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...
A well written short, basic biography of Joyce (obviously Ellman is essential for the full version of the life), most notable for its oversized pages full of wonderful, high quality pictures (125 of them) that really bring Joyce and his various environs/endeavors to life.
A little over 40 years ago I read James Joyce's "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" and the book made an extremely strong impression on me, then a young man but alas no artist. Since then, I have read substantial fragments of "Ulysses", many passages from "Finnegans Wake", and several stories from "The Dubliners" (quite recently the magnificent novella "The Dead", which I review here ). I have also read long excerpts of Richard Ellman's famous biography of Joyce, which I now want to read in its entirety.
Chester G. Anderson's biography "James Joyce" is much, much smaller in scope than the Ellman's work. Instead of over 800 pages, we have some 140 pages, almost half of which are used for wonderful photographs and illustrations (124 of them). Although this book may feel like a teaser for the real thing, I find it quite interesting and not at all shallow. For instance, Mr. Anderson writes about Joyce: "Looking intently at world through words and at words through his experience of the world, he needed to name everything in his experience". While having no literary talent whatsoever, I also look at the world through words rather than images, and I often find that one word is worth a thousand images.
Among other pearls of wisdom, the author twice mentions the quote "the past assuredly implies a fluid succession of presents" (from Joyce's 1904 essay). Then, towards the end, Mr. Anderson puts an exclamation mark on his work stating that Joyce could say to Samuel Beckett "I can do anything with language."
James Joyce was born only nine years before my grandmother. Had he been of better health, he could have been still alive when I was reading "A Portrait" in the early 1970s. But then, would he have anything left to write after "Finnegans Wake", which he finished in 1939 after dedicating to it 16 years of his life?
As many of you already know, I took a part time job at a Hallmark Card competitor. Thank you for the cards, well wishes, and, in one rare instance, the fresh airfreighted Atlantic salmon.
Life was decent at Hallmarkesque until some smartass decided to put me to work. In accordance to the smartass-created work order, I did my very best to leverage the thematic elements Bravado and Celebratory whilst creating two ultrafine card slogans, or manifestos, as we call them here at Hallmarkesque.
See if you can surmise which thematic element belongs with which:
You'll see what I mean when you see what I've seen.
It's the small things in life that really make you appreciate the small things in life.
Anyway, after a ten minute smoke break, upper management then called me into the board room and verbally deemed both slogans as too "...terse, astringent, and masculine." Further, upper management continued to state that both slogans contained "...the listless amiability of the English gentleman," which, as many of you already know, is explicitly stated in the Hallmarkesque company handbook as "...to be marginally avoided."
Hand forced, I ended up quitting my part time job at this Hallmark Card competitor right there on the spot so as not to bring Mr. Pussyfoot Johnson on the scene before his time.
[this book taught me that Hemingway smuggled copies of Ulysses into the USA by hiding them in his pants and I'm very grateful for that bit of knowledge]
جویس در خانوادهای متوسط در دوبلین به دنیا آمد. در مدرسه و دانشگاه، دانشآموزی با استعداد بود. در اوایل دههٔ سوم زندگی به اروپای قارهای مهاجرت کرد و در شهرهای تریسته، پاریس و زوریخ اقامت گزید. گرچه بخش بزرگی از زندگی او در بزرگسالی، بیرون از ایرلند گذشت، جهانِ پنداری او معطوف به دوبلین و ایرلند است و شخصیتهای کتابهایش از اعضای خانواده، دوستان و دشمنان او در زمان اقامتش در دوبلین الهام گرفته شده بود. در زمان کوتاهی پس از انتشار اولیس، خود او این مسئله را این گونه شفاف ساخت:
«در مورد خودم، من همیشه دربارهٔ دوبلین مینویسم. چرا که اگر بتوانم قلب دوبلین را تسخیر کنم، میتوانم وارد قلب تمام شهرهای جهان شوم.»
وی از ابتدای جوانی مخالف بی فرهنگی و دون مایگی دوبلین بود. در جوانی بسیار فرد مذهبی بود اما با گذشت زمان این مذهب را برای مأموریت ادبی که برای خود گماشته بود کنار گذاشت، مأموریتی که میدانست همراه با تبعید خود خواستهاست. وی بعد از پایان تحصیلات در سال ۱۹۰۲ دیگر به عنوان یک شخصیت تبعیدی بود به همین دلیل از کشور خارج شد و در پاریس مستقرشد. بیماری مرگبار مادرش بار دیگر او را به دوبلین فراخواند سپس وی به تریسته و زوریخ سفر کرد. وی در سال ۱۹۴۰ چشم از دنیا بست.