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Overview
Winner of Spain's National Comic Prize and published to acclaim in Ireland, here is an extraordinary graphic biography of James Joyce that offers a fresh take on his tumultuous life. With evocative anecdotes and hundreds of ink-wash drawings, Alfonso Zapico invites the reader to share Joyce's journey, from his earliest days in Dublin to his life with his great love, Nora Barnacle, and their children, and his struggles and triumphs as an artist.
Joyce experienced poverty, rejection, censorship, charges of blasphemy and obscenity, war, and crippling ill-health. A rebel and nonconformist in Dublin and a harsh critic of Irish society, he left Ireland in self-imposed exile with Nora, moving to Paris, Pola, Trieste, Rome, London, and finally Zurich. He overcame monumental challenges in creating and publishing Dubliners, Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, Ulysses, and Finnegan's Wake. Along the way, he encountered a colorful cast of characters, from the Irish nationalists Charles Parnell and Michael Collins to literary greats Yeats, Proust, Hemingway, and Beckett, and the likes of Carl Jung and Vladimir Lenin.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781628726589 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Arcade |
| Publication date: | 05/03/2016 |
| Sold by: | SIMON & SCHUSTER |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 240 |
| File size: | 102 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
| Age Range: | 16 - 18 Years |
About the Author
Alfonso Zapico, born in Blimea in Asturias, Spain, is a storyteller and freelance illustrator who has published several graphic works, including the novel Café Budapest, which won the Josep Toutain Prize at the 2010 Barcelona International Comic Fair. He spent months in Dublin and other of Joyce's home cities researching James Joyce: Portrait of a Dubliner, which won Spain's National Comic Prize in 2012. He lives in Angoulême, France.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Joyce Family
James Joyce I
James Joyce's great grandfather was born in Cork in the early nineteenth century. His turbulent life was marked by his membership of the Whiteboys, a group of anti-landlord, Catholic agitators. He was sentenced to death for this, though the sentence was later annulled. A lucky man, this early Joyce.
His descendants inherited his passionate nationalism, along with a deep contempt for the clergy and an inability to run any kind of business. This last trait was clearly manifested by all the later Joyces.
In 1835,Joyce obtained the licence to exploit a salt and lime mine near Cork. This was a profitable, prosperous business, but by 1852 he was completely bankrupt.
James Joyce II
Joyce's son was a know-it-all. When he was twenty-one, he married Ellen O'Connell, from Cork's richest and most powerful family. From then on, he devoted himself to playing the Irish gentleman and hobnobbing with high society, until his business affairs fell apart and he declared himself bankrupt. His in-laws helped him to get a modest job as an inspector for Hackney Coaches, a position he held till his death in 1866.
John Joyce
James' father hada complex personality, and the same kind of genius for which his son would become famous. He was a good student, a champion jumper, an excellent shot, a great cross-country runner and a marvellous singer and actor. John's handicap was his wealth of talents, which ultimately led him to failure. His youthful recklessness forced his mother to move to Dublin, in the hope that her unusual son would settle down and find honest employment. Instead of this, John bought himself a sailing boat and spent his time sailing around Dalkey.
John Joyce allowed himself to be conned by a Cork man into buying a distillery with him on the outskirts of Dublin.
John was no genius when it came to business, and one day he discovered that his partner had swindled him out of all of their funds. The Chapelizod Distilling Company was ruined.
But luck hadn't turned its back on the charismatic Joyce. John was a nationalist, andhe decided to devote himself to the politics of those turbulent years. In 1880 there was a general election.
He became secretary of the United Liberal Club, and campaigned for Brooks and Lyons, the two liberal candidates for Dublin. They were running against two conservatives: Jim Sterling and Guinness, the powerful beer magnate.
Brooks and Lyons were elected, and John was rewarded with a life-long post in the Dublin Tax Office.
Well set up socially and financially, John Joyce was now ready for marriage. He set his eyes on a young lady who sang with him in the Rathgar Church Choir.
May Murray, a young lady with blonde hair and infinite patience, soon felt attracted to the cheerful young man with the refined tenor voice. They formed the kind of couple that people would say were'made for each other'.
John Joyce's mother never spoke to her son again.
Of course, not everybody agreed. May's father and John's mother didn't approve of the relationship.
In the end the lovers did as they pleased. They were married in Rathmines Church on 5 May 1880.
Mr and Mrs Joyce were very happy together, even though they had no support from the Murray family. John detested his in-laws profoundly, and invented the most cruel and derogatory jokes and epithets to describe them.
He called John Murray, the patriarch, 'the old fornicator', because he had been married twice.
May's brothers William and John became 'the highly respectable gondoliers' or, respectively, 'the little drunken pen pusher' and 'the cornet player'. An accurate description of William, an accountant with a love for the drink, and John, who led a generally unfortunate life.
Then there was May's cousin, a priest who went mad and lost his parish.
John and May Joyce spent their time enthusiastically breeding children: on 2 February 1882, James Augustine Aloysius was born, followed by Margaret Alice ('Poppie') and Stanislaus in 1884, Charles Patrick in 1886, George Alfred in 1887, Eileen Isabel Mary in 1889 ...
May Kathleen in 1890, Eva Mary in 1891, Florence Elisabeth in 1892, and finally Mabel Josephine Anne ('Baby') in 1893. In total, four boys and six girls. You could say it was a large family.
John Joyce loved his firstborn most, as he saw his own talent and spontaneity reflected in his son's blue eyes. Hated by most of his other children, John never hid his preference for little Jim.
Jim returned his affection, perhaps conscious of the complexity of his father's character, which he shared to a large degree.
In 1882, the Joyce family lived in Rathgar, a suburb in south Dublin. But with so many children, the house soon became too small for them, and two years later they decided to move.
In early May they moved to Bray, a quiet neighbourhood by the sea.
Bray was well connected to Dublin by rail ...
... always sarcastic, John Joyce thought the price of the train ticket would be enough to keep his unwelcome in-laws at a distance.
The little house by the sea was a beautiful, healthy place, where the children grew up happily. That brief, golden time was full of games and laughter.
The contrast between the two eldest brothers was already noticeable: Jim was known as 'Smiling Jim', while the slightly younger, austere Stanislaus was called, not very affectionately, 'Brother John'.
The Joyces enjoyed playing the piano and singing together with their neighbour, the chemist James Vance. In the evenings, the cosy house would be full of music and song.
Jim made friends with the Vances' daughter Eileen.
But the Vances were Protestants. The Joyces' governess took it on herself to remind Jim that the friendship would lead to eternal damnation.
Conway, with her fire-and-brimstone sermons, caused Jim to feel panic whenever a storm broke out. In every bolt of lightning he saw the wrath of God coming for him. Jim was also scared of dogs, butthis was because a mutt had attacked him once when he was playing with his brother Stanislaus.
Clongowes Wood, September 1888.
By putting Jim into this Jesuit boarding school, John Joyce felt that he was giving his son a privileged education. But the six-year-old boy didn't see it that way.
James Aloysius had to cope with his fellow pupils' snobbishness. He dealt with it by using a little imagination.
In 1888, the British Crown exerted its power over Ireland through a policy of cultural, political and, of course, military repression.
But the island had an'uncrowned king': Charles Stewart Parnell, an Irish nationalist, leaderof the Irish Parliamentary Party in London. With his eighty-five MPs in the House of Commons, Parnell kept up a constant fight for self-governance for Ireland. However, 'Home Rule' did not flourish, and the fall of this great man would be a tragedy in two acts.
In 1892, the English Liberals and Conservatives, the Church, and even traitors within his own party were against Parnell.
The first plot against him came from the conservative press, who tried to link him to some political murders perpetrated in Phoenix Park. But Parnell stood firm.
The second attack came shortly after. Parnell had been in a relationship with a married woman, Kitty O'Shea, for over ten years.
Her husband, Captain O'Shea, had accepted the situation in exchange for a place as a Member of Parliament. But now things were different.
Ireland's Catholic Church, which loathed Parnell, took advantage of the situation to launch a fierce smear campaign against him.
The bishops pressed Tim Healy, Parnell's right-hand man, to hasten his fall. Healy, who defended his chief in public, harboured few qualms about the idea of a change in the party's leadership.
The British Prime Minister, William Gladstone, also pressed Healy to get rid of the 'adulterous sinner'. A pretty hypocritical stance, given that promiscuity and fox-hunting were the main hobbies of the British ruling class.
Finally the prey was brought down.
With all the infighting, the party fell apart three weeks later, and Parnell abandoned the political scene.
The 'uncrowned king' retired to his little kingdom of Avondale with his beloved Kitty. There he lived under a cloud of constant slander and defamation spewed out by the Catholic bishops.
The tragedy ended a year later, when Parnell died after an intense and painful illness. His death closed a chapter of Ireland's history, and opened a wound that would take years to heal. Many citizens believed their leader had died, not from his ailments, but from the terrible betrayal he had suffered.
One of these disenchanted citizens was John Joyce. With Parnell were also buried his political hopes and ideals, and his romantic vision of the heroic Ireland of bygone times.
The great leader's fall was reflected in Joyce's own decadence. He spent the long nights wandering from pub to pub, given over to drinking.
In order to meet his growing debts, Joyce had to sell his properties in Cork, thus blowing his inheritance.
Later he took out a mortgage to raise money, considerably reducing his pension.
As things got ever worse, he took out another mortgage. This led to the financial ruin of the family.
The Joyces all felt a deep connection between Parnell's catastrophe and their own misfortune.
Even little nine-year-old James, who wrote a poem commemorating the event. It was aimed at Tim Healy and those who had betrayed their leader.
Belvedere College, Dublin, 1895.
At that time, James Joyce's conduct was so exemplary and so spiritual that he was clearly on his way to sainthood.
His religious fervour was such that he was soon appointed prefect of the sodality of the Blessed Virgin. But the line between childhood and adolescence was starting to blur ...
One day, on his way home from a theatre performance of 'Sweet Briar' ...
After falling into the sins of the flesh, James couldn't hide the shame which tortured his conscience relentlessly ...
He soon aroused the suspicions of the headmaster, Father Henry, the scourge of sinners.
As it was impossible to talk to the closed-up James, the priest took a short cut.
Alarmed, the headmaster sent a brief note to James' mother, simply saying: 'Your son is straying from the path'
The cryptic letter gave no further details, and only increased Mrs Joyce's concerns.
Finally, her maternal instinct guessed the sin, but not the sinner: she sacked the maid, accusing her of perverting her son.
For his part, James lost not a jot of his spiritual purity after the event.
He continued saying his prayers as if possessed, and kept his position as prefect of the sodality of the Blessed Virgin.
But, in fact, he had come to realise that a heretical lifestyle was more manageable, and a lot more fun, than constant pangs of guilt.
In 1898, University College Dublin was the poor relative of Trinity. This small Catholic university received no support from the British government.
George Clancy was one of Joyce's inner circle of friends. A fervent nationalist, he played hurling and was a member of the Gaelic League. He even convinced Jim to take Gaelic classes for a while (though Jim was not really interested in the Irish question).
Clancy later became mayor of Limerick, and was murdered in 1921 by the Black and Tans (the pro-British paramilitary militia).
Francis Skeffington, considered by Joyce the cleverest student in University College (after himself, of course). Cultured, vegetarian, a pacifist and a defender of equal rights between the sexes, he even adopted his wife's surname when they married.
Such a utopian character was doomed to come to a dramatic end, and it came during the 1916 Easter Rising.
Thomas Kettle was a Catholic nationalist intellectual, and though his views on Ireland differed from Joyce's, they were good friends.
When the Great War broke out in 1914, Kettle volunteered for the British Army, believing that the British would reward the Irish volunteers by granting independence. He fell in battle in France in 1916.
Constantine Curran was a good-natured, moderate young man, much admired by Joyce. He had a great knowledge of literature and architecture, and later became a Supreme Court registrar.
His travels to the continent gave him a wider, European vision of the world; but he was so devout that religion overcame his reason, and he ended up with a typical Irishman's prejudices and hang-ups.
John Francis Byrne was Joyce's best friend. Simple and quiet, he was a talented sportsman, clever, but a hopeless student. He spent summers on his Wicklow farm, which puzzled his city friends. Byrne and Joyce were fascinated by each other, and Byrne's distinguished silence was a perfect complement to Joyce's shameless chatter.
Vincent Cosgrave completed Joyce's circle of friends. He was proudly ignorant, vulgar and simple. Joyce wasn't particularly close to him, but he could always be counted on to go drinking or whoring at night. Cosgrave was destined to be a mediocre, resentful failure. As the years passed he became more and more bitter. He came to a sudden end in London: his body was found floating in the Thames. He had probably committed suicide.
CHAPTER 2The Young Rebel
Between 1898 and 1900, the Joyces moved house eight times. Their debts took them to Windsor Avenue ...
... to Convent Avenue ...
... to Richmond Avenue ...
... to Royal Terrace, and onwards.
Even the shopkeeper, to whom they owed a lot of money, grudgingly allowed them credit in the hope of getting his money one day.
Fed up with the financial mess, James' sister, Margaret, decided to put some order into the chaos.
With much effort, she convinced her father to give up drinking and to start a new, more virtuous life.
John Joyce decided to give himself another chance: he settled his debts in the shop, determined to start again from scratch.
But once he had got his money, the shopkeeper never allowed that family of parasites into his shop again.
So John Joyce went back to the drink, swearing that he would never pay another debt in his life. He kept his word.
Meanwhile, young James was leading a dissolute life in the company of the pernicious Cosgrave.
But his life was to change radically and unexpectedly, after writing an article in 1900 for a Dublin literary magazine called the 'Fortnightly Review'. It was a critique of a play by Ibsen.
The magazine was published and distributed as usual.
But a copy of it reached the Norwegian town of Kristiania, where it ended up in the hands of Henrik Ibsen himself.
Pleased with the young Irishman's text, Ibsen wrote a letter to Archer, the publisher of the magazine.
Archer contacted Joyce. It was a huge surprise!
When Joyce read Ibsen's letter, he almost doubled in stature. Not in height, but in pride and self-confidence.
In contrast to the general apathy in Ireland, the literary scene in Dublin in 1902 was ambitious and vibrant. There was a new generation of lively young writers, such as Padraic Colum, Seamus O'Sullivan, Standish O'Grady and John O'Leary, along with the veteran Synge. James Joyce formed no part of the movement, but he would benefit from it in the future.
The literary 'heavyweights' at that time were:
WB Yeats, who had just founded the Abbey Theatre and the Irish National Theatre Company. Yeats was the author of the acclaimed 'Countess Cathleen', and a champion of the Irish literary revival.
Isabella Augusta Gregory, known as 'Lady Gregory', was a brilliant playwright. Like Yeats, her works were devoted to themes of nationalism, folklore and Celtic culture (this was unusual, coming from an Anglo-Irish aristocrat).
George Moore was already an established novelist, poet, art critic and playwright. His plays contributed to the cultural movement led by Lady Gregory and Yeats.
Finally, George Russell, writer, painter and art critic. Russell, despite his nationalism, was the writer who Joyce most admired at the time; he was also the most approachable. He was to be James' link to the cultural world of Dublin.
To gain access to this closed circle, Joyce decided to wait outside Russell's house one night.
When Russell finally appeared ...
After a long talk with Joyce (who spent his time tearing all the contemporary Irish writers to shreds), Russell was impressed both by his poems and his bad manners. He wrote to Yeats, asking him to 'suffer' Joyce.
The much awaited meeting took place on Yeats' return from London. It was certainly an evening to remember.
After graduation, Joyce showed no interest in any specific career. He didn't fancy going into the civil service, practising law or becoming as academic. He spent his days in the streets of Dublin, watching the grass grow.
One day he made up his mind, though without much conviction.
He wasn't keen on the Faculty of Medicine in Dublin, so Joyce decided to enroll in the one in Paris. As was his way, he didn't bother to find out if a French qualification would be valid in Ireland. He just packed his bag, and on 1 December 1902 he left Ireland for the first time.
Paris was a terribly expensive city for an Irish student with no means. Giving English classes didn't seem a good idea to him, and he wasn't good at managing his money.
Whenever his father managed to scrape a few pounds together to send him, James quickly blew it on French wine, theatre and opera.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "James Joyce"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Alfonso Zapico.
Excerpted by permission of Skyhorse Publishing.
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