A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Penguin Classics)
I understand this is regarded as "great", but I struggled. Just completely impossible to connect to. The lack of plot didn't help. The vivid hell section redeemed it for me, somewhat, but I wouldn't recommend this to anyone. At times it felt tortuous. It certainly has put me off attempting Ulysses anytime soon. And am I the only one that think it is ridiculous to have 600 notes over 276 pages? The constant turning to the back was frustrating (I don't know if this is different for other editions, mind).
While reading I couldn't help but think of a passage from [a:Bukowski|13275|Charles Bukowski|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/authors/1387554724p2/13275.jpg]'s [b:Hollywood|38505|Hollywood|Charles Bukowski|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1361998529s/38505.jpg|1195198]:
Maybe I undermined myself by quoting Bukowski, who knows?"Maybe he was a genius. I didn't want to get bitter about it. But I had had Genius pushed at me all through school...all those dullards...it all just laid on you like a slab of cement, and you wanted to get out and away, they were like heavy stupid parents insisting upon regulations and ways that would make even the dead cringe."
Maybe I just don't *get* it? (Or Joyce)
Play It As It Lays: A Novel
What exactly is the point to this novel? Trying my best to fathom something, but it's proving futile. Something about nothingness and the lack of meaning to human existence? I don't know. Was a very frustrating read. Would've given a worse rating, but it is well written. I just can't get to the point of it. Maybe I just don't *get* it..? Maybe one day I'll come to appreciate it, who knows?!