Lovely, thought provoking essay. Of the three works you discuss, I’m most familiar with “To the Lighthouse.” I try to read it once a year, without much success. (October, already!) I read “The Trial” and “Ulysses” many years ago; willing to go back to the latter. I find Woolf’s interiority more compelling, and accessible. I think it’s brilliant that you’ve grouped these three books and writers together.
As to your invitation to join you as a guest in 2025: YES! This is a great honor. Thank you for your invitation. I’m working my way through the incredible posts here. Woolf can wait.😊
I love this photo of Monroe reading Ulysses! Art, for me, is both exploring the microcosm and macrocosm. There are pitfalls of staying too far on either end of the spectrum. I find when I'm in the most ideal creative space, i'm switching between both modes and drawing connections between them.
Beautiful post. All I know is that without art my life would indeed feel like nothingness. It is in art that I find solace, again and again, and it is through art that I work things out for myself. Take that away and what am I left with? The craziness of the world? Depressing politics?
A compelling argument. Art can also be a way of shaping chaotic experiences, giving them order, and thereby gaining control over those memories.
I also wonder if sometimes art can just be a celebration of wonder or a form of play. Our own lives might end, but does that imply nothingness? All around us there are children playing, flowers blooming, bees doing their thing. I'm starting to question the nothingness premise. Even as a humanist, I think it's possible to reject the notion that there's no inherent meaning in the world.
Of the writers you cite, I can claim some depth of familiarity only with Joyce. I think your point about always knowing where and when we are in Ulysses does give the book coherence. As well Ulysses has a keen sense of the power of history. For example, that wonderful line of Stephen's in the first few pages: "It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked lookingglass of a servant." Or Stephen' imagining medieval Dubliners coming out to hack away at a beached whale to feed themselves., saying to himself "Their blood is in me."
Lovely, thought provoking essay. Of the three works you discuss, I’m most familiar with “To the Lighthouse.” I try to read it once a year, without much success. (October, already!) I read “The Trial” and “Ulysses” many years ago; willing to go back to the latter. I find Woolf’s interiority more compelling, and accessible. I think it’s brilliant that you’ve grouped these three books and writers together.
As to your invitation to join you as a guest in 2025: YES! This is a great honor. Thank you for your invitation. I’m working my way through the incredible posts here. Woolf can wait.😊
Wonderful, Mary!
A fascinating essay, Mary. And I loved the quote by Woolf about being ill. Thank you.
That line one of my favorites too, Jeffrey: We are so aligned.
I love this photo of Monroe reading Ulysses! Art, for me, is both exploring the microcosm and macrocosm. There are pitfalls of staying too far on either end of the spectrum. I find when I'm in the most ideal creative space, i'm switching between both modes and drawing connections between them.
I loved this literary journey!
Lovely! and my thank, Jeremy.
Ps. And I love the watercolour!!
Oh, Imola, learning ...
Beautiful post. All I know is that without art my life would indeed feel like nothingness. It is in art that I find solace, again and again, and it is through art that I work things out for myself. Take that away and what am I left with? The craziness of the world? Depressing politics?
Thank you, Imola. So agree with what you say about the solace of art, Imola.
I believe in art’s ability to lift the spirit so much that I wrote this comment with tears in my eyes, Mary. Your art is beautiful
A compelling argument. Art can also be a way of shaping chaotic experiences, giving them order, and thereby gaining control over those memories.
I also wonder if sometimes art can just be a celebration of wonder or a form of play. Our own lives might end, but does that imply nothingness? All around us there are children playing, flowers blooming, bees doing their thing. I'm starting to question the nothingness premise. Even as a humanist, I think it's possible to reject the notion that there's no inherent meaning in the world.
Beautifully expressed, Josh.
Of the writers you cite, I can claim some depth of familiarity only with Joyce. I think your point about always knowing where and when we are in Ulysses does give the book coherence. As well Ulysses has a keen sense of the power of history. For example, that wonderful line of Stephen's in the first few pages: "It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked lookingglass of a servant." Or Stephen' imagining medieval Dubliners coming out to hack away at a beached whale to feed themselves., saying to himself "Their blood is in me."
Thank you, David. I too, perhaps as you know from my memoir, often quote Joyce.