The Bloomsday Scenario

 
In the past, attempts have been made and abandoned; strategies have been devised and revised; experts have been consulted and refuted.

But all that changes in 2011.

This year I will join the ranks of Joseph Campbell, Jorge Luis Borges, Vladimir Nabokov, and my mom. This year I will make my plan and stick to it. This is the year that I, a well-intentioned, mild-mannered librarian and booklover, resolve to read Ulysses.

Resolved: You’re mine, Leopold Bloom!

When I received my Bachelor’s degree from the University of Houston in the spring of 2004, a friend of mine gave to me a most handsome graduation gift: a 1934 first American edition copy of Ulysses by James Joyce. This friend, at the ripe old age of 23, had read all the works of Joyce, and in the past we discussed how much we both loved The Dubliners—a collection of short stories and, to this day, the only book by Joyce that I have successfully completed.

To paint a fair picture of my shortcomings with Joyce, I should mention that I’ve actually never attempted A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which I’m told is far easier to read than Ulysses. Neither have I tried Finnegan’s Wake, nor do I believe I ever shall—the opening lines alone act as a deterrent to even the most eager and intrepid reader.

“The demand that I make of my reader is that he should devote his whole life to reading my works.”
~ James Joyce

Joyce’s demand, it seems, has become a curse. Ulysses is notoriously known as the book that everyone intends to read and nobody ever finishes. Marilyn Monroe—seen above reading Ulysses in the famous Eve Arnold photograph, enjoyed reading Ulysses aloud and out of order, but as I understand it, was never able to complete her reading. I myself have made two attempts in the past, but I'm certain Ms. Monroe had even better luck with it than I did.

I believe these attempts failed because I lacked determination and a feasible plan. This time, armed with my 1934 copy of Ulysses, a 2011 calendar, and a calculator, I set about charting my course. My goal: to read Ulysses by Bloomsday.

Bloomsday, the day in which the entirety of the action of Ulysses takes place, is June 16th. Joyce selected the exact date for sentimental reasons—he and wife Nora had their first date on 16 June 1904. That’s sweet. While a part of me does wish that Nora left James hanging until December 31st, I’m quite grateful that it was June 16th and not, say, January 16th. This means that I have 166 days, beginning 8 am January 1st and ending at the beginning of Bloomsday, 8 am June 16th.

One Book Called “Ulysses” by James Joyce

In my copy of Ulysses, there are 768 pages. I make this distinction only because editors of later revised editions made attempts to correct all of Joyce’s “errors” and subsequently, these editions all vary in length. Originally, the work was serialized in a literary journal called The Little Review from 1918 to 1920. After several official complaints regarding of one of the more risqué episodes of Ulysses were registered, its serial publication was halted in the US.

The episodes were collected into a single volume in 1922, but the book was banned in America until December 6, 1933, when the ban was lifted by the decision of a US District Court in New York in the landmark case United States vs. One Book Called “Ulysses” by James Joyce.

My 1934 edition is just the first edition printed in America; I still don’t know whether I’m reading the urform of the text, but I imagine it’s as close as I’ll get to the original, “mistakes” and all.

The Madness in My Method

By my calculations, I would have to read between four and five pages a day to finish reading Ulysses by Bloomsday. I am going to aim for five pages a day, which would put me at completing my reading by June 4th.

Lest you think me a goody-goody with all this math and strict organization, I should point out that this means I only have 12 days to not read my allotted pages. This worries me because I am a champion procrastinator and the grand poobah of unfinished projects; setting a goal as lofty as reading Ulysses in just 166 days and allowing myself only 12 out of those166 days to goof off is just plain crazy.

Then again, it wouldn’t be a challenge otherwise. And where’s the fun in making a New Year’s resolution if you’re not going to challenge yourself?

So here I am—10 pages in with 164 days and 758 pages to go. Wish me luck, or better yet, read with me!