crying over james joyce

I am not yet ready for my report but I have to pretend that I am. Isn’t it good? I have read the book, I have made the skeleton of my report but I still don’t have the substance. Whew... Not for the last time that I have regretted taking James Joyce’s “A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man” as report for my Anglo-American Literature. Now I’m regretting it once more. Had I been more mature in choosing a book that is suited for my level of understanding, I wouldn’t be this problematic.

The only reason I chose the book is I had read it before in my undergraduate English Literature class. I had thought it was a crazy book then. Considering the fact that I used to finish it within two days, my first “analysis” of the book was as hurried as a book report of a typical high school student. Little did I know that what I had taken for granted as a simple book is actually the third greatest book in world literature according to the Time’s Magazine.

It makes me crazy right now. I can’t even start it with a proper introduction, a bibliography, or even a summary. Good Lord. Am I hopeless? Helpless? Or plain stupid? If I could, I would really eat up my words and just change my book to another, an easier one. But I can only choke. And Still, no word comes out of my already exhausted brain.

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