Lipper/Viking, 179 pp., $19.95
James Joyce was a tireless promoter of his own work and reputation. The silence that was one of the three principles of his stated artistic game plan—the other two were exile and cunning—was not so much Olympian impassivity as the twitching stony-facedness of the ventriloquist. He granted no interviews, did no literary hackwork, and ignored the achievements of his peers—though he did give an encomium to Anita Loos's Gentlemen Prefer Blondes—but never relaxed in the covert business of making his various supporters advertise, praise, and explain to a baffled public his increasingly difficult writings.
Review, 2550 words
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