Search Results for 'Ulysses'

part II

We get out of bed at nine, and Nora makes chocolate. At midday we have lunch which we (or rather she) buys (soup, meat, potatoes and some thing else)...At 4 o’clock we have chocolate, and at 8 o’clock dinner which Nora cooks.

JUNE 16 1904 is the date when James Joyce's novel Ulysses is set. It was the date of his own first date with Nora Barnacle, and June 16 is today Bloomsday, the annual event celebrating Joyce's most famous novel.

THIS EVENING [April 16] at 8.30pm Charlie Byrne’s Bookshop hosts Robert Gogan’s entertaining and illuminating show on James Joyce’s Ulysses, entitled Strolling Through Ulysses.

Following his narrow escape from Republican forces, who were intent on killing him by the banks of the Liffey that cold night in January 1923, Oliver St John Gogarty wisely took himself off to London. He immediately became the toast of polite society there who delighted in his stories and witty conversation.

A precocious and cleverly witty Trinity student in a yellow waistcoat, Oliver St John Gogarty, was to become a close friend of Sinn Féin's founder Arthur Griffith. At its first historic meeting, November 28 1905, Gogarty proclaimed against the 'tyranny of the British government', in the grand manner of a Cicero addressing the Roman senate. But so moving and compelling were his words that when Griffith reported the meeting in his newspaper The United Irishman, Gogarty's speech was the only one he quoted. And he did so at length.

Galway

FIONNUALA FLANAGAN, the only Irish actor to play guest roles on three different Star Trek series - The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Enterprise - will give the actor’s masterclass at this year’s Galway Film Fleadh.

WHILE DUBLINERS were observing Bloomsday by donning Edwardian costumes and retracing Leopold Bloom’s feted journey around the capital, in Galway the day saw the opening of Ann Marie Horan’s very enjoyable one-woman play Nora Barnacle – Signora Joyce.

On a late afternoon last August, my friend John Hill drove me across the city of Zurich, climbing the suburban heights until we stopped at the gates of Fluntern Cemetery. We walked up the last incline to where, among the trees and billard-table lawns, we saw the Joyces’ grave. There was no mistaking it. Just above the grave is the Giacometti-like sculpture of the writer himself, the work of American artist Milton Hebald. There James Joyce sits, in characteristic pose, deep in conversation, head tilted, one leg resting on the other knee, cigarette poised, his slim cane delicately balanced. Someone once remarked that he held his cane like a musical instrument.