I haven't given up. But I don't really have much to say about any of the stuff I've been reading, and I find the idea of having to write a post about it every time is deterring me from sitting down and digging further into this book. So if I have more to say about it, I will update here, but for now I'm going to avoid posting about Ulysses unless I feel genuinely motivated to do so. I still want to finish this book, and I think that trying to blog about it is holding me back.
Taking the night off. Will be back tomorrow.
I don't have much to say about this one, itself -- I didn't take notes while I was reading, though I did look a few things up. There wasn't much conversation in this chunk. It seemed mostly to be in the mind of Stephen, contemplating his time in Paris, during which time his mother apparently died, and he apparently went to some length to make clear he was not the one who did it.
Apart from that, there was plenty of self-loathing. He seems to hate his sex drive, and the fact that his sexual arousal prevents him from behaving in a saintly manner.
I think I started to get the hang of reading this section. Or, at least, I think I managed to find a way to enjoy it, which I hope will serve me well in the future chapters. As it dipped into the stream-of-consciousness series of memories Stephen described, I just went along with it, not trying to connect every paragraph, or even every sentence, to the thoughts around it.
This might affect my comprehension of the narrative of Ulysses, but I think it's helping as far as my comprehension of what's actually going on in the stream of paragraphs. It seems like this is a better way to read it, at least for me, at least the first time, than trying, sentence-by-sentence, to deconstruct the wording and rebuild an interpretation.
I had quite a lot of other thoughts today about Ulysses, which I'd intended to talk about in today's post, but they slipped from my mind when I got into the text. I might want to start writing additional posts for this blog, not directly associated with the pages themselves.