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Ulysses (Gabler Edition) (Englisch) Taschenbuch – 12. Mai 1986


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Produktinformation

  • Taschenbuch: 680 Seiten
  • Verlag: Vintage; Auflage: Vintage Books. (12. Mai 1986)
  • Sprache: Englisch
  • ISBN-10: 0394743121
  • ISBN-13: 978-0394743127
  • Größe und/oder Gewicht: 15,5 x 3,5 x 23,4 cm
  • Durchschnittliche Kundenbewertung: 4.1 von 5 Sternen  Alle Rezensionen anzeigen (30 Kundenrezensionen)
  • Amazon Bestseller-Rang: Nr. 120.478 in Fremdsprachige Bücher (Siehe Top 100 in Fremdsprachige Bücher)

Produktbeschreibungen

Pressestimmen

"Ulysses will immortalize its author with the same certainty that Gargantua immortalized Rabelais, and The Brothers Karamazov immortalized Dostoyevsky.... It comes nearer to being the perfect revelation of a personality than any book in existence."
-The New York Times

"To my mind one of the most significant and beautiful books of our time."
-Gilbert Seldes, in The Nation

"Talk about understanding "feminine psychology"-- I have never read anything to surpass it, and I doubt if I have ever read anything to equal it."
-Arnold Bennett

"In the last pages of the book, Joyce soars to such rhapsodies of beauty as have probably never been equaled in English prose fiction."
-Edmund Wilson, in The New Republic


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Einleitungssatz
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. Lesen Sie die erste Seite
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4 von 5 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von ewardle@iastate.edu am 14. Dezember 1999
Format: Taschenbuch
Woolf was right. Joyce was obsessed with being, hm, obscure. I have read every book he wrote (not that many) and studied him at length. It has not helped. I cannot admire anyone who thinks we should have to work so hard to figure out what he was talking about. Normal people can't enjoy Joyce and I think this is a travesty. For all the hard work I had to do to figure out what he was talking about, I did not get one moment's enjoyment. Down with pretentious male modernists who feel we should all spend our lives "working" to unveil the "true meaning" in their words. For all you Joyceans out there who like to mock the "commoners" for not "getting" Joyce, I am working on a PhD in English--and I "get" him just fine, thank you. And I nonetheless refuse to give in to the pressure to like him. Brilliant as he may have been, he was full of himself. In my mind, these two qualities alone (brilliance and arrogance) should not get anyone's novels on the must-read lists.
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Format: Taschenbuch
Ulysses is one of those big, mad bellwethers of a book that X will tell you is the biggest, best, most important blah blah blah and Y will tell you is a load of badly written tripe. Neither X nor Y tend to notice that the book consciously encourages both responses...but, well, I'll get back to the academic riffing in a minute.
I first tried to read Ulysses aged about 14 (I was an annoying little boy that way) and didn't get very far. The first three chapters are set in and around the mind of Stephen Dedalus, one of the most ridiculously clever and over-educated characters ever conceived, as he takes breakfast with some friends, teaches in a school some miles south of Dublin and walks along a beach. Along the way, his mind ruminates on subjects as diverse as 16th century underworld slang, his dead mother, and something he calls "the ineluctable modality of the visible" which I'm still struggling with. But he's a curiously ambiguous character, this Stephen; he fancies himself as a poet and rebel but when, on the beach, he picks his nose, he has a quick look around to see that nobody's watching before he smears the snot on a rock. (Joyce likes to poke fun at pretension this way - although he doesn't suggest that Stephen's ideas or rebel stance are completely hollow, either.)
The 14-year-old me didn't get that far. I gave up. It wasn't until I was 19 or so that I got as far as chapter four and encountered a Mr. Bloom, pottering around the kitchen making breakfast, that I started to get a grip. Bloom is one of the most likeable characters in fiction. He's a quiet, rather shy, oddly intelligent advertising salesman married to a voluptuous siren of a wife, Molly.
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Von Leo E. Walsh am 1. April 2000
Format: Taschenbuch
This is the second time I've read "Ulysses". It is a 'hard read' even for me, a good reader; my consistant criticism against Joyce is that he intentionally works to hide his arguments, his characters, and his thematic material behind a mind-boggling wall of style in "Ulysses" and "Finnegan's Wake", though his earlier works are quite approachable.
Too bad. The book is actually quite deeply human, and funny as hell. Bloom is a decent, bungling 'hero', a human like all of us. He's got his strengths, his weaknesses. I see him wandering flat footed in his black slacks like Charlie Chaplin through the crazy, jangling streets of Dublin. The night-town scene is a burlesque with a keenly penetrating, humanistic mind firmly at the helm. The barroom brawl a riot, especially with the dual narrators; the uneducated clod of low intelligence, and the archaic, mythic intonations of the blabber mouthed rhetoritician.
He muses on the wonder of existance; how we, living, dead breaths breath. How man and woman come together, making love and making babies. How, ultimately, we are all connected, umbilically to the past through our connections with the Tribe of Man.
"God loves everybody," says the comic, absurd voice in the barroom scene. It is funny. We grin, chuckle at the absurd voice. But it is true. It is Joyce's central theme.
Unfortunately, what he's mostly done is kept a ton of scholars busy writing 'commentaries' for a book that is revelant, all too human, and funny as hell... Perhaps even more hillarious than "Catch-22"... but that's debatable.
I give it five stars because I happen, through the graces of a good education, to be able to understand it. It is towering and complex. If you're willing to work, go for it.
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Von L. Renner am 14. Januar 2000
Format: Taschenbuch
Plot? There is no plot? Hath life a plot? I think not. Life is a continual process, ebb and flow, rising and falling, like plate tectonics, like the ocean:constant movement, sometimes building to grand, pulsing, God-quaking climaxes before receding back into everyday lifes slowly humming grey. But sometimes not. Don't approach Ulysses looking for a coherent arc of plot, you're going to be disappointed(again, it hasn't one). Approach it more like Lolita, less concerned with the subject matter than with the beauty of its language; each word is a live, crawling jeweled beetle gnawing and burrowing through the dung of a day in the life of ad salesman Leopold Bloom, flittering their wings, busszing and forminng new patters, cresting and swirling into a cone, a tetracylone around an ordinary day in the life of an essentially ordinary Man. It works like a silhouette:each word, like a wort, pimple, hair or other blemish on a face defines its shape, as does ulyesses a life in the context of a single day(cf Finnegans Wake), through long sonorous sentences and chapters brimming like a cistern full of noisy pink coffee, out of which meaning blooms like a bloody Liebestod-singing rose, grabbing you. Even still, there is no meaning-ordering modern life? There is no order."Der Inhalt ist in den Augen einer Eule". Using The Odyssey to parallel Blooms avoidance of Molly is but a simple ploy, an act of acceptance and defeat, a concession of escape and resignation-much like those little pimply puke potsmoke fourteen year olds who compare their lives to popular songs. Don't hide. The pure organic beauty-tragic, erotic, hilarious, pathetic, and ulimtately affirmative runs through this novel like a vein of gold ore. Pick it up. Enjoy it at length.Lesen Sie weiter... ›
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