Eamonn Fitzgerald's Rainy Day

It's Bloomsday! Which means it's time for the annual celebration of James Joyce's literary panorama, Ulysses. The novel is an account of the adventures of advertising salesman Leopold Bloom on 16 June 1904 in Dublin, and the main characters — Leopold and Molly Bloom, and Stephen Dedalus — correspond to Homer's Odysseus (Ulysses), Penelope and Telemachus, while each of the 18 chapters matches one of Odysseus's adventures.

Mythology, philosophy, religion, symbolism, social realism, linguistics, sexuality and, above all, humanity are to be found in Ulysses. And that's the problem. The book has developed such a reputation as the fountainhead of fiction that many readers are afraid of tackling it, in case they might fail to understand it. Too much! Too much! says the neophyte confronted with the tsunami of language and the mass of Dublin detail. A pity, this, as familiarity with Joyce's world is not necessary to enjoy the book, and the music and humour of the language are astonishing. Persist, and before long you'll be weeping at Dignam's funeral (chapter 6); whoring with Bloom in Nighttown (chapter 15), and climaxing with Molly in chapter 18.

Still unconvinced? Then try Ulysses for Dummies, a bare-bones, hyper-linked and hyper-active version of Joyce's masterpiece. Eight years ago, an English outfit called From Hunger, created this animated exegesis of the book as a favour to the world, and what did they earn for their pains? Nasty litigation, that's what. And in light of that, it might be prudent at this point if I were to add a disclaimer of sorts here, in case the lawyers come after me:

Ulysses for Dummies is a parody of both James Joyce's novel Ulysses and the IDG Books series of publications which are protected by trademark. IDG Books has not given authorization for this title, nor is it associated in any way with the IDG Books series "... for Dummies."

Back to Bloomsday. Next year we'll all be celebrating the Bloomsday centenary. The Bloomsday 100 Festival site is up and running and, who knows, we might meet in Dublin then and discuss matters Joycean over a wine of the country. Meanwhile, an excerpt to stimulate the appetite:

"Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liver slices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencod's roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine."