Joyce’s first novel begins with an evocation of the sensations of infancy. Snatches of story and song and smell (for even the highest flights of this author’s aesthetic fancy are rooted in common realities) are summoned to the page. In this elemental welter of sound and sense, Joyce suggests, a writer’s education begins. Stephen Dedalus is the writer in question, and the early portions of Joyce’s fiercely autobiographical coming-of-age novel show him growing up and then rebelling against his family, his country, and his religion, while never quite escaping his conflicted affection for each.
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