme güdümlü günlüğü gibi bir şeydi.
İngilizce'yi ustalıkla evirip çeviren bir yazarın şiirlerini çevirebilmek pek mümkün değil. Bu yüzden bu kitapları çeviri okumak büyük sıkıntı. Bu baskıda sol sayfalarda orijinal dilinde şiirler de mevcut olsa da benim ingilizce seviyemin üstünde bir gramer ve kelime bilgisi istiyordu o yüzden o büyüye bir türlü kapılamadım.
Şiirler güzel kötü değil elbette ama bizi yakalaması çok zor bir eser bu derleme şiir kitabı. Joyce çok zor bir yazar. Düzyazıları da zordu, bu da başka türlü zor. Enteresan bir iş. Ne yapalım böylesi bir yazarı tam manasıyla içselleştirebilme şansı da İrlanda halkına kalsın artık. Biz elimizden geldiği kadar anlamaya yine çalışırız.
This probably would not have survived if it wasn't Joyce who wrote it but it's still a comfy curiosity you can finish over the course of a single cup of tea while hungover.
Δύσκολες αυτές οι κριτικές, όταν διαβάζεις κάτι και περιμένεις κάτι άλλο ειδικά από έναν συγγραφέα που με τον καιρό έχει πάρει άθελά σου την μορφή ίσως μιας συγγενικης φιγουρας... Αλλά υποθέτω πως η αμερόληπτες κρίσεις μερικές φορές κρύβουν και τις πιο δύσκολες κρίσεις. Πρόκειται ίσως για την αδιασειστη απόδειξη ότι ένας αυστηρά πεζογραφος είναι πολύ πεζός για την ποίηση. Ακόμα και η θεματολογία των ποιημάτων του, κρύβει μια επιτηδευση που προσπαθεί να βγάλει μια υποχρέωση. Δεν είδα κάποιο ιδιαίτερο βάθος (καμία σχέση με Eliot δηλαδή) ο οποίος αν και μεγάλος θαυμαστής του Οδυσσέα, επεκρινε και αυτός και ο Pound την προσωρινή στροφή του Joyce στην ποίηση, αφήνοντας ένα μεγάλο ερωτηματικό σε αυτήν την επιλογή του. Όχι άδικα. Και μάλλον εδώ κάπου βρίσκεται και η τρανταχτη διαφορά μεταξύ ποιητή και πεζογραφου, και ίσως η δύναμη της ίδιας της ποίησης. Η ποίηση μας δείχνει ξανά και ξανά ότι είναι φτιαγμένη σαν ένα δυναμωτικο σφηνακι συναισθηματος και τέχνης που είναι σχεδιασμένο να σε κάψει με την ένταση του , ενώ η πεζογραφία είναι ένα μπουκάλι καλό πεπαλαιωμενο κρασί που απολαμβάνεις και εκτιμάς με τον καιρό . Ο ποιητής οφείλει να γράφει περισσότερο με την καρδιά, ενώ ο πεζογραφος με το μυαλό !
Selamat tinggal, selamat tinggal, selamat tinggal Ucapkan selamat tinggal pada masa lajang Nikmat bercinta datang menggoda Seiring kau mencumbu rayu Lepaskan sekat yang selama ini kau jaga Dan jaring yang tutupi rambut kuningmu Tiap kali ada yang sebut namanya Kau bak mendengar serunai malaikat Maka kau mulai menyerah Menyodorkan ranum payudaramu Dan membuka jaring rambutmu Pertanda akhir masa dara
Ko izgubi slavu, a ne nađe Dušu s njegovom da se združi, Među zlobnicima pun gneva, svađe Plemenitosti drevnoj služi, Bez pratilaca, samoj u svemu Njegova ljubav je saputnik njemu.
~ Ovo je najkraća pesma u sviti. Prvobitno je naslovljena “Nora” i trebalo je da njom započne knjiga. Prijatelji lirskog subjekta su sada njegovi neprijatelji. Ipak, on zaržava dostojanstvo pošto se umesto prijatelja pojavljuje saputnica.
ولم أكن أحسب أن جيمس جويس قد يكتب شعرا، لكني فوجئت بأن له شعرا، غنائيا عذبا، يختال حبا، وسبب اعتقادي أن نثره صعب منغلق، ذو تراكيب غريبة يسمونها تراكيب (جويسية) نسبة إليه، وجويس يحتاج لصبر وأنت تقرأ نثره، ف(ناس من دبلن) ثقيلة علي الروح، لا يكمل قراءتها إلا صبور و(عوليس) كذلك، تصيب بالهلاوس وأنت تقرؤها
It’s easy to see why Joyce isn’t remembered as a poet—for one, the sum total of his published poetry clocks in at 63 pages of rather short poems. But it’s interesting to see what he did produce, which boils down to two distinctly different collections plus a separately collected singleton to close the book.
CHAMBER MUSIC is the first collection, and the title matches the tone. (Set aside that the title reportedly refers to the tinkling sounds of piss reverberating up from a chamber pot.) These are formal rhyming poems each assigned a solemn Roman numeral, and they are mostly about music or love, or music and love. Joyce clearly has a good ear, but most of these feel like trifles; the language feels light and airy, smooth-flowing and musical, but the impact is ephemeral. No dagger wound to the heart for the first chunk of the book—the best you’ll get is a glancing blow. Things shift unexpectedly towards the end of the collection, as I gather these last were written later and appended to later publications; praise be, because they cut much deeper than their predecessors. The final poem, XXXVI, feels like an abdication of theme, but it’s the best one by a mile:
I hear an army charging upon the land, And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees: Arrogant in black armour, behind them stand, Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.
They cry unto the night their battle-name: I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter. They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame, Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon the anvil.
They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair: They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore. My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair? My love, my love, my love, why have you left me alone?
I’m terrible at articulating why I like any given poem, or what the poet is actually doing on a technical level, who or what’s being referenced, or what anything even means—but this one strikes me as sublime. (Yeats apparently agreed, calling it a “technical and emotional masterpiece.”)
POMES PENYEACH: the meat of the book for me, though it’s over before you know it. These were written much later, and apparently rejected for publication by Ezra Pound. Still, they feel darker and deeper, still tethered to traditional forms for the most part, but somehow unshackled. Nothing in this book really captures the tone or feel of Joyce’s fiction, but this collection at least feels more Joycean to me, and much more distinct and memorable than Chamber Music. Also, you can read it in 15 minutes or so, which I quite appreciate.
ECCE PUER: a single poem on a single page, with a heading all to itself. It’s short, sharp, and rather dark, and it closes the book in an altogether different place than where we began.
Overall: a fine collection, and an interesting look at a different side of Joyce’s creative life.
Kitabın aynı zamanda çevirmeni de olan Osman Çakmakçı, kitabın başında Joyce için "Gerçi Joyce'un düzyazısının yenilikçiliği (...) eserlerini orijinalinden okuma şansını bulamamış okurlar için kulaktan dolmadır, denilebilir. Bilinçakışı yönteminin doruğuna çıktığı bu eserlerin Türkçeye çevrilmesi de neredeyse imkansızdır. Hal böyle olunca, Joyce, ülkemizde, çevresinde örülü mitsel ışık halesinin içine hapsolmuş, dokunulmaz ve deyim yerindeyse, gerçekdışı bir yazar konumundadır." tespitini yapıyor. Şapka çıkarıyorum, ayakta alkışlıyorum kendisini.
Türkiye İş Bankası Yayınları'nın, eserin boyutu kitap olamayacak kadar kısaysa hem Türkçe hem de orijinal dildeki metni birleştirip yayımlamasını çok defalar eleştirdiğimi, yazdığım incelemeleri takip eden arkadaşlar bilirler. İlk kez bu uygulamanın faydalı bir örneğine rastladım. Joyce'un şiirlerini İngilizcelerinden okuma şansım oldu böylelikle.
Çeviri başka incelemelerde eleştirilmiş, açıkçası ikisini birlikte okuyup karşılaştırırken benim de beğenmediğim kısımlar oldu ama bunun canınızı sıkacağını zannetmem. Nasılsa herkes İngilizce biliyor değil mi? Değil mi? Şaka bir tarafa çeviri bence genel olarak gayet iyiydi.
Sorun şiirlerin kendisiydi. Joyce'un şiiri ve onun kaynağını aldığı lirik akım benim hayatım boyunca sevebileceğimi sanmadığım bir tarz. Belki bana hitap etmemiştir. Belki anlayamamışımdır. Belki de yalnızca iyi yazamamıştır. Zira kitabın basımından çok sonra "bu şiirlerin yayımlanmasından utanç duyduğunu" itiraf etmiş kendisi de.
Belki de bir şiir kitabını okumak için en iyi sebep "Yazarını sonradan bu kadar utandıracak şiirlerin içinde ne olabilir?" sorusuna cevap aramaktır. Merak ediyorsanız buyurun.
El tono a ratos excesivamente romántico (para mí gusto) me prohibió de disfrutar tanto de Chamber Music, una colección que el mismo Joyce admitió en su momento se trataba de "un libro de un hombre joven". Bonita escritura pero no me cautiva del todo tanto anhelo de amor. Aún así hay un buen puñado de buenos pasajes.
Los dos famosos poemas agregados en ediciones posteriores ("All day I hear the noise of waters" y "I hear an army charging upon the land") parecen un salto cuántico que no le hace un gran servicio a los poemas que le prosiguieron. Son lo mejor de Collected Poems, y un excelente hilo conductor para lo que viene.
Pomes Penyeach, una colección de poemas inicialmente rechazados por Ezra Pound, tiene una escritura algo más abstracta, y pareciera encontrar cierta trascendencia en los pequeños momentos con una simpleza que sólo la puede dar la disciplina y la edad. "Ecce Puer" cierra el libro, casi como un bonus track de cd que viene a participar más para llenar tiempo que por la cohesión con el resto del álbum. Sin embargo, en su totalidad, el libro tiene una bella musicalidad y ocasional juego con el lenguaje, siempre en poemas cortos y contenidos. Cumple con lo único que le pido a la poesía (y a las artes en general, quizás): que sea estimulante, y que me deje masticando algunos versos en mi memoria.
Ama çeviriden pek emin olamadım. Çünkü mesela pagan'ı cidden zındık diye mi çevirmeliydi? Bence iyiki ingilizcelerini yanlarına koymuşlar, paralel okuyarak gitmeye çalıştım.
"Artık gözyaşı olmayacak senin için."
"Take me, save me, soothe me, o spare me!"
Genel olarak beğendim, aşk ile ilgili olmasını sevdim. Gündemsel meselelerle ilgili şeyler olsa sıkılırdım, James amca beni çok sevindirdi, çok içime işledi.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Bay Joyce'la bir şekilde yıldızlarımızın barışacağını biliyordum, sonunda vardık oraya. Yarım bıraktığım Ulysses ve her hikayenin yarım kaldığını düşündüğüm Dublinliler'den sonra, Oda Müziği ile gayet tamamlanmış hissediyorum. Meğer benim gönlüme şair olarak taht kuracakmış sevgili James Joyce! Kızgın ve kırgın yazdığı şiirler bile nasıl zarif, yürü be aslan Joyce! Mutlaka okuyun, tavsiyemdir. =)
Definitely not my style of poetry. Glad it wasn’t chock full of references I didn’t get though. Generally too formal for me, and not drawn to classic love poetry. Glad it’s such a short collection. Of the poems I did like, my favorites were:
If you’re looking for edgy, regular Joyce-ean literature, look elsewhere. At least, for the most part. There is some word play here, but this is almost entirely old school poetry. ABAB, etc. Honestly, i enjoyed it. There’s a very song-like quality to a lot of these (as Syd Barrett proved), a simplicity that makes them easy to conjure in the imagination. At least, it did for me.
A lot of love poems, but still well worth the read for the die hard fan.