Reading Joyce with Joy - Dubliners

by James Joyce

Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Fury lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. - from the Dead

I am not particularly fond of short stories but find Dubliners a pleasant read. Joyce's language did the trick, the eloquency of the narrative and the natural flow of tender sentiments. It's seemly simple and absolutely beautiful.

I know this even more clearly by comparison. Just finished reading Annie Proulx's Close Range: Wyoming Stories. They are, I suppose, also fairly well written; yet I could feel the intense manipulation of the style and the laborous choice of words, and I could also discern the earnest intention of the author, which made her work much less elegant or touching.

Makes me wonder about Ulysses, which I abandoned after a few chapters and disliked it since because I felt so lost reading it. Is it just me?