The problem, or possibly the joy, of committing oneself to being a Joycean is that there are just no ends to the highways and byways of reading and research involved in living up to the label. Case in point: a captivating review by John Banville, himself a spectacularly talented Joycean, of what sounds like a very fine novel about the life, or, rather, alternative life, of Norah Barnacle, entitled Penelope Unbound by Mary Morrissy. The first three paragraphs of Mr Banville's review give the best potted history of the story of Jim and his Nora (he took away the 'h' it seems) I've ever read.
So now I've got to get hold of a copy of the novel, but it doesn't stop there. I've decided it's time for a reread of Ellmann's 'masterly biography' of the great writer (which will be my third reading) and also of Brenda Maddox's wonderful evocation of the great Nora's life (only the second time through.) Fortunately both tomes reside happily on my shelves so that won't involve shelling out for them.
I first read Ellmann in my teens and, strangely, I just knew then that Joyce wouldn't have been Joyce without Nora(h) even though the consensus is that Ellmann underrates her. Thank goodness Jim didn't.
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