And a happy December
Strangely enough, when I look at the statistics for this blog, this is the post that garners the most views. I don’t know if that means there are an awful lot of Joyce fans in the world or what, but since it is December, and WordPress has once again graced us with snow, and this is still the Sacramento Valley (so we won’t be seeing the real stuff), I present you with one of my fondest memories from college: reading James Joyce’s “The Dead” while watching the snow fall heavily to the ground.
“Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly on the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crocked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last, upon all the living and the dead.”