Tag Archives: Chester G. Anderson

tarabom, tarabom

Reading FW aloud makes such a difference, as Joyce noted. I’m listening to Patrick Healy’s unabridged audiobook (thanks to D) while reading.


Yeats’s Vision.

I’ve painted the following wheel as a mural in three apartments I’ve lived in. Now it’s wonderfully relevant:


B’s reading Italo Svevo.

Finished the Anderson pictorial biography. Interesting:

Paul Léon, who for many years acted as Joyce’s secretary, pointed out that ‘Mr Joyce trusts one person alone, and this person is Lucia.’ … Their psyches were strangely alike, even in some of their deviations from the ‘normal,’ at the same time as they were radically different. As Jung put it, they were both going to the bottom of a river, but Lucia was falling and Joyce was diving. What might seem to many to be ‘mental abnormality’ in Joyce’s writings, Jung said in 1932, ‘may also be a kind of mental health which is inconceivable to the average understanding.’

And from Tindall’s intro in A Reader’s Guide to FW:

Besides Webster’s dictionary the books that, writing my book, I found most useful were Clive Hart’s Concordance, which locates almost every word, David Hayman’s A First-Draft Version, which shows what the Wake was like before Joyce complicated it, and Dounia Christiani’s Scandinavian Elements.


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“Why is Jung so rude to me?”

“He doesn’t even know me,” Joyce said to Dr. Daniel Brody, the owner and manager of the Rhein-Verlag in Zurich who asked Jung to write a preface for the third edition of the German translation of Ulysses.

“People want to put me out of the church to which I don’t belong. I have nothing to do with psychoanalysis.”

Brody replied, “There can only be one explanation. Translate your name into German.” (641-2)


What a zinger, since Joyce in German is Freud.




Last weekend I found Chester G. Anderson’s illustrated James Joyce (Thames and Hudson, 1967) at the Strand for $5. The first time I ever purchased a book for its pictures.

From the NYT:

This ”outstanding” pictorial biography of James Joyce has ”a good text, careful, accurate and perceptive,” reviewers said in 1968. Its profuse illustrations, they added, ”have in many cases an almost magical power” to evoke the Dublin of 1904.

My favorite:


James Joyce with Ezra Pound, Ford Madox Ford, and John Quinn, ca. 1923.
Gelatin silver print photograph
Courtesy of The Poetry Collection, SUNY At Buffalo

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