I recently reread Ulysses, prompted largely by Michael Foley’s book Embracing The Ordinary. Foley draws on the two outstanding writers Joyce and Proust in his exploration of the ordinariness of the human condition. Foley celebrates the writing of Joyce as the supreme example of making the ordinary extraordinary. In Ulysses, during a single day we see the antihero, Bloom, go about his business doing the ordinary things that people do. There is no plot, just as our own lives have no plot (although we are all capable of constructing the possible plot of our lives retrospectively).
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