good god.

where do I begin?

Joyce's novels have a clear evolution of style. A Portrait begins with the raw simplicity of an early mind and gradually grows into the thoughtful and rich inner life of a young adult. Ulysses picks up where that left off, expanding not in time but in space, grabbing every style and technique until the novel's a textual Monster singing a mature song. That book dwarfs most all that came before it, and even a great portion of what came after. It took Joyce seven years to sculpt.

But then he made one more. And this one took 17 years. (He went blind in the process. His loved ones turned against him, thinking him a madman. The world shifted into a new war. His daughter was institutionalized for schizophrenia. The context that went into this one was... thornier.) He somehow finished it. And then, two years later, died before he could explain what he had brought into the world. Smart minds have tried for nearly a century now to figure it out. Whenever they try, they discover something profound that brings a revolutionary change. (I am not joking. Joseph Campbell tried for an entire decade to understand this book, and what he came out with was the theory of the Monomyth, inspiring him to study ancient cultures and craft The Hero with a Thousand Faces. The Hero's Journey, which literally gave us modern Hollywood as we know it. Jacques Derrida tried for an entire decade too to understand this book, and what he came out of it with was a little something called Post-Structuralist Linguistics, the philosophical code on which all our modern lives run whether we know it or not. Murray Gell-Man studied this book and came out of it with a renewed passion for quantum physics, literally taking from it the word "quark." Honorary mention goes to Anthony Burgess, devoted Joyce scholar, who named A Clockwork Orange using language principles taken from this book; also to Samuel Beckett, whose bleak and brilliant plays pursue human nature boiled down to usually two identities-- Beckett was Joyce's secretary in writing This Book; also to Marshall McLuhan, whose keen eye for the mechanics of medium predicted and defined much of the modern Internet-- in his own words, all his theories are "applied Joyce." There were prominent circles on the early Internet that brought This Book onto the web and used it to advocate for and develop an Open Internet, an Open World.)

This Book. This, which took the monumental Ulysses as a starting point, and gestated for a gruelling seventeen years, before somehow being finished. This Book. Made up of a counted 70 different languages, with the goal of putting the British Empire and the Catholic Church to shame, this Book contains the history of the world in it and then still has 400 pages left to go. It takes us inward, to the formation in the brain of language and the trauma we all share. It takes us outward, to the group dynamics that all humans play, the greatest and oldest competition still going strong today, the Nostalgia for When We Were United, before We Ourselves decided to split. It takes us, too, neither inward nor outward, in a sacred direction, to the mysteries we dare not even think lest we come apart at the seams. This.... book.

Finnegans Wake.

What is there to say? That is the question. And as long as people try to avoid reading it, we will always move backwards, as this book beat us to progress. It was, indeed, a Work in Progress.

But don't let that get you down!

Its reputation is really the hardest thing here, and the Wake even presaw that! Reputation is the oldest social game, the game of "pretend that metaphorical Cloud created by our words is not real," of "pretend that Great Men got Great by birth and merit." "Pretend you don't stand a half-chance in whole heaven." Such a silly game we play.

The thing is, Joyce wasn't trying to shut you up with his intelligence. He wasn't trying to be "pretentious." He was trying what everyone wishes to try: He put his entire brain in a book, like an encyclopedia of sorts, so we wouldn't keep running into the same problems over and over, we could have a reference. "I have read a lot. I have seen a lot. I have thought a lot. Here is my Knowledge. It is open to all. Take it. Compare it with your own. Have a Guide." Much like the last time someone tried that and made the Bible, over time the goals may get perverted and wars break out. But you and me, in the 21st century, we still have time, this Guide is still ours. And none of this is for Joyce's own personal gain, as he's been dead a long time now; the Wake is in the public domain now. Take advantage of it!

So you have a moral explanation for the opportunity before you. A technical explanation would take some more effort, but sure, I'll try that too!

Finnegans Wake is a book of puns. ("If it was good enough for the Saviour, it's good enough for my book." -actual Joyce quote.) It is a maze of puns. It goes in every direction, forwards, backwards, laterally, literally, historically, symbolically, mystically, any of the four types of meaning found in the Bible (of any of the medieval pedagogies). If you skip every other chapter, you'll still find sense. If you switch to the same-numbered chapter of a different Part, you'll still find sense. Puns count in many senses, after all-- there's the way the word looks and then there's many senses that creep up in your brain afterward. All are accounted for here. (Seventeen years, reader. Joyce was thorough.)

What is a pun, anyway, but the condensing of multiple ideas in one word? Isn't it the building-block of a poem? Isn't it the building-block of a thought? Anthropological consensus, last I checked, is that not only is Storytelling mankind's oldest invention, but that the body's natural language is Metaphor. That's what dreams are, your body processing what you've seen, throwing images and sounds together to store more information in less space. Then the process of making sense of those metaphors-- of seeing which symbols fit together the cleanest, and of observing the rhythms of those combinations that aren't necessarily clean-- is, I'd argue at least, who We are, We the conscious dreamers in our nervous lives. What happens if history is processed like a dream, human lineages and the constant scrawls we write down?

So. That's the technical explanation. But really any explanation is just a bunch of words to convince you you're Okay. And there's many more explanations I could give you. I could link you to any of the Hundreds of essays trying to dissect and Talk About the Wake, as they are pretty much all available online, and most of them can even be read for free. (Here's a prominent one. You need to sign up for a free account with JSTOR to properly dig in. "AWN" on this page is another collection of Literally Hundreds, this time downloadable. How about this one, 130 volumes? Or this one? This one's got some of the 10,000 pages of drafts, with footnotes! And this one's got a dozen published books that are now out of circulation!) but, like, you can talk about the Wake for a lifetime. Sometimes you just need to try, to find comfort in a space of utter vertigo, and to find your own significance. This is a lot easier when you already know the general Structure of the book. This means the first time you read (it took me nine months!) is really just practice for the rereads, and, like... maybe you would benefit from already having a sense of it going in?

NOTE: If you have already tried reading the Wake and that first chapter just completely stumps you-- don't be ashamed, it happens to everyone, I'm pretty sure that chapter is deliberately designed to front-load the most intimidating structures-- then please, please consider starting at the second chapter instead. That's where the main character is introduced, in fact the main narrative thread proceeds naturally from that point. And the style is.. still absurd, but a lot more manageable! Just remember, Finnegans Wake primarily runs on English syntax rules! The exceptions are rarer than you'd think! Almost every sentence is a sentence with subject and predicate!

————–

I: THE BOOK OF LIFÉ

(A History of the World!)

I.1: Overture
Long ago, before the Flood, a giant named Finnegan built a city and, with it, a great Tower. He fell and died, and all humanity knew not what to do with themselves. Take a look at this island, and know that every mound of dirt has a history. Even if Finn wanted to rise again, we don't know that we'd let him. We'd rather bury him and have done with it.
FEATURING VIGNETTES:

• The Museyroom, see the relics of the battle of Wellingdone and Lipoleum, Prooshious versus ffrinch!
• Mutt and Jute, a comic dialogue about invader and invaded!
• Jarl von Hoother and the Pranckquean, the oldest peace of illiterative portery! How they all drank free!

I.2: The Humphriad Part 1
The genesis of the name of Humphrey (or Harold) Chimpden Earwicker, solidest man in the city, and the authoritative account of the misunderstanding that brought him down.

• With musical accompaniment by "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly!"

I.3: The Humphriad Part 2
How the tale of his fall spread over generations, and what happened to those who spread it! How the world split into camps of support and condemnation!

• Featuring the weird vignette of ABC, about an old geezer who calls on his skirt!
• And the List of Insults lobbed at our hero!

I.4: The Humphriad Part 3
How the tale finally spawned a criminal investigation! (and more stuff, I haven't reread this chapter in a fair bit.)

I.5: The Letter
Let's examine our understanding of the Letter written to explain HCE. (Let's talk about the Wake, within the Wake.)

I.6: The Quiz
Twelve questions by Shem, twelve answers by Shaun. Let's go over the principal characters and brush upon the broad themes of the Wake.
FEATURING:

• The classic fable, "The Mookse and the Gripes!" The Fox and the Grapes, and the arrival of Christiandom to Ireland!
• The classic tragedy of Burrus and Caseus, butter and cheese competing for sweet Margareena!

I.7: Shem the Penman
A most unbiased history of the lowest forger ever to disgrace mankind: an artist!!! Told by his just brother Shaun.

I.8: Anna Livia Plurabelle
The juicy rumors of HCE's eighth and truest wife, ALP, and what it is she did after he was brought low. Told by one washerwoman to another as night falls, interwoven with hundreds upon hundreds of river names.

• Featuring Anna Livia's poem!

————–

II: ???

(A sprawling evening with the Family! Every one of these chapters is as dense as it gets!)

II.1: The Mime of Mick, Nick, and the Maggies
It's Lighting Up O' Clock, and outside the pub of all mankind, children gather to play the same game they always play, the earliest story ever told, the dawn of human interaction, the war between Michael (St. Mick!) and Lucifer (St. Nick!) for the right to humanity! Shem plays Nick, Shaun plays Mick, the local girls play the angels (the Maggies!) watching over, and little sister Issy sits glooming in the crossfire! Who will win? Who will win the right to be HCE?

II.2: Triv and Quad
After play, the neighbor kids all go home while HCE's kids go upstairs and study from the Schoolbook, the history of their parents and the dawn of austerity. Shem and Shaun learn mathematics and history while Issy learns to write a letter!

• Featuring The Muddest Thick That Was Ever Heard Dump, Dante's Comedy as retold by Shem teaching Shaun Euclid's First Proof and introducing him to the holy sacred geometry of... genitalia.

II.3: Last Supper
Downstairs in the pub, HCE serves alcohol to a rowdy crowd who want to debate right and wrong. Maybe it's you, HCE, who don't belong. It all comes to a head, the patrons desert him, and the Last King of a pre-electric Ireland slumps into a dark sleep after drinking his people's abandoned dregs.
This chapter revolves around two principal narratives:

• Kersse the Tailor and the Norwegian Sailor (or: How a roaming HCE got roped into settling down for marriage?), told on the radio.
• How Buckley Shot the Russian General (or: How HCE's sons will ultimately usurp him?), told on the television.

II.4: Mamalujo (Tristan and Isolde)
Our sleeping King Mark dreams of youth stealing his daughter away from him, peeps in through their window at their kissing, and joins the pathetic Mamalujo in reminiscing in circles and circles of how it all once was. Who made the world?

———–

III: THE BOOK OF SHAUN

(The via crucis at the Watches of Night!)

III.1: Shaun
In the dead of night, a lucid narrator tells us a dream of manly Shaun headed westwards to deliver the mail, tasked with bringing the Letter to the King. Shaun is asked many questions, as we believe in him and want to hear how ready he is.

• Featuring the classic fable "The Ondt and the Gracehoper" as a demonstration of how Shaun is far more creative than the lazy Shem, who really should have been the one to deliver this stupid Letter! The Ondt saved up all his money while the Gracehoper-- Shem-- just wasted his days away having sex! But the Gracehoper was not ready for the cold deadly winter, and now the Ondt is the one to have all the sex! God, I hope the Gracehoper doesn't come by, he scares my guilt with his righteousness!

III.2: Jaun
We next see Jaun the suave teenager taking a much-needed break, talking to the local girls' night school, telling them all how to live and treat their man! But he has the most to say to dear sister Issy, as this may be the last she'll ever hear from him! Don't worry, dear sister, Jaun is leaving you with a good buddy who will make sure you stay pious! Don't cheat on Jaun with this new guy, he looks rather Shem-ish! Kay, bye! (Then Jaun dies, but his spirit carries on the quest!)

III.3: Yawn
Finally, we find Yawn the big baby sleeping, fatigued, at the dead center of Ireland! And in comes the holy Mamalujo to cover him from all angles and interrogate him thoroughly in hopes of navigating the map of the souls within and teasing out that long-lost king, that much-needed city-building hero, HCE!

• Culminating in the extravagant monologue "Haveth Childers Everywhere," where old Adam Amsterdam boasts of all the Empire he's built, interweaved with hundreds of city names!

III.4: Dawn
in the dead of night, narrators lose sight of the dream and witness the divine: old man Porter wakes up in his sleep, goes upstairs, and fucks his wife, interrupted only by their crying son having a nightmare. (it has been a very long time since I last reread this chapter.)

• There's a weird vignette here about Honuphrius, a bleak bureaucratic tale about what becomes of the investigation into HCE's fall, and the rights (or lack thereof) of his wife.

———–

IV: RICORSO

(Soft morning, ours!)

IV:
The tale of the first rays of light from the sun as they travel across Ireland and into HCE and ALP and all that concern them. The grand summary of all that has passed in an erratic stable Something. The morning mail is delivered. ALP has her last monologue, the river of life reaching the sea of death, and following that river, we notice a Way along the riverrun. The Wake repeats. (And I have been putting off my reread of this one.)
This chapter features our last vignettes:

• Saint Kevin, who meditates on the insularity of water by insulating himself in a bathtub on an island in a lake on an island in a lake on an island in a lake!
• The Triptych of Saint Patrick! Saint Patrick arrives in Ireland and has a debate with the Archdruid over whether reality is tainted green (Patrick's position) or, in fact, many colors (the Archdruid's position). Patrick wins.
• Muta and Juva, a solemn dialogue celebrating the imminent rebirth of our fallen king!

I'M TIRED

The Wake has a wild structure to it. Many of the same old stories get retold later on in new lights, and the identities of the characters kinda change frequently. Is it all "just a dream," in the end? I mean, probably. But that needn't dismiss the significance of any of it. The dream provided the style for the interaction of symbols, a dizzying implication that every night during that empty stretch of time we're neither conscious nor even dreaming our body is retelling the genetic history of all we've ever been. We are always Alive. We are always Everyone. (Here Comes Everybody.) The Plot is so much more than just a series of events; it is a machine of meanings and rhythms.

look. I've been typing this page for hours. I have a headache and a half and need a break. read Finnegans Wake. it's incredible. that link is good, or find another way. there are lots of ways to read it.