Tags » Stephen Dedalus

Ep. 2 - Ulysses & the Odyssey: Telemachus!

Dermot and Kelly discuss the connections between Ulysses and The Odyssey. We take on the Gilbert schema, how to market a book like Ulysses… 177 more words

James Joyce

Stephen's Riddle

I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality.

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James Joyce

The Vivid Colours of Stephen's Personality in "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man"

James Joyce’s Modernist novel ” A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” is rich with descriptions of Stephen’s psychological development from being a toddler to an adolescent he tries to make sense of the world around him and come to terms with his own personality and life’s purpose in the chaos-fraught 20th century Ireland. 2,087 more words


The Women of Ulysses: Mr. Deasy's Perfidious Women

Part of an occasional series on the women of Ulysses.

In “Nestor,” the second episode of Ulysses, Stephen Dedalus finds himself in a discussion with his employer, Mr. 1,749 more words

James Joyce

Ulysses & The Odyssey: Telemachus

I am now writing a book based on the wanderings of Ulysses. ‘The Odyssey,’ that is to say, serves me as a ground plan. Only my time is recent and all my hero’s wanderings take no more than 18 hours.

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James Joyce

Stephen Dedalus grapples with post-prandial grease

He ate his dinner with surly appetite and, when the meal was over and the grease-strewn plates lay abandoned on the table, he rose and went to the window, clearing the thick scum from his mouth with his tongue and licking it from his lips… His soul was fattening and congealing into a gross grease, plunging ever deeper in its dull fear into a sombre threatening duck, while the body that was his stood, listless and dishonoured, gazing out of darkened eyes, helpless, perturbed and human for a bovine god to stare upon.

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Poetry in Ulysses: The Ballad of Joking Jesus

-We oughtn’t to laugh, I suppose. He’s rather blasphemous. I’m not a believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of it somehow, doesn’t it?

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James Joyce