Status Updates From Finnegans Wake

‘Osso de Basco de pesco de bisco’ - can’t be read it must be spoken. Finnegans Wake is like scat

and sadder raven evermore

Joyce intentionally uses alternate words like meny for many. Are there several alternatives for one word? I will pay attention to that

I want to list here the many attributes of the writing. 1. alliteration

I’ve decided to engage more with the text. Is there no narrator, one narrator or multiple narrators? I ask because I can’t follow the story and it makes me wonder if a novel has no story is there narration and if not then is there a point of view? Another thing - is there just event and descriptions or are their opinions?

Upjack! I shudder for your thought! Think! Put from your mind that and take on trust this. The next word depends on your answer.

Not exceed the limits of language but test where the breaking point is for language to still be powerful and beautiful. With this book, I would say so far the power isn’t here but beauty is.

I’m currently reading this aloud one page a day. Joyce isn’t writing a narrative for people to follow. As far as I can tell he is most interested in all the possible sounds the English language can make even though many words aren’t English and some are made up words. One challenge it seems he posed for himself was, can I exceed the limit of language and still create something original and beautiful?

"Signs are on of a mere by token that wills still to be becoming upon this there once a here was world."

"Passing. One. We are passing. Two. From sleep we are passing. Three. Into the wikeawades warld from sleep we are passing. Four. Come, hours, be ours!"

"You will never have post in your pocket unless you have brasse on your plate."

"Bring us this days our maily bag."

"Poor little brittle magic nation, dim of mind!"

“Isobel, she is so pretty, truth to tell, wildwood's eyes and primarose hair, quietly, all the woods so wild, in mauves of moss and daphnedews, how all so still she lay, neath of the whitethorn, child of tree, like some losthappy leaf, like blowing flower stilled, as fain would she anon, for soon again 'twill be, win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me! deeply, now evencalm lay sleeping;”

Mattheehew, Markeehew, Lukeehew, Johnheehewheehew! Haw! And still a light moves long the river. And stiller the mermen ply their keg. Its pith is full. The way is free. Their lot is cast. So, to john for a john, johnajeams, led it be!

“Nircississies are as the doaters of inversion.”

“Ohur Former who erred in having down to gibbous disdag our darling breed.”

You'll have loss of fame from Wimmegame's fake. Forwards!

"His hearing is indoubting just as my seeing is onbelieving."

"Hastan the vista!"