Tag Archives: Ulysses

James Joyce’s Dublin – a pictorial recreation of Ulysses

14 Oct

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I want to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book. – James Joyce

TELEMACHUS

“Stately plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of later on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.”

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Martello Tower, home of Joyce for 6 days in 1904 and the opening scene in Ulysses

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“In the gloomy domed living room of the tower Buck Mulligan’s gowned form moved briskly about the hearth to and fro, hiding and revealing it’s yellow glow.”

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“They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the water like the snout of a sleeping whale.”

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“He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by this side.”

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PROTEUS

“Come out of them, Stephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay, of Marsh’s library, where you read the fading prophesies of Joachim Abbas.”

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CALYPSO

“The belfry of St. George’s Church sent out constant peals….”

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LOTUS EATERS

“From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door of the post office. Too late box. Post here. No-one. In.”

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“Better get that lotion made up. Where is this? Ah yes, the last time. Sweny’s in Lincoln Place. Chemists rarely move.”

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“Mr. Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.”

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It is also where I bought my lemon soap

AEOLUS

Mr. Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a stately figure entered between the newsboards of the Weekly Freeman and National Press….”

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One of the many plaques throughout the city this one located on Prince’s Street North

“I’m just running around to Bachelor’s Walk, Mr. Bloom said, abou this ad of Keyes’s. Want to fix it up.”

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LESTRYGONIANS

“As he set foot on O’Connell Bridge, a puffball of smoke plummed up from the parapet….He halted again and bought from the old applewoman two Ban bury cakes for a penny and brook the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into the Liffey.”

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Jay: Go stand by the sign.  Me: Should I kneel down? Jay: No you’re short enough. Me: *pulls face*

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“He entered Davy Byrne’s. Moral pub. He doesn’t chat. Stands a drink now and then. I’ll take a glass of burgundy and let me see…have you a cheese sandwich?”

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“A blind strippling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No trams in sight. Wants to cross….I”ll see you across. Do you want to go to Molesworth Street?”

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SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS

“Mr. Bloom came to Kildare Street. First I must. Library….Urbane to comfort them, the Quaker librarian purred: And we have, have we not, those priceless pages of Wilhelm Meister?

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Not actually my photo since you couldn’t photograph the round room at the Dublin National Library

THE WANDERING ROCKS

“They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocooocooed.”

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Trinity College

Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the corner of Guinness’s visitors’ waitingroom”

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SIRENS

“Bronze by gold, Miss Douce’s head by Miss Kennedy’s head, over the crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel.”

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The now vacant and soon to be demolished Ormond Hotel and Bar

CYCLOPS

“So we turned into Barney Kiernan’s and there sure enough was the citizen up in the corner having a great big confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of drink.”

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The pub that was once known as Barney Kiernan’s

OXEN OF THE SUN

“In recent public controversy, with Mr. L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) which took place in the Commons Hall of the National Maternity Hospital 29, 30 and 31 Holles Street of which, as is well known, Dr. A Horne (Lic. in Midw., F. K. Q. C. P. I) is the able and popular master, he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthetic allusion, presumably, to one of the most complicated and marvelous of all of nature’s processes, the act of sexual congress) she must let it out again or give it life, as he phrased it, to save her own.”

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ITHACA

At the housesteps of the 4th Of the equidifferent uneven numbers, number 7 Eccles street, he inserted his hand mechanically into the back pocket of his trousers to obtain his latchkey..”

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The original door from 7 Eccles Street at the James Joyce Cultural Center

PENELOPE
“I saw him a few times in the Bleeding Horse in Camden Street with Boylan the Billsticker.”

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Engraved in stone before the Bleeding Horse Pub

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Thanks James.

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James’ Death Mask at Martello Tower

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This Is Sarah Turns One

13 Jul

Hi kids

So here we are….in the middle of July already.

Crazy.

Back on July 4th, THIS IS SARAH turned 1.

this is sarah

Suddenly Claire is everything in the world, everything beautiful, alive, peaceful, and good, and it’s all getting away from me.

The farther she gets from me, the closer she gets to the monsters, and all I want in the world is for Claire to always be safe.

Jesus fucking Christ, I just want to be able to save one of them.

It’s weird to me that this book has been around for a year because it feels so much shorter and then oddly enough so much longer. I was reading through my old journal the other day – seeing what I was up to this time last year…as if I forgot.

One month into diagnosis, my cancer still a secret from my parents, my father crazy sick in the hospital and my first (of three) surgeries looming on the horizon – the only thing that was holding me upright (aside from my husband and sisters) was working on Sarah.

I know that writing is never “effortless” but there are those times where a story wants to be told so badly that it really helps you out in the unfolding. That was Sarah. And thank god for it. Because it was the only time during the day, at 5 am squirreled into my little writing closet, that CANCER wasn’t everything. It’s like my brain shut the fuck up for awhile and just let me work. I’m eternally thankful for that.

Art saves.

If you haven’t read it and you’re interested, here’s what people think and here’s where you can get it. Or email me and I can get it to you. Contact is under the About tab.

In other news, I’ve got some poems published here, here and here. So thanks to Eye on Life and Yellow Chair Review for giving them a home.

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Writing on the new book is going surprisingly well. I’m acknowledging that so that when I get to the stage where I’m all “EVERYTHING IS SO AWFUL WHY DO I WRITE I HATE LIFE” I can look back and remember it didn’t always feel that way. I think part of it is that it’s based on semi-true events (During high school I fell off a waterfall, cracked my skull open and simultaneously got my heart broken) and the characters are semi-based on real people. Also I feel like emotionally, a large chunk of me still lives in that time – when I was sixteen and fucked up and everything I couldn’t say but wanted to could be put into a mixtape. Music spoke for me.

Wound up having an interesting conversation when I posted about the art of making a mixtape and how playlists just aren’t the same. As a friend pointed out, you can make a list on spotify but once someone hits shuffle it messes up your continuity. With a mixtape you were THERE, you were IN, from start to finish. There was an art to it. It was a thing that was crafted with love for a specific person. They were the audience. It mattered what song followed which song.

AND it mattered what sort of tape you used. TDK? Maxell? Memorex? A great mix on a good quality tape? That was love. Real love.

First love.

Like, I said, it’s just not the same with a playlist. Something has been lost in the translation.

At the same time I’ve been working on my query letter for Palimpsest with the always incredible Brad Abraham, screenwriter, creator of the comic Mixtape and the soon to be released Magicians Impossible (St. Martin’s Press). You want to know what I’ve learned so far?

It’s much easier to write a 113K word novel combining physics, Nietzsche, chess, time travel and memory over the course of 5 (ahem) years than it is to write a 300 word query explaining it. I should have started this bloody thing when I started the novel. Basically the problem is that a query is full of all the stuff that your writing instinct says “don’t do.” Like asking a question and then answering it. Things like this:

“So WILL Ally ever learn how to write a decent punchy query that agents will actually want to read? Probably when she’s done banging her head against the wall.”

Brad has been unendingly patient as we go through draft after draft after draft after draft after……

And finally, because it’s time, this is going to be my summer.

Toronto-Book-Fair-Ulysses

As the kids say,

StiflerPeace, love and starbursts,

Ally

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