"Portrait of the Artist.." is perhaps one of the more accesable of James Joyces books, and also, for me one of the most enjoyable. The actual "story" of the book, is blataly autobiographical, concerning Stephen Dedalus/James Joyce's early life, at school - first encounters with women, and the enourmous inner conflict with Religion. The story is of little consequence really.. however, you've got to admire Joyce's honesty, if this truely is autobiographical. He has the irritating habit of trying to make Dedalus/Joyce seem somehow, superior, more intelligent than his peers, without actualy ever demonstrating this superiority at all. And, I'm afraid, I couldn't relate to the Religious conflict at all.. however it is an interesting insight. What does make this unique is the language, the "stream of conciousness" style, which at times, like at the end of the fourth chapter can be awesomely beautiful. It is this quality that makes Joyce worth reading. By his close observation and use of language he is sometimes able to completely transport the reader, intoxicate the reader. There is, however, an uneasy air which hangs over the works of James Joyce, and I can't quite put my finger on it...
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