Ulysses

by James Joyce Narrated by Nathan Jordan, Maggie Russell

Overview

Ulysses is a modernist novel by Irish writer James Joyce. It was first serialized in parts in the American journal The Little Review from March 1918 to December 1920 and then published in its entirety in Paris by Sylvia Beach on 2 February 1922, Joyce's 40th birthday. It is considered one of the most important works of modernist literature and has been called "a demonstration and summation of the entire movement". According to Declan Kiberd, "Before Joyce, no writer of fiction had so foregrounded the process of thinking".
Ulysses chronicles the appointments and encounters of the itinerant Leopold Bloom in Dublin in the course of an ordinary day, 16 June 1904. Ulysses is the Latinised name of Odysseus, the hero of Homer's epic poem the Odyssey, and the novel establishes a series of parallels between the poem and the novel, with structural correspondences between the characters and experiences of Bloom and Odysseus, Molly Bloom and Penelope, and Stephen Dedalus and Telemachus, in addition to events and themes of the early 20th-century context of modernism, Dublin, and Ireland's relationship to Britain. The novel is highly allusive and also imitates the styles of different periods of English literature.
Since its publication, the book has attracted controversy and scrutiny, ranging from an obscenity trial in the United States in 1921 to protracted textual Joyce Wars. The novel's stream of consciousness technique, careful structuring, and experimental prose - replete with puns, parodies, and allusions - as well as its rich characterisation and broad humour have led it to be regarded as one of the greatest literary works in history; Joyce fans worldwide now celebrate 16 June as Bloomsday.

Editorial Reviews

New York Times Book Review

Ulysses is the most important contribution that has been made to fictional literature in the twentieth century. . . It is likely that there is no one writing English today that could parallel Mr. Joyce's feat, and it is also likely that few would care to do it were it capable. -- Books of the Century; New York Times review, May 1922

From the Publisher

"This edition, complete with an invaluable Introduction, map of Dublin, notes, and appendices, republishes for the first time, without interference, the original 1922 text."—In Dublin

"After more than seventy years of editorial corrections, specialists will buy the 'uncorrected' edition for its accuracy. Others should choose it as much for Johnson's excellent introduction and notes."—Tim Kendall, Notes and Queries

SEPTEMBER 2010 - AudioFile

ULYSSES, considered by many to be the preeminent novel of the modern era, has been recorded for audio before. But this new version, featuring narrator John Lee, has much to recommend it. Even though he’s English, Lee can summon up a convincing Irish accent, and his petulant reading gives the book a great deal of vigor. His pace is ideal, neither too fast to follow the complex novel nor too slow to be wearying. However, one problem plagues this reading: The monologue of Molly Bloom, which is the final chapter of the book, is read by Lee himself, rather than by a woman (as is the case in one other version). While Lee is certainly convincing, the lack of a female voice at the conclusion of this audiobook leaves this listener disappointed. K.M. © AudioFile 2010, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940178880012
Publisher:	Parolita Libro
Publication date:	11/01/2021
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:

—Introibo ad altare Dei.

Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:

—Come up, Kinch. Come up, you fearful jesuit.

Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding country and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.

Buck Milligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.

—Back to barracks, he said sternly.

He added in a preacher's tone:

—For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all. 

He peered sideways up and gave a long low whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm. 

—Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?

He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.

—The mockery of it, he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek.

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