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A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1914)

by James Joyce

Other authors: See the other authors section.

MembersReviewsPopularityAverage ratingConversations / Mentions
17,927177174 (3.7)1 / 580
"In 'A portrait of the artist as a young man, ' Joyce describes the early life of Stephen Dedalus: significant memories from infancy, schooldays, family life, his first taste of sin, guilt, repentance-- and his passage to freedom as he elects to leave Ireland forever. This is, in effect, an autobiography. Stephen is Joyce; every person he encounters and every incident he experiences, is drawn from life. The writing, though, displays the colour and imagination of the very finest fiction, in language which cries out to be read aloud"--Container.… (more)
  1. 30
    Swann's Way by Marcel Proust (emydid)
  2. 42
    The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger (roby72)
  3. 10
    Demian by Hermann Hesse (poetontheone)
  4. 10
    World Light by Halldór Laxness (owen1218)
  5. 00
    Stephen Hero by James Joyce (KayCliff)
  6. 00
    Mary Olivier: A Life by May Sinclair (CurrerBell)
    CurrerBell: See my review of Mary Olivier for Sinclair's resemblance to Joyce.
  7. 00
    Station Island by Seamus Heaney (kara.shamy)
  8. 00
    The Mountain and the Valley by Ernest Buckler (mArC0)
    mArC0: These are both stories where the young artist is trying to break free of a culture that they find beautiful and oppressive: The mountain and the valley.
  9. 01
    Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt (KayCliff)
  10. 03
    Hamlet by William Shakespeare (kara.shamy)
  11. 03
    Orfeo: A Novel by Richard Powers (kara.shamy)
1910s (7)
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English (169)  Dutch (3)  Spanish (2)  Portuguese (1)  Swedish (1)  All languages (176)
Showing 1-5 of 169 (next | show all)
Rambling, clever, and as oftentimes difficult as its big brother Ulysses. And yet this book never quite grabbed me the way that other work did. Maybe the book's time frame (some eighteen years compared to Ulysses's single day) left it harder to get really involved in the same way. Or maybe the problem is something James Atherton points out in my copy's introduction, by the end of the book we know the main character better than most other literary figures, indeed Joyce barely deigns to mention the other characters beyond their names and their dialogue. And maybe that's the problem: by the end of the book I knew Stephen Daedalus very well; I just didn't like him that much. ( )
  imlee | Jul 7, 2020 |
It turns out that Joyce and I are just not a good match. I am actually quite fond of the way that he uses language, but I am not a fan of the way he uses plot, character and structure. I was quite interested in the first third of the book, but then it reached the all-religion-all-the-time point and, although the language was quite gorgeous in parts, I found myself tuning out entirely because I just didn't care. And then the university section was a tiresome struggle to the finish.

So many reviews of this book seem to talk about it as though you can judge intellect by people's appreciation of a particular novel or author. It's like the reverse Dan Brown. It's also completely false logic. Taste and intelligence are not the same thing. You can "get" Joyce and still not enjoy him. I appreciate the innovations he made and the impact he has had on the modern novel. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to enjoy reading his work.

Just because something is a classic, people, that doesn't mean you have to like it! It certainly doesn't mean you should pretend to like it, for fear of being thought stupid if you admit that it wasn't your thing.

I didn't like this. I also didn't like Ulysses. If you didn't like them either, that's okay. You're no less of a reader, a literature lover or an intellect for it :)
  Tara_Calaby | Jun 22, 2020 |
I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use — silence, exile and cunning.

In its historical context, Portrait of the Artist is groundbreaking. As it reads now, there is a self-interest that becomes a little too much to stomach after awhile. The most powerful moments occur during Stephen Dedalus's formative years as a sensitive youth somewhat set apart from his contemporaries, as illustrated by his defense of Byron's poetry against accusations of blasphemy. His quest for a new aesthetic in his later years feels trite and somewhat self-important by contrast. Obviously, my bias as a 21st century reader is difficult to overcome, but I've read so many solipsistic Künstlerroman in my lifetime that it's hard to be objective. Though, to be fair, almost all of them were after Joyce, so I suppose I would have felt differently had I read this one first. ( )
  drbrand | Jun 8, 2020 |
Formally brilliant, this exemplar of modernist prose is also tremendously dark, at times tedious, and at others esoteric. ( )
  TheaJean | Jun 2, 2020 |
Kudos to LitCharts for explaining a whole bunch of stuff to me that would've gone way over my head otherwise. I overall enjoyed this, but I really struggled to stay focused - had I not been on holiday, I would've tried to get an audiobook and listen while reading. ( )
  j_tuffi | May 30, 2020 |
Showing 1-5 of 169 (next | show all)
"Øynene hennes hadde kalt på ham, og sjelen hans hadde sprunget henne i møte. Å leve, å feile, å falle, å seire, å gjenskape liv av liv! En vill engel hadde vist seg for ham, ungdommens og skjønnhetens - forgjengelighetens engel, et sendebud fra livets fagre hoff som var kommet for i et øyeblikk av ekstase å åpne for ham porten inn til all verdens synd og herlighet. Videre og videre ... "

Stephen Dedalus er et portrett av James Joyce som ung mann. Historien om Stephen Dedalus ble påbegynt i 1904, først påtenkt som novelle under tittelen Stephen Hero, etter hvert utviklet til en roman. Deler ble først trykt i tidsskrifter; hele boken utkom i USA i 1916, i England året etter.
added by kirstenlund | editwww.cappelendamm.no (Apr 19, 2004)
 

» Add other authors (125 possible)

Author nameRoleType of authorWork?Status
Joyce, Jamesprimary authorall editionsconfirmed
Alonso, DámasoTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Anderson, Chester G.Editorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Atherton, J.S.Introductionsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Atterbom, EbbaTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Bindervoet, ErikTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Brown, RichardIntroductionsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Burgess, AnthonyIntroductionsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Deane, SeamusContributorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Ellmann, RichardEditorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Franken, GerardineTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Henkes, Robbert-JanTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Jacques, RobinCover artistsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Keogh, BrianIllustratorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Kerner, HughIntroductionsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Knuth, LeoTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Lee, JohnNarratorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Masterman, DodieIllustratorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Norton, JimNarratorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Olofsson, TommyTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Pavese, CesareTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Rathjen, FriedhelmTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Reichert, KlausTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
Skoumal, AloysTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed

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Epigraph
"Et ignotas animum dimittit in artes." ~ ovid, metamorphoses VIII, 188
Dedication
Con deidica di Simone
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Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo....
Quotations
Sometimes a fever gathered within him and led him to rove alone in the evening along the quiet avenue. The peace of the gardens and the kindly lights in the windows poured a tender influence into his restless heart. The noise of children at play annoyed him and their silly voices made him feel, even more keenly than he had felt at Clongowes, that he was different from others. He did not want to play. He wanted to meet in the real world the unsubstantial image which his soul so constantly beheld. He did not know where to seek it or how, but a premonition which led him on told him that this image would, without any overt act of his, encounter him. They would meet quietly as if they had known each other and had made their tryst, perhaps at one of the gates or in some more secret place. They would be alone, surrounded by darkness and silence: and in that moment of supreme tenderness he would be transfigured.
O! In the virgin womb of the imagination the word was made flesh. Gabriel the seraph had come to the virgin's chamber. An afterglow deepened within his spirit, whence the white flame had passed, deepening to a rose and ardent light.
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Penguin Australia

2 editions of this book were published by Penguin Australia.

Editions: 0142437344, 0141182660

Tantor Media

An edition of this book was published by Tantor Media.

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Urban Romantics

2 editions of this book were published by Urban Romantics.

Editions: 1907832394, 1907832408

Recorded Books

An edition of this book was published by Recorded Books.

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