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TIME: Almanac 1993
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TIME Almanac 1993.iso
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30wake
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1992-09-25
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53 lines
Finnegans Wake
(May 8, 1939)
All children are afraid of the night; when they grow up, they
are still afraid, but more afraid of admitting it. In this
frightening darkness men lie down to sleep and dream.
Generations of diviners, black magicians, fortune tellers and
poets have made night and dreams their province, interpreting
the troubled images that float through men's sleeping minds as
omens of good & evil. Only of late have psychologists asserted
that drams tell nothing about men's future, much about their
hidden or forgotten past. In dreams, this past floats, usually
uncensored and distorted, to the surface of their slumbering
consciousness.
This week, for the first time, a writer had attempted to make
articulate this wordless world of sleep. The writer is James
Joyce; the book Finnegans Wake -- final title of his
long-heralded Work in Progress. In his 57 years this erudite and
fanciful Irishman, for homes in exile all over Europe, has
written two books that have influenced the work of his
contemporaries more than any others of his time: A Portrait of
the Artist as a Young Man, the best of innumerable novels
picturing an artist's struggle with his environment; Ulysses,
considered baffling and obscure 15 years ago, now accepted as
a modern masterpiece.
Finnegans Wake is a difficult book -- too difficult for most
people to read. In fact, it cannot be "read" in the ordinary
sense. It is perhaps the most consciously obscure work that a
man of acknowledged genius has produced. Its four sections run
to 628 pages and from its first line:
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend
of bay
to its last:
A way a lone a last a loved a long the there is not a sentence
to guide the reader in interpreting it; there is not a single
direct statement of what it is about, where its action takes
place, what, in the simplest sense it means.
As a gigantic laboratory experiment with language, Finnegans
Wake is bound to exert an influence far beyond the circle of its
immediate readers. Whether Joyce is eventually convicted of
assaulting the King's English with intent to kill or whether he
was really added a cubit to her stature, she will never be quite
the same again.