Putting an author's biography together with pictures is always a pleasing project, as if we are leaning over the shoulder of the photographer and vicariously sharing a moment with the original man, borrowing a bit of his place if not his time. In this case, Anderson has composed a pared down but still familiar--even occasionally chatty--life of Joyce that gains vitality from the pictures, of which this author is responsible for quite a bunch. Anderson's knowledge of Joyce's work, even the very daunting Finnegans Wake, adds further to the immersion, so by the end of this quick jaunt we are more intimate with the man and his life and times.
One bit of information that I was not familiar with, and am very glad to know now, is that his daughter, Lucia, suffered from schizophrenia and was dependent on quite a number of sanatoria to take care of her through her life. Anderson points out the obvious similarities between the genius writer father and his disordered daughter: "Their psyches were strangely alike, even in some of their deviations from the 'normal', at the same time as they were radically different. As Jung put it, they were both going to the bottom of a river, but Lucia was falling and Joyce was diving. What might seem to may to be 'mental abnormality' in Joyce's writings, Jung said in 1932, 'may also be a kind of mental health which is inconceivable to the average understanding" (123). That's one way to look at it. If we can't understand Joyce (especially in Finnegan), it's because he is operating at another level of thinking and perceiving and expressing. Of course, the same could be said of any inaccessible schizophrenic. One man's genius is another man's raving lunatic. Syd Barrett was the creative force behind Pink Floyd until he wasn't and relegated himself to "crazy diamond" status forever. This is a provocative point, and one that is much weightier than it seems at first glance. How crazy do we have to be to engage with James Joyce? Hmm...