Happy Bloomsday!
A copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses, with Ernest Hemingway’s signature. From the Ernest Hemingway Collection at the John F. Kennedy Library.
An archival note states the pages of the book are not cut - implying Hemingway might never have read this copy.
But before we get too judgmental, have you ever read Ulysses?
I’ve tried, but failed to make it through. I haven’t ruled out trying again.
I read it in college for my seminar course. It was a requirement for me to graduate, and I went into it thinking “Ugh, fine, I’ll read it and get it out of the way,” but I ended up really enjoying it. I had a great professor and really smart classmates, so it was kind of like a twentieth-century-classics book club. With a pretty bad grade at the end. And no wine.
Yeah, the only reason I’m bummed to be spending this particular weekend in NYC is that I’m missing Philadelphia’s wonderful Bloomsday read-a-thon at the Rosenbach, ending on Drucie McDaniel’s killer Molly Bloom “soliloquy.” If you can, you should go. You WILL cry.
