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Narrated by Wolfram Koch, Matthias Brandt, Peter Mati, Burghart Klaußner
James JoyceUnabridged — 38 hours, 10 minutes
Narrated by Wolfram Koch, Matthias Brandt, Peter Mati, Burghart Klaußner
James JoyceUnabridged — 38 hours, 10 minutes
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
"Ulysses will immortalize its author with the same certainty that Gargantua immortalized Rabelais, and The Brothers Karamazov immortalized Dostoyevsky.... It comes nearer to being the perfect revelation of a personality than any book in existence."
-The New York Times
"To my mind one of the most significant and beautiful books of our time."
-Gilbert Seldes, in The Nation
"Talk about understanding "feminine psychology"— I have never read anything to surpass it, and I doubt if I have ever read anything to equal it."
-Arnold Bennett
"In the last pages of the book, Joyce soars to such rhapsodies of beauty as have probably never been equaled in English prose fiction."
-Edmund Wilson, in The New Republic
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
| BN ID: | 2940174044241 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Der Hörverlag |
| Publication date: | 06/17/2013 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
| Language: | German |
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.
