I must protest
Call me an uncivilized peasant if you will, but I continue to despise James Joyce. I recall a college English class of mine where all the students were ducking Prof. Gatza's questions about Joyce's "Stephen Hero," and--when he solicited an explanation for the mysterious phenomenon--only fifteen-year-old Brucie Boy had the guts to tell him, "Well, none of us have read the book because, frankly, it's just pitifully wretchedly dreadful." (I suppose that's why Gatza gave me a B.) While I had high hopes, this esteemed volume did not satisfy my expectations. The "food for thought"-type supplementary material merely reinforced the point that Joyce's writings are, fundamentally, just a covert plot for ensuring that the ink and paper industries garner at least certain revenues. Oh, another thing: the typesetting and binding leaves much to be desired. The type runs far too close to the spine, meaning I had to continually crack the book more than one hundred eighty degrees open in order to avoid continual eye strain, and a few leaves had rough, fluted edges. I guess, at $4.95, you get what you pay for!

Review this book