Product Description

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #82166 in Books
• Published on: 1991-05-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 152 pages

From Library Journal
Joyce's classic has been recorded before, of course, but in this new version, each of the 15 stories will be read by a different person, including writers Frank McCourt, Malachy McCourt, and Patrick McCabe, and actors Ciaran Hinds and Colm Meaney.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From AudioFile
Jim Norton continues his interpretation of James Joyce's classic volume of short stories, originally published in 1914. Norton give us lively characterizations between narration delivered with a solemn detachment. I'm not sure this approach dovetails the author's narrative voice. Whether it does or not, it isn't particularly interesting. Y.R. © AudioFile 2001, Portland, Maine-- Copyright © AudioFile, Portland, Maine

Review
". . . the stories have a certain beauty, especially in a new recording from Caedmon Audio. Dubliners will endure not only because it's Joyce, but also because of the people performing it. The list of narrators reads like an Irish who's-who . . . It's worth every minute." -- Philadelphia Inquirer

"Aha! So this is what Joyce is supposed to sound like." -- -The Philadelphia Inquirer

"Caedmon has done a brilliant job in matching each story to a reader, resulting in fifteen readings as unique and personal as the stories themselves, each one glowing with individuality, color, and nuance." -- The Brazen Head

"Even better than reading Joyce is having Joyce read to you, and the readers here are superb..." -- -Bookpage

"One of the classiest productions ever released . . . " -- -The New York Post

Customer Reviews

Overrated but good
I've long proclaimed that Dubliners is Joyce's greatest literary achievement. I'd read the book first in the mid-80s, then the early 90s, and just a while back. While I stand by my initial assessment that it's Joyce's best work, with age, and my own forays into fiction, I see that it is not as good as I once thought, although it still has moments of greatness.
The book is fifteen short stories that were mostly written in the years 1904-1905, and were dubbed by Joyce as being `epiphanies'- moments of sudden insight. The key to that term, however, is that the epiphanies are meant to occur within the reader, not to Joyce's characters....It is legend that Dubliners originally consisted of twelve tales, and that Joyce later added Two Gallants, A Little Cloud, and The Dead, after the original dozen were done by 1905. I don't think that sort of knowledge really matters since the three tales are rather uneven in relationship to each other, so give no idea of Joyce's growth nor stagnation, and certainly not a hint of his later fracturing of narrative, which was already being hailed as Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man was already being serialized in The Egoist magazine when the book finally hint print, almost a decade later in 1914. Thus, his greatest work was unfairly overlooked by the critics of the day.
They were generally dismissed as trifles, save for The Dead, although, when the critical tide turned, it turned far too much in the other direction, with virtually every one of the stories being hailed as a masterpiece. They're not, although by contemporary standards the tales are indeed innovative and excellent. The stories vary greatly in approach, but their tone is too similar, that is- consistently dour, which augured the summation of Joyce as the favorite writer that nobody reads.
Also, there is a tendency, in the lesser stories, for Joyce to get stuck in minutiae of the day that means little now, as well as superfluous dialogue designed to add color, yet only adds fat. Another problem is that in order to show the inertia and decline of Irish culture into paralysis, around the turn of the Twentieth Century, Joyce's stories are essentially without much real conflict- thus their lean into `epiphany'. It also makes tales like Ivy Day in the Committee Room, laden with political references as arcane as a John Dryden poem, and little real character development, simply not good. In attempting a slice of Dublin life of the day Joyce sometimes falls prey to the fallacy that to be `real' he has to show characters doing dull things, or simply describe things too matter-of-factly, rather than letting the epiphanies speak for themselves, by brushing away the `ordinary' excess. Dramatically, the stories are rather predictable- what separates them from lesser writers' tales is how the expected is unleashed and described.
In short, while the argument that Joyce was a great writer, but not great novelist, sticks, the idea that he was without anything to say is demonstrably false. It's just that he did not have a whole lot to say, nor did he have anything particularly new to say. But, he said it, at his best, better than most. It is the fact that Joyce attempts more than contemporary short fictionists, and that this collection is not a mere collection, but a narrative movement, or symphony, with a purpose, that makes the book glow all the more brightly in contrast to the dreck that populates today's fiction. What most astonishes me, though, as I grow and age, is how little it takes for a person's reputation as an artist, to be founded on. James Joyce was a great writer, but tales like After The Race, Clay, Ivy Day in the Committee Room, A Mother, and Grace- fully a third of the book, are simply not good stories, for reasons mentioned earlier. Not acknowledging that does no good, and only casts the reader and critic in the role of the sciolist professor I encountered.
It is only by acknowledging failures that the structures that go under a great work of art- its scaffolding- can be considered and applied by others. To not do so is to keep up the curtain that denies that greatness is achievable now, the same sort of lie that Gabriel Conroy's world finally lost in the snow.

INCLUDES "The Dead"
To clarify, the Modern Library edition also contains "The Dead", so if you have it you'll be getting another, and if you don't--don't go finding another.

Irish Stew
Because "Ulysses" is so imposing with its epic length and pages of solid, tiny text I decided to get my feet wet with "Dubliners," which is not quite half the other's length. From what I read with "Dubliners", I'll have to give "Ulysses" a shot in the near future.

Normally I'd do an obligatory plot summary, but that would be a pointless exercise because A) There are 15 short stories that comprise the book and B) None of them really has a traditional "plot" to speak of. Rather, "Dubliners" is a serious of what we in modern parlance would call "character sketches." Think of it as each story being a portrait of some person or scene done in painstakingly vivid detail. Each story focuses on some small moment that often leads the character to discovering a melancholy truth about life.

The first stories focus on children encountering the harsh realities of the adult world--a priest dying and an encounter with a creepy, crazy old man--and then move on to teenage love and then more adult problems of marriage, family, and politics before a final meditation on death in the aptly-titled "The Dead."

The way Joyce captures the humanity of each character is so stunning; he taps into the soul of these people to expose the secrets, wishes, hopes, and fears that reside within each of us. It's hard not to see a part of yourself in one or more of these characters, almost as if Joyce knew you over 90 years ago better than you know yourself right now. Because while the technology may change, the human psyche remains the same.

The reason I can't give this four stars is that like any short story collection there's a fatigue that sets in upon reading "Dubliners." The longer the collection goes on, the more similarities can be seen in the characters and the situations, the descriptions and the dialog. It's like listening to an album of music and noting that song 10 sounds a lot like song 5, which sounds a lot like song 2. There's really no way to avoid that fatigue unless the writer uses a completely different style each time.

As well, reading a book written over 90 years ago that's set in Ireland can be a challenge for a modern (not quite 90) year old American. Footnotes and such can be helpful, but it also interrupts the flow of the reading.

Still, Joyce's uncanny knowledge of humanity is well worth any fatigue or nuisances.

That is all.