Ulysses by James Joyce

It's been a long time since reading a novel - reading anything - was this hard. I wasn't enjoying the read, but giving up was not an option. I must finish. I have to finish. In the end, I couldn't finish. My bookmark is on page 47 of 704 and I haven't touched the book in several weeks; I can't even bring myself to look in its direction, which is hard as it's been collecting dust on my bedside table! Over two years ago, in February of 2006, I PM'd an American BookCrosser and offered to mail this novel in their direction when I was finished with it. Since I'm now finally finished with it (or is it finished with me?), I'll PM them again to see if they're still interested. Time to choose some lighter reading off Mt. TBR for the start of summer.

Ulysses on BookCrossing.

A coughball of laughter

- Mr Dedalus!

Running after me. No more letters, I hope.

- Just one moment.

- Yes, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the gate.

Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.

- I just wanted to say, he said. Ireland, they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know that? No. And do you know why?

He frowned sternly on the bright air.

- Why, sir? Stephen asked, beginning to smile.

- Because she never let them in, Mr Deasy said solemnly.

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his lifted arms waving to the air.

- She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That's why.

On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins.

-- Ulysses by James Joyce