How on earth are you supposed to read this? whenever I am feel smart...

Sorry buddy but that's how you've chosen to read every single book in your life, whether you realize it or not. Unless you flip coins to determine what you read next

Everything you have chosen to read is because it has been advertised to you in one way or another

Many of the greatest literary critics and writers value this book tremendously. And I value their opinion, which means I am particularly determined to read it. Unfortunately, it is just so damn difficult to read.

>I say just go into it, take your time on every single sentence without driving yourself crazy, and always either read out loud or subvocalize, because that's the only way you can understand most of the words

OK I will start with that way first. Thanks.

I urge you to think of the book like some kind of experimental/avant-garde pop song

It isn't accessible by any stretch of the imagination but it is more FUN than most books you will ever read

Good luck!

No, you didn't understand me. I asked WHY would you want to read it.
Obviously, marketing and publicity influence any kind of choice, but usually when people pick up a book to read, they do it with a certain goal in mind. Fiction, philosophy, history, you read a book because the subject of it seems thrilling, creative, enlightening, useful etc.
But your only answer as to why you want to read FW is - "cause a list told me".

I wonder what are its translations into other languages like.

>But your only answer as to why you want to read FW is - "cause a list told me".
Are you just not reading the thread? Here's a good lists of recommended posts you should read to understand my take on the subject:

I want to know this too, apparently it's a best seller in China

What the fuck did they do to make that happen?

Two of these posts prattle on about some wordplay dogshit (you're supposed to stop finding letters funny once you grow up) and another refers to a website. Thats depressing, man

You're yanking my chain here, guy

The man who translated the best Russian version (Nico Kiasashvil) spent 25 years translating it into Georgian.

*Nico Kiasashvili.

I forgot the 'i' at the end of his last name.

Jesus.
That's almost more impressive than the work Joyce put into it, I can't even begin to image that task

maybe just don't read trying to decipher it or trying to understanding something? just go reading with ' mind for wordplay—' as user said, just go with it

All summer long I read from FW just before going to sleep. After I'd do my "regular" reading for the day, I'd turn off the lights and grab FW (on a backlit ereader). I'd already be very tired at this point and reading in the dark from a backlit screen strains the eyes even further. I'd read about 2-5 pages at best before the reader would fall on my face, literally. I didn't use a companion or notes of any kind. I've read the first two chapters like this. I did not understand anything at all. Nothing. I have no idea whatsoever what was going on. To all of you who think you're stupid for not getting it: I'll bet you still understood and remember something. Not me though. Every time I picked it up I would turn to the last read page but I'd have no recollection reading it.

Still, it was a very enjoyable experience and it helped me drift to sleep. As soon as I started reading, that paradoxical, ethereal state of mind at the twilight between wakefulness and sleep would settle in but would not give in to actual sleep for a while--how long, I could never tell. During this time I would feel the inner structures of my mind, my neurons, my thoughts, sort of rearranged by the words on the page. It's been somewhat psychedelical, although I have absolutely no experience with mind altering drugs, so I'm not sure how accurate that descriptor is. I would always sleep well afterwards and sometimes I'd have weird dreams--I mean weirder than usual. Best mind relaxer and sleeping pill I've ever had. I only stopped it because i got to reading something else and because, one day, I'd like to take it up again, this time systematically, with notes and commentaries and such. Although i have the feeling that I'll still not get it and perhaps enjoy even it less than reading it before sleep.

I'm still not sure if this is the most plebeian way of approaching FW or the most unintentionally patrician.

Reading it is genuinely entertaining, especially out loud. I heard an audiobook sample of it once, and even reader couldn't stop laughing at almost every page.

Reado it halloo'd, like a poem. Relish in the sounds and the sense will start to treacle in.

I found a copy of this for $2 the other day so I bought it as a meme. Anyway, I was flipping through it seeing if I could find anything I could understand, and I found this:

"In the name of Annah the Allmaziful, the Everliving, the Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven."

>mfw

"Shize? I should shee! Macool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie?
of a trying thirstay mournin? Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's
chrissormiss wake, all the hoolivans of the nation, prostrated in
their consternation and their duodisimally profusive plethora of
ululation. There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers
and raiders and cinemen too."

I just want to show an example of how to think about the book. If you can follow the plot, up to this point the book has described the area around Howth Castle and Dublin, and told the tale of a drunkard named Finnegan who drunkenly fell off a ladder to his death while constructing a brick wall.

>Macool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie? of a trying thirstay mournin?

Phonetically written like a sobbing drunk Irishman, someone mourns him at his wake. "Oh why did you die?"
"Of a trying thirstay mournin?" has multiple double-meanings, with "thirstay" being both "thirsty" and "Thursday," and "mournin" being both "mourning" and "morning."

>Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's chrissormiss wake,

"Sighdid" is sighted/sigh/did, meaning they were sobbing and sighing as well as seeing others around them sob.

>There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too.

One of my favorite sentences in the book. It has a triple meaning, it a) describes the different sorts of people attending, b) describes all the food at the wake, and c) is all a reference to a line from the Irish carol "Miss Fogarty's Christmas Cake"
plumbs = plumbers/plums, grumes = grooms/prunes, cheriffs = sheriffs/cherrie, citherers = citrons/zitherers, raiders = raiders/raisins, cinemen = cinnamon/men

Cheat. There are all kinds of scholarly and literary companions and commentaries on it that have been written since before it was called "work in progress". Unless you enjoy reading gibberish (which admittedly has its own appeal), there's no reason to force yourself to go in cold.
Scholars and writers haven't figured out a tenth of the content in it. But that's kind of the point - it begins and ends mid-sentence. There's no bottom.

Why is raiders also raisins? I can understand the other stuff once you explain it but not that one

Because of the lyrics of the actual song

There were plums and prunes and cherries,
There were citrons and raisins and cinnamon, too