The good ship Ulysses, slower than the Swift, more joyous.
No sea, no odyssey.
Joyce in Stephen’s Green. A silly quote from Ulysses has Dedalus musing “Crossing Stephen’s, that is, my green…” This isn’t Joyce’s finest nanosecond but it keeps up the realism.
This is not a Joyce monument but 1882 is the year of Joyce’s birth.
This is a painting of Joyce hanging in McDaids pub on Harry Street.
A dapper statue of the young Joyce outside the Oliver St John Gogarty pub.
Incredible three-for-the-price-of-one plaque. Three literary geniuses, two priests, Joyce’s vocation having stalled with his whoring in the Monto. This is by the entrance to the old University College Dublin.
A photo of Joyce in McDaids, but not in McDaids, if you know what I mean. He’s too old in that photo to have been sinking the black in Dublin.
The black door and black gates of Belvedere College Dublin, where Joyce went in his senior years of schooling. It is also my old school. That it was located in Dublin City was part of the education. My headmaster, Bruce Bradley, was also the author of James Joyce’s Schooldays and appears in Joyce documentaries. The school is currently under refurbishment which is why it looks less than salubrious.
This plaque is in Carysfort Avenue, Blackrock, one of the Joyce family’s many domiciles.
This is on the side of the same house in case anyone misses it. The house is called Leoville.
This is on the pavement outside The Bleeding Horse pub.
Julie and I talked to this man. He’s from Hackney, with full cockney accent, and couldn’t believe that his old stomping ground was undergoing gentrification.
A very drunk Dubliner offered to take a photo of Julie and I at the statue of James Joyce on Talbot Street, irreverently nicknamed in typical Dublin rhyming slang ‘the prick with the stick.’
Photos: Julie Goldsmith