Poor Joyce must be spinning in his grave. Here’s another comment inspired by “Eveline”:
“She lives in a house that dusts once a week for many years.”
Given this student’s biographical tidbit, maybe Joyce can’t spin in his grave:
“James Joyce was an Irish novelist born in 1882 and pasted away in 1941.”
A student describes the ending of “Desiree’s Baby” thusly:
“There’s one letter left; the rest he is burning in my eyes out of guilt.”
One wonders how this student might have explained the plot of Ulysses:
“You know, before the author ever tells you that Eveline doesn’t get on the boat that she doesn’t take it, as soon as Joyce mentions the boat, as a black mass, it tells you there that she won’t be able to leave, a forboding feeling about the boat tells you that, she just can’t get on it; and so she chooses in the end to continue on with what would happen to be her comfort zone instead of leaving, to what could be so much better, or so much worse then what she already knows about life.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Who says reading literature doesn’t improve the mind?
“Everyone is different and that is what makes us all so different and unique.”
Well, that explains something I’ve been confused about for years.