What did he mean by this?

What did he mean by this?

But no, seriously: what was he trying to do here?

It's essentially a big prose poem that uses references as a way of guiding your subconscious. It's about the fall and redemption of man and the cyclical nature of history.

a narration from an outpost in hyperreality

Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek

Read it with a drunk Irish accent and pretend you're purposefully playing with language and attempting to do the most outrageously experimental artistic work you possibly can because you firmly believe you're the greatest writer in the history of the world and the truth is you may actually be and do all that all while having syphilitic hallucinations and probably worried/knowing you're going to die before you complete it.

Don't worry, you still won't understand it.

No farting on my board, good sir!

How triggered can you get over a piece of literature? Like nigger you pop into every goddamn single Joyce thread and post this fucking comment.

>you pop
>you
>what is a copy pasta

Are you really trying to pretend your post is a copypasta? Nigger you post the same idea but you reword it differently every time. It's YOU and ONLY you who posts this shit. It's not a copy pasta. It's especially not a copy pasta either if it's only one person doing it all by themself.

It's a celebration of the strangeness of language. Only the extremely well read will be able to understand every twist and tweak, so it's also an in-joke in some ways.

>what was he trying to do here?
Sing.

>implying there's a difference to any of the Joyce threads on Veeky Forums
>implying anyone here will ever have any better answer to fucking Finnegans Wake
>implying there will ever be any answer at all to fucking Finnegans Wake
lol. Get fucked, moron.

Irish Hypersphere fanfic desu

I actually read the whole thing because I had to. I was entering a prestigious PhD program and focusing on Joyce because I loved Dubliners, Portrait, and Ulysses. To my shame, though, I'd never read the Wake. I'd never even tried, as hard as that was to admit. It was this huge blind spot and area of vulnerability for me. Whenever it'd come up with my colleagues I'd just smile and nod, smile and nod, hoping they wouldn't ask me anything specific about it. "The musicality of it," somebody would say, and I'd say, "Oh God, yes, it's like Beethoven." Finally, though, I had to dive into it, and let me tell you it was tough going. Joseph Campbell's guide helped a lot. Reading it out loud helped. I listened to other people read it, read online commentaries. Eventually it started to make some sort of sense. It was like I was learning to read for the first time again, and in a way this was enjoyable. I got better at reading the book. Soon I was reading entire paragraphs without trouble, getting the puns, laughing at the jokes. I could sort of follow the story, it was like a blurry picture resolving into clarity, or like I was drunk and I was sobering up, I could actually understand it. As I became more and more adept at reading the Wake, I began putting myself to the test, initiating conversations with my colleagues about it, but specific passages this time, specific parts of the book. You can probably guess what happened. After a number of these conversations it became blindingly obvious that I understood the book a lot better than they did, they who I thought were the experts. It eventually became sort of embarrassing for them and I stopped trying to talk about it. And at the end of the day I would pack my things, catch the bus home, and settle into my apartment to read the Wake. It had surpassed all of Joyce's other works in my estimation. Ulysses, the book months earlier I would've named as my favorite of all time, the best book ever written, was now #2 to the Wake. So majestic, so ambitious, so wide-ranging, erudite, glorious, incredible was it that I couldn't believe that it was the work of one man. Best of all, the heart of it isn't complicated at all. What did I get from the Wake, what are its lessons? First of all, be yourself. Second of all, put one foot in front of the other. And lastly, just do it for crying out loud, time's a wastin'!

Everything Joyce wrote was 10/10

Except the wake. The wake is a steaming pile of word shit. The dude had clearly lost his mind at that point and was just writing absolute gibberish to stave off the schizophrenia. 1/10 trash.

I've read 3 pages and thought it not worth the trouble, but this makes me want to try again, just because of your sheer enjoyment.

Of course, I only have a bachelor's degree and it's in Communications so it may not be worth it after all.

Nice pasta

literary shitposting

kek

Can you tell me if what they say is true then, that you can start reading it at any point, and that it's like a Rorschach test were the reader finds the details personally to them? or in your findings have you discovered these things to be untrue?

everything

if it is just gibberish then please explain how scholars keep finding more and more meanings from it, just like joyce wanted? may be gibberish for you, but it is a gibberish with meaning.

>"The pity is the public will demand and find a moral in my book — or worse they may take it in some more serious way, and on the honor of a gentleman, there is not one single serious line in it."
>"One great part of every human existence is passed in a state which cannot be rendered sensible by the use of wideawake language, cutanddry grammar and goahead plot."
>"If I gave it all up immediately, I'd lose my immortality. I've put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that's the only way of insuring one's immortality."

Calm down buddy, I'm just defending that miserable user

It's a pasta

What? He literally only said the truth.

>he didn't start w/ the greeks

bowwow

he knew. didn't you catch the bachelor's in communications reference?

Pasta or not, this is pretty much accurate. It's a book of sounds, partly because Joyce thought the auditory sense was the one that never lost consciousness, mixed with vague ideas that almost make sense. You get the feeling of being half asleep, being aware that you're asleep, but still knowing that the logic your mind applies to the sensory information is inscrutable, even though convincing. Meaning, logic, language all ebb and flow, build and decay, heralded by the Humpty Dumpty talk at the beginning.

There are a few moments of clarity and then you can feeling morning coming. It's not easy, nor is it always rewarding, but ultimately I'm glad I pronounced every word on every page. Life is a little different because of it.

sorry user, it's a pasta

If you have to ask, it's not meant for you to bother reading