Sun Li wants to be rich when he grows up. On his journey to find wealth, however, he must first cross the Great River. There he meets a wise old man, who teaches him that life offers much more than beautiful jewels and fine clothes. The Way Of The Circle is a gentle tale of an old man's wisdom and a young boy's lessons in harmony, kindness, and love. Set in ancient China and beautifully illustrated, the story helps young readers recognize the timeless truth of "the Way of the Circle" -- every kind act you do will one day return to you. James Vollbracht's masterful telling of this superb story for young readers is beautifully enhanced with the artwork of Chris Folen.

In The Weird Tale, Joshi analyses the work of half a dozen writers whose influence on the modern supernatural horror story is either incalculable (Lovecraft, James and possibly Bierce) or else not nearly large enough (Blackwood, Machen, Dunsany). Joshi's central theoretical tenet is that weird fiction is an inherently philosophical mode, since it offers writers the chance to remake the world according to their own rules. H P Lovecraft is the prime example, possessing a coherent and thoroughly worked out philosophy which colours and powers all his best work. Much the same applies to Blackwood, though his mystical and sometimes sentimental author's personality was the polar opposite of Lovecraft's. Similarly, Machen's mysticism (whenever he could keep off his Anglo-Catholic hobbyhorse for long enough), Bierce's misanthropy and Dunsany's unique and complex blend of anti-modernism and ultra-Olympian cynicism all provide Joshi with a lens through which to see their work in its most rewarding light. The only writer for whom Joshi displays little enthusiasm is M R James, primarily because his work never goes beyond the ghastly-revenant plot - however inventively James may manage it at times. Joshi is miraculously well-read, has a sharp eye for the best among frequently voluminous works, and is even honest enough to say when he's talking from prejudice rather than analysis. The Weird Tale brings genuine literary criticism to bear on a genre where literary and critical standards have been debased to a condition rather worse than that of science fiction, and is of vast help in pointing out the works to whose quality writers (and readers) of supernatural fiction could aspire.

M.R. James has many imitators and if you've read any ghost story anthologies at all, you're probably already acquainted with him. "Casting the Runes" and "Oh Whistle and I'll Come for You, My Lad" are probably his two most collected stories, but they're all good. I still shiver through every one of them, and I've read all of his stories at least a hundred times (well, maybe ten times). His usual protagonist is an elderly (or elderly seeming) scholar, British of course, who gets himself into horrible, occult trouble by going where he shouldn't go or reading what he shouldn't read.

There are other good writers of ghostly tales: Sheridan LeFanu, Charles Dickens, E.F. Benson, Shirley Jackson, etc.; and Ramsey Clark once wrote a short story in the style of M.R. James that almost could have been written by the Master, himself. However, if you haven't already read M.R. James' "Collected Ghost Stories", please do so. He is the writer by which all others in this difficult genre are measured.

M.R. James is nothing like Lovecraft, though he did influence H.P.L. in some respects ( though not as much as Dunsany, Blackwood, Machen and others ). James was a master of the subtle, 'antiquarian' ghost story, whereas Lovecraft was more interested in aeon-old daemonic unspeakable horrors and cyclopean eldritch shamblers from unnameable nether pits of cosmic unfathomable darkness, so to speak! He ( Lovecraft ) wrote some effective stories but they don't really bear comparison with those of James, who could elicit more fear in a couple of sentences than H.P.L. could in a whole story.

M.R. James may well be the most famous of early modern ghost/supernatural fiction writers but he certainly isn't the 'father' of the ghost or horror story, nor is he the best, in the opinion of many afficionados. In fact, he himself was directly influenced by the true father of the psychological ghost story, J.Sheridan LeFanu. James openly acknowledged his admiration and debt to LeFanu and those who enjoy James should definitely try reading LeFanu - his 'Best Ghost Stories' published by Dover are also available from Amazon.com and are a must for anyone with an interest in supernatural fiction. There are so many great writers who are the equal of or superior to James who have been unjustly neglected over the years, including Algernon Blackwood, Arthur Machen, Oliver Onions, Robert Aickman, and Fritz Leiber to name just a few. To all who've enjoyed the wonderfully creepy tales of the late provost, I whole-heartedly recommend these sadly forgotten masters of the ghostly tale.

great stories from the master. excellent at details, truly chilling, great descriptions, noone can make as much out of the traditional ghost story. james no that one change is enough to make a completely different story. changing objects, persons, places, angles, james shows the complete potential of the ghost story. built up excellent, these stories are among the best read in horror. lurking evil, suggestive evil, warning of evil, sudden icy touches by ghostly hands. i have read a lot of horror, but james almost startles me. like that scene in the well, i could almost feel a hand on my shoulder.

Campbell's collection is unique. He attempts to -- and does -- capture the the aura of M.R. James' horror work. He has collected pieces from before James, contemporary to James, and since James. Most of them are entertaining and well-written, but they do inspire terror in the reader. If you are looking for a collection of quaint ghost stories, you have found it. If you are looking for horror, look elsewhere.

Knowledgeably compiled and ably edited by Ramsey Campbell, Meddling With Ghosts is an outstanding anthology of memorable short stories by a variety of talented authors, all of whom deliberately offer sumptuous and bone-chilling tales of supernatural horror in the literary tradition of M. R. James. From J. Sheridan Le Fanu's "The Familiar" (1872) to Terry Lamsley's "Two Returns" (1993), this compendium of spooky tales set in bygone decades ranges from the 1870's to the 1990's and make Meddling With Ghosts a spiritually transcendent literary journey through time as well as through the occult planes of the mind-chilling, spine-tingling unknown.

I do not expect a fairy tale, like that of Cinderella being carried off by her Prince Charming but I was quite disappointed that at the end of the story, John Eames had not managed to win the heart of his lady.

In my opinion, Trollope was unkind to portray too much of the hobbledehoyness of John Eames. He did not quite elaborate much of how John Eames came to become a man since he should be our hero in the book.

I really admired Eames's unquenched love and loyalty to L.D. Seldom we find such great exertions in men nowadays. At the same time, I do feel that Eames was a people pleaser to an extent except the time when he thrashed Apollo Crosbie and when he insisted on Sir Raffle Buffle giving him an extension of leave to stay in Guestwick Manor.

About Lilian Dale, I have to say she was a strong woman because to be jilted in the age where she existed was a great disgrace. How she managed to still sustain her love for the man who hurt and abused her, I cannot comprehend.

In conclusion, I think the book is quite okay even though it doesn't have the 'Oomnps! ' as it should have but it's sure a good way to pass your time.

Too much, probably, is made of this being one of "the Barsetshire novels," seeing that Trollope did not at first include it with the five others classed in that category, and that there is no need whatsoever to have read any of them to be drawn deeply into the world of its characters -- characters the creation of whose palpable, individual realness is the author's great gift. *The Small House at Allington* is remarkable for the balance accorded to six different social strata: (1) the upper reaches of the aristocracy (the De Courcy family and also the first appearance of Plantagenet Palliser); (2) the minor gentry, represented by the squire Dale of Allington and his presumptive heir; (3) their respectable but somewhat impoverished dependents (Mrs. Dale and her two daughters, Bell and Lily, whose love interests provide the main substance of the plot); (4) the world of men who must work to make their way in the world (in which category fall most of the suitors of the novel); (5) those on the fringe of "respectability" (Mrs. Roper's boarding house in London); and (6) the class of domestic servants (especially one Hopkins, head gardener at Allington -- but Trollope seems to make an effort to portray other members of this class when the occasion provides an opportunity). Dozens of other minor characters appear briefly and vividly in the spotlight, each animated with the spark of life.

The plot is unspectacular in the extreme, but for lovers of Trollope, the ability to understand the drama and heroism of ordinary life, as well as its tedium, pettiness, and villainy, will always be his special appeal. This novel is slow, perhaps, to seize the reader's interest -- at least, so I found it -- but in the end the volume acquires a remarkable momentum from the progress of its various subplots and possesses in the final two hundred pages a sort of urgency in its narrative momentum that carries it briskly along. For me, the "hobbledehoyhood" of Johnny Eames is sometimes hard to bear. Trollope even says at the end of the novel that "I feel I have been in fault in giving such prominence to a hobbledehoy." But biographers tell us that such was Trollope in his youth, so a grateful reader is, I suppose, bound to cherish a special feeling for Johnny Eames also.

At one moment a character arrives at his sister-in-law's house in London and is obliged to wait several moments while the servant changes into livery before answering the knock at the door -- for it is thus that the daughter of an earl clings to the trappings of her rank. I love such glimpses into the ways of a vanished world, and they are one of the charms of reading Trollope. But the ways of the human heart have changed less than its outward customs, and the twenty-first-century reader will encounter the shock of recognition several dozen times in the course of reading *The Small House at Allington*.

The handsome Oxford University Press edition, a bargain at the price, has an insightful introduction by James R. Kincaid. If only it were presented as an afterword! Is there really any point in giving away the plot of a novel?

The Small House at Allington, one of Trollope's Barsetshire novels of provincial life, does not require a familiarity with the other books in the series. Its plot device, much like the slightly superior Framley Parsonage, is to show the effects of poor choices and the way in which life sometimes gives folks pretty just desserts for the silly choices they make. As with all Trollope, though, the plot is a jaunty cover for his real theme, which is a social satire of his era in an effort to illumine human nature. Sometimes Trollope's plot devices had a different effect on the reader than he intended. Lily Dale, placed in the novel largely to illustrate the consequences attendant to self-willed dedication to victorian ideas of true love, in fact became a celebrated character in her time as an example of a perfect jilted lover. It is somewhat amusing reading the novel today, seeing how Trollope showed Lily as a stubborn girl from a stubborn family, stubbornly devoted to "Love", and then to think that in his time, Lily was seen as a perfect avatar of true love.

This is a good read--lots of rich satire of persons of both high and low station. It is not Trollope's best, but it is a good read, and well worth a Sunday afternoon read. If you have not read Trollope, prepare for a richly human story laced with satire. If you have read Trollope, then expect a wit slightly less sharp but a story a bit more engaging than his others. His character Crosbie, the "villain" of sorts, is a fine creation, and this one is worth a read.

I finished reading this book only a few weeks ago for a college class I'm in. It certainly wasn't the kind of book I'd pick up just on my own, but I wouldn't say I didn't like it.

The story is set primarily in Boston and somewhat in New York during the 1880's. At the request of his cousin Olive Chancellor, southern lawyer Basil Ransom comes to visit. He accompanies her to a meeting where the young Verena Tarrant speaks wonderfully on women's rights. Olive is so impressed with Verena, she starts what's debatably a lesbian relationship with her, but Ransom is taken with Verena as well and so a struggle begins between the two for Verena's affections.

I think Henry James does an excellent job of giving complete descriptions of each character and you really get a sense of who they are. Olive comes across as rigid and passionate, Verena as young, full of life and curious and Basil as sexist and determined. Basil uses all his ability to wrench Verena from Olive. As I mentioned, the relationship between Verena and Olive is debatable. There are no sex scenes in this novel, but the implication is there. Additionally, I've learned in the class for which I read this novel that many women during this time period engaged in very intense romantic relationships which may or may not be described as sexual.

There are of course other characters such as Verena's parents and other women's rights activists, but the whole focus of the novel is on this struggle for Verena. It wouldn't be completely unfair to say that in some ways nothing much happens in this novel. It's truly a character driven story. There aren't really antagonists and protagonists in the story, but more just people whom all have faults and are just trying to make the right decisions. Although my description of Basil above may sound like a bad guy and although he's unapologetically sexist, he perhaps is no worse than Olive who sometimes seems to be using Verena, a young woman whose thoughts and feelings are maleable. At its heart, the novel is still a love story. Overall, I'd say this is probably worth reading if you like novels about this time period, about love or if you like this author. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'd read another novel by James, but I don't regret reading this.

Though James is certainly not known for his sense of humor, he displays a keen sense of satire in this novel. The two senses are not identical--many readers expect satire to make them laugh out loud, and those readers will be disappointed in this book. James' satire is more likely to make readers feel uncomfortable. He repeatedly mocks the two main characters and their struggle to control a young woman who hardly seems worth the effort that these two egoists put into her pursuit. James allows Olive Chancellor and Basil Ransom (whose names evoke the satiricomic tradition in which he is writing) to take themselves seriously while allowing the readers to see them as stereotypes. While satire depends on such stereotypes, James' fiction typically delves into the psychological. At times, he is able to keep this balance, but often the tension is too great and the characters seem to fall flat. Verena Tarrant--the object of Olive and Basil's affection--is virtually absent psychologically (as others have noted), but her lack of character is built into the novel. She begins as her father's possession, and the novel hinges on whether Olive or Basil get to own her next. While the novel is certainly not without faults, it is interesting to watch a novelist as self-conscious as James attempt to write a novel of this type. While he wasn't destined to become a comic genius, this novel is a step toward the psychological, satirical and comic success he was to have in a novel such as "The Ambassadors."

When he says the "Bostonians" he means "the lesbians." I was pretty interested in the story of a Boston marriage, but it got increasingly mean-spirited toward the end, when the dashing right-wing Mississippian convinces the young woman to leave the older one and a full suffrage lecture-hall and run away with him-- she finds it seductive to be told she must have no will of her own.

I went looking for criticism of this book and found little in Gale, but two essays from 1990s by Wendy Lesser and Alison Lurie. Lesser argues against the feminist line that the book is a misogynist polemic; she responds that Olive (the lesbian) and Basil (the Mississippian) are both complex characters, sometimes weak, sometimes strong and sympathetic. (She quotes Hardwick that James is our best female novelist because his women are powerful and interesting.) Lurie looks at the novel as more about politics than gender: James came home from Europe and found he hated America; showed the South re-conquering the North in Basil's conquest of Verena.

I disagree with Lesser: Basil is shown as naive and occasionally weak but dashing and full-hearted -- I'm sure he is an idealized self-portrait of James. Olive is honest and principled but so bleak and unhappy that her love is purely destructive. Her strength lies less in her principles (Mrs. Birdseye after all is equally principled but utterly weak) than in her vaulting ambition. She reminds me of Dixon's Thaddeus Stevens in The Klansman -- passionate, scheming, perversely principled, but essentially evil. Both come from Milton's Satan, seen as a Yankee.

Which brings me to Lurie's version. I agree with her that the novel is about politics, but disagree that he was writing against America -- I think he was just writing against Boston. The hostility the novel met at the time stemmed from his nasty portrait of the old transcendalist Elizabeth Peabody (his minor character Mrs. Birdseye); this is a less irrelevant reaction than critics portray it, since she's a stand-in for everything he despises about his own Boston roots, a hatred which drives the novel. An equally weak but even more despicable character is Verena's father, a mystical fraud whose nomadic career has certain resemblances to James's father's -- resemblances strengthened if Verena is modeled on Alice James. The Boston reform tradition is alternately weak-minded and hard-edged, and basically loveless -- a spirit of drafty wet lecturehalls. Where Basil is hot-blooded -- he feels about Mississippi a tragic love he can't bear to speak of in conversation -- Olive's New England feeling is only cold philosophy.

How real is the political alternative which Basil represents? We see much less of him than of Olive; James knew Boston but not Mississippi. But I think James like some of his peers yearned for a certain reactionary romanticism which northern intellectuals associated with the South -- a Burkean spirit of cavaliers and kings. (Basil's name means "king," and his emerging career is writing political essays said to be hundreds of years out of date.) Basil's defeat of Olive to marry Verena -- he imagines his own seizure of her from the podium of Fanuiel Hall as a political assassination, with shades of John Wilkes Booth -- is clearly a re-conquest of the North by the old South. What he offers for an American future is less Enlightenment, more Middle Ages -- less rights, more responsiblities -- less cold charity, more warm friendship.

James/ Basil reminds me of Henry Adams in the "Education." On the one hand, Adams saw the warm (mildly homoerotic) friendship of exceptional men (modeled on himself and John Hay) as a strategy for national progress. On the other, Adams developed a similarly St. Gaudensian aesthetic of the medieval -- the cathedral against the dynamo. This was the first, aesteticist reaction of the northern elite to the soullessness of postbellum America, which we forget because it was replaced by Teddy Roosevelt's more muscular alternative.

I wrote the original review that everyone hated. I am back. I was surprised that the review met the hostile reaction that it did. I went back and thought, perhaps I had judged Mellow too harshly. I don't think so. I'm not saying this is a poorly researched book. I'm not saying it is a poorly written book. I am not saying it is inaccurate. What I am saying is that I just don't see a reason why someone would be interested in writing on Hemingway from an academic slant. He was not an academic. He didn't write for academics. Therefore, I find it a bit unfair to write about him academically, but, more than unfair, I just found myself wondering what Mellow found interesting about Hemingway. The reason is, I like Hemingway. I like his stories. I like the fact that he moved to Paris and fell deeply in love and served in the Red Cross and tried to do all of these different things. A biography, I feel, should explore a writer's interest in the subject, and I had a hard time finding anything but a superficial interest in an "important literary figure" here. If that makes me enamored with the Hemingway mystique, so be it. But if I didn't think he was great, why would I want to read about him? Hemingway was great. He was a great writer and, in many ways, lived an amazing life. Unless you have lived that life yourself, then you have no right to treat the person who did with such coolness. I do not feel that this book treated the subject with the respect due him.

Mellow is a fan of Hemingway and perseverant, hard working, and knowledgeable about even the minutia of his subject matter. For the whole of a very readable biography, he is in constant dialogue with different texts: Hemingway's, family memoirs, diaries of his lovers, family photo albums. And in doing all of this, he disentangles a lot of cleverly woven strands woven together in the quest of one man toward greatness....

I can remember first reading Hemingway like six or so years ago when I was in high school and I hated him... could not understand why he did not understand why... the pointlessness of it all... Once, being forced to read 'A Room of One's Own' all of my disappointment in the man turned toward adulation; I still count Hemingway among my favorite authors.... and this book strengthens it.....

Even if Hemingway were some no one whose books had never been things of legend, whose life had not been held in esteem even while he lived-- this would still be a remarkable book. I highly recommend it to anyone-- it is definately worth all the money you'll spend....

Anyone who has read Hemingway extensively has a general idea of his life, as he wrote in a very autobiographical (albeit slanted) stlye. However, for anyone wanting a fair, unflinching review of the author's life, including his loves, his clashes with friends and reviewers, and his frustrating decline as a writer, I encourage them to read Mellow's excellent biography.

Mellow is clearly a fan of Hemingway's, but at the same time he provides a very even-handed and thorough account of the author's many personal vendettas, his sometimes boorish and insensitive behavior, and his failed relationships with his wives while at the same time providing glimpses into the autobiographical aspects of many of Hem's works. I became much more interested in Hemingway's excellent short stories after reading Mellow's book, which refers to them extensively.

We meet Gertrude Stein, Alice Toklas, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gerald Murphy, and other Hemingway friends and aquiantances in vivid detail. I also was particularly impressed with the biography's epiphanous ending, as Hemingway took his life in Ketchum Idaho in 1961 with a self-inflicted shotgun blast. All in all, this is an excellent, concise, very readable biography which should be must reading for all fans of Hemingway's writing.

Beware! If you love James or desire to discover him, this new edition of OUP's anthology is not the way to go. A previous and superb OUP edition was edited and annotated by Michael Cox. His fascinating comments are cued by asterisks that are liberally sprinkled throughout the text. In the current version, all the annotations are gone--but the asterisks remain! One can imagine how many readers must be scratching their heads over them. In place of Cox's excellent work, there is an innane introduction by the fashionable novelist Michael Chabon, who tells nothing of James's publications and incredibly little of his life (not even his dates), and explores only one of the stories, persistently misidentifying the protagonist, Parkins, as Parkes. You can't make this stuff up. What was OUP thinking? Why fix something that not only wasn't broken, but was something to be admired? I bought this volume as a gift--it's a handsome hardback--but plan on asking for a refund.

First, about M.R. James:

He is excellent! He is one of the best, most underappreciated voices in horror. Lovecraft admired him. His stories, though old, are quite scary. Also, they are very well written. As Chabon points out in his intro, Poe and Lovecraft weren't the best literary stylists. Most people cite "Oh, Whistle..." as James's best story, but I think I'll vote for "Count Magnus." Certainly all of them are good. More than that, they are REQUIRED reading for anyone who wants to have a basic understanding of horror literature. It is also a hell of a good read.

Second, this edition:

I was greatful to a previous reviewer for explaining the asterisks. There are asterisks without footnotes all over this book, as well as other Oxford University Press books (The Monk). Now we know that these are residue from a previous edition that HAD footnotes. Perhaps you might want to get that version.

However, I take great issue with the disparaging of Michael Chabon's essay on M.R. James. If you don't get the edition with his introduction, I recommend going to the bookstore and reading through it anyway. His comments are very illuminating on James and ghost stories in general.

The art of Dr. James is by no means haphazard, and in the preface to one of his collections he has formulated three very sound rules for
macabre composition. A ghost story, he believes, should have a familiar setting in the modern period, in order to approach closely the
reader's sphere of experience. Its spectral phenomena, moreover, should be malevolent rather than beneficent; since fear is the emotion
primarily to be excited. And finally, the technical patois of 'occultism' or pseudo-science ought carefully to be avoided; lest the charm of
casual verisimilitude be smothered in unconvincing pedantry.
-H.P. Lovecraft

Though less well remembered today than some other authors of Gothic ghost stories--like J. S. [John Sheridan] LeFanu, whose work he
edited, Bram Stoker, and Henry James (no relation), or their successors H.P. Lovecraft, Algernon Blackwood, and the like--M. R. James is
one of the great early horror writers. This story, which concerns a mysterious and unpleasant Mr. Karswell, who takes creepy exception to a
negative review of his book, The Truth of Alchemy, shows off James's talents to good effect, combining genuine scares with a droll wit.
But what makes this edition particularly appealing are the 12 splendid black-and-white drawings by Jeff White--an artist with whom I am not
familiar and about whom I could find nearly nothing on the Web--that accompany the text. This slender volume seems certain to get any
reader looking for more stories by Mr. James and more books illustrated by the estimable Mr. White

GRADE : A

This book uses a wonderfully varied selection of stories to teach the reader about different Point of View's (pov) and how they effect the tone and content of a story. As a wanna-be writer I have found this one of my most effective books I make frequent reference to.

This book was given to us by a Canadian exhange teacher and it has opened up so many avenues of reading. From Shirley Jackson's horror masterpiece The Lottery through to Truman Capote's My Side of the Matter, it is a brilliant, brillant anthology. A lifetime's reading awaits anyone who picks up this book as each story makes you seek out the author.

This book is very handy in teaching students the art of the personal essay. It has many diverse examples. Check it out!

I will not argue the fact that Joyce is a master of the English language. Nor will I argue that at times he has very good insight into the psychological motivations of art, religion, and sociology. He possesses both of these talents. However, the manner in which they are presented in this book is simply disappointing. I am an avid reader and can appreciate thick philosophy woven artistically into an intriguing story. This book has sparse bits of philosophy and an occasional artistic stitch, but by and large fails to create a fabric that sparks my interest. Throughout this book, I found myself hopelessly holding onto the idea that, "this is one of the greatest books ever written in the English language," and was left there holding onto that hope afterwards because it failed to deliver anything more.

The story drags at the beginning, and while the minutia of Stephen's life is important to understand where he ends up, its focussed on way too much; the first 80 pages are useless and will leave you rolling your eyes for relief. Next, while a certain degree of specificity is important in terms of describing a scene, the precision to which he describes things, largely irrelevant things, can only be construed as "filling" to make this very short book acceptably long. Say something. Repeat it for emphasis. But don't fixate on it for pages and pages and pages. Lastly, the "meat" of the book, that being what actually made the man into an artist, is so sparse and loosely hung on the frail skeleton of plot, that any person reading this book hungry for some sort of insight or depth is ravishing and unsatisfied at the end, anxious to be filled up by some other book.

Kundera is much better at doing what this "master" was intending to do. He cuts off the fat and leaves raw, creative, chiseled, philosophical muscle on the bone for a reader to savor. I wish I would have spent my time rereading something of his instead of deciding to pick up a book about the very slow and boring progression of this artist's perception.

"Portrait" is arguably Joyce's best work, truly a masterpiece from the greatest writer of the 20th century if not ever. Even if you are not a writer (I'm an engineer), after reading Joyce you will want to write--albeit sadly not as well as Joyce, but you will want to write nonetheless. As for the rare bad review that you may see on this forum, well, there's no accounting for taste! More seriously, it can be a tough read and people often get more out of it the second time through (for fellow members of the Television Generation, we call that "replay value"). So give the heretics who scored it two or three stars a few years for their tastes to mature, and we'll see what they say when they read it again.

When I first read Joyce, I did not catch many of the nuances of Portrait, so I understand how some may find this a challenging book. Hence, I highly recommend buying a copy of the "The Dubliners"--the Dover Thrift edition costs $1.50, though it has no notations. (Also, if you are a busy person, a taste of Joyce may help motivate you.) Dubliners is a collection of short (4-10 page) stories that, beyond being excellent in themselves, will help you get acclimated to Joyce. And for a little more than a buck, you can afford to throw it in to some order to get a nice preview of Joyce before spending the time to read Portrait. (Not that Portrait takes a long time--it's just over 200 pages.)

"A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" is an impressionistic, semi-autobiographical work in which Joyce, through the character of Stephen Dedalus, relates the events and impressions of his youth and young adulthood. The novel flows effortlessly from Stephens first memories as "baby tuckoo" to his final journal entries before embarking on a promising literary career in Paris. In the pages between, Joyce's virtuosity of prose explodes in passages with frightening intensity. Even those who dislike Joyce's confusing, sometimes-infuriating style, should be awestruck by his undubitable writing ability.

However, as anyone reading this review should already know, despite his virtuosity, Joyce is not for everyone. He is simultaneously one of the most beloved and despised writers of the twentieth century. For those of you who are unfamiliar with his work and hesitantly contemplating becoming acquainted with it, here is some food for thought: first, start with "Portrait," it is far more accessible than his subsequent works and a better introduction to them than the also-excellent "Dubliners" is. Second, do not try to judge "Portrait" by the same standards as other books. Joyce is not trying to tell an amusing story here, he is trying to relate the impressions of a young man torn between two existences: a religious or an aesthetic. If you are a meat-and-potatoes type of reader, meaning the kind of reader who prefers a "story," Joyce will not be your cup of tea. Lastly, Joyce's reputation perhaps does his works injustice. Yes, he is extremely encyclopedic and takes on many themes in his works. But perhaps too many readers get sidetracked from the aesthetic merits of his works by concentrating solely on the intellectual values. It is his prose which can be universally appreciated, whether you understand the ideas it portrays or not. His prose is his bread-and-butter. Some people pompously brag of their "getting" Joyce without actually appreciating what he does. I don't claim to be a bonafied Joyce scholar, but it is my experience that to enjoy Joyce is to appreciate "literature for literature's sake." If you enjoy literature, poetry or prose, than you should enjoy the style with which Joyce writes, that is to say, all styles. And he has seemingly mastered all styles. That is not to say that the many thematic levels in which his novels succeed are to be ignored, for their expression is not seperate from the means with which Joyce does it, but congruous with it.

To read Joyce is to revel in the limits of artistic creation and then to read on as the limits are then stretched further.

Bon Apetite!