Nay-saying

Lots of articles have been appearing just lately on James Joyce, especially with regard to Ulysses, this being the centenary of the greatest novel in English (and possibly any language) of the twentieth century. I'm certainly not complaining, though suffering mild irritation over the fact that my actual copy of the novel, which I feel inspired to re-re-re-read is on the shelves of Maison KL and so remains out of touch.

A particularly useful piece for those needing some kind of introduction to the works of the great man appeared in today's Graun online. Entitled Where to start with James Joyce it lives up to its billing with some enthusiastically common sense recommendations, and the comments BTL also prove quite illuminating, though, as usual, there are plenty of nay-sayers as to Ulysses as a readable text (and, of course, Finnegans Wake) and to Joyce as a writer of any stature at all.

It's a fascinating mystery to me as to why this kind of commentator should even bother - but they always do. I mean, why go to the trouble of announcing you find Joyce unreadable? What possible benefit is there in that for anyone reading the comment, except to make those who belong to the fraternity of non-readers-of-Ulysses feel better about their failure? And why are these people reading an article about the pleasures of reading Joyce? Funnily enough, you can guarantee finding the same kind of comments under any on-line article relating to the genius of Bob Dylan.

I must say, when I was at university I regarded Finnegans Wake as unreadable - because I couldn't get beyond the first page - and felt that Joyce had gone in the wrong direction after 1922. But I didn't go around telling the world this and attempting to stymie anyone's attempt to attend the Wake, partly because I suspected there might well be some kind of deficiency in myself as a reader. And now my position on Joyce's final work has changed. I still haven't read it, but I have a vague plan to make an attempt come retirement and I'm keenly aware from hearing the text performed that I might well enjoy the effort as long as I accept I'm not very likely to really get to grips with a novel that's surely intended to escape the reader who tries to pin it down.

I wonder if that's what fuels the annoyance of the nay-sayers, since annoyance does seem to characterise their offerings, or, rather, lack of offering anything remotely constructive? A feeling that what I can't grasp must be rendered as unavailable to all?