Seeing Ourselves in 'Ulysses'

Unsurprisingly I suppose, the week's seminar was largely dedicated to discussing the bizarre nature of James Joyce's novel. Ulysses is not just complicated in content, but also in the way that the author presents this content to us as readers.

The various methods of interpreting such a vast, complex text range from reading it as an experiment and tribute to the works of Sigmund Freud, to a backhanded critique of Christianity, (in particular, catholicism in Ireland, where Joyce was born). I think that the book is both of these things. The early twentieth century church still possessed great power and authority within society, which may be one explanation as to why the modernists wished to oppose its long-standing conformity. The opening passage of the book utilises a great deal of imagery when describing certain aspects around the central characters. For example, nature is seemingly depicted as beautiful and elegant - the sea is referred to as 'mother' - which would appear to echo sections of the bible. However, Joyce exaggerates the smallest details to the point that he seems to be writing a mocking parody, going so far as to present nature as godlike in itself.

While this is a valid and interesting take on the meaning of Ulysses, I find the psychoanalytic approach to be more useful in identifying the true, unique quality of the novel. While reading the stream of consciousness, I found myself thinking that Joyce is ultimately only portraying the thoughts of an ordinary person on an ordinary day. We each allow our minds to drift between abstract and concrete ideas nearly every second of the day - and those ideas are interpreted differently by every other person. Were we to enter the mind of a close friend or complete stranger for a day, our experience would not be far from that of reading Joyce's novel - obscure and baffling.

There is rarely a linear narrative to our thought patterns, particularly during the night when we slip into unconsciousness and lose control all together. This, I believe, to be why the book stands out as a truly classic example of modern literature, in that Joyce is so accurately able to portray the inner workings of the human mind, when the distinction is blurred between fantasy and reality.

In a way, although we may not like to think so, there is a little bit of Molly Bloom in us all...