Begad!, what a novel to have to write a review for!

Robert Anton Wilson got me interested in James Joyce.

Throughout "Ulysses" I had little notion as to the linear sequence of events, though as I progressed, I did become somewhat acclimated to the setting, characters, and their stories.

I was more fascinated by the seemingly subjective soliloquies; the potently magical meter; Joyce's amaranthine repertoire of words.

Like hallucinogens, truffles, and moon bathing, the experience of "Ulysses" is quite hard to put into words.

I argue that the story of Bloomsday—that so many annotations, critiques, study guides, etcetera, elaborate on—is not the most important thing to understand. It is the way in which the story is told that is important to experience, and that in itself is widely varied and extremely 'novel'.

During much of the novel I experienced a great number of synchronicities in waking life. This is likely, in part, due to the immense number of subjects divulged upon in "Ulysses".

"Ulysses" could easily be a novel in which one could study... quite a very long time. If you are one of such mind, I suggest picking up several foreign language dictionaries to aide you in your reading of "Ulysses". As I mentioned, there is a plethora of books to go along with "Ulysses". I own a few and may even read one one day, should I get bored.

In the end, I feel a bit saddened. Leopold Bloom and Stephen Dedalus, consumed by their intellects, plagued by their desires. Molly, consumed by her desires and too stupid to be plagued by anything but hemorrhoids and old age...

Life is tragic. James Joyce died of a perforated ulcer, lapsing into a coma after surgery, to wake, and die at 2 a.m. on 13 January 1941. Why are we here? To evolve intellectually, sexually, spiritually? Yes.

Read this novel and be affected greatly in a mysterious way and an obvious way. ( )