Bernardo Soares repeatedly reminds his ideal reader that consciousness deceives us, by solipsistically taking itself to be the measure of reality. His Book of Disquiet often meditates on the nature and limits of consciousness, and on its relationship to the unconscious. Unlike either of these writers, Pessoa was not interested in representing human consciousness in literature he wanted to analyze and, if possible, expand it. Dalloway (1925) and To the Lighthouse (1927), her most stunning novel.
Woolf, who had a few other snide things to say about Ulysses, may have been rattled because Joyce had so brilliantly realized her own ambition, soon enough revealed in performances such as Mrs. It is, in short, perhaps the most faithful X-ray ever taken of the ordinary human consciousness.” Joyce manages to give the effect of unedited human minds, drifting aimlessly along from one triviality to another, confused and diverted by memory, by sensation and by inhibition.
Pessoa’s less than enthusiastic reaction to the book recalls Virginia Woolf’s comment in a diary entry written shortly after the complete novel was first published in Paris, in 1922: “When one can have cooked flesh, why have it raw?” It might also remind us of Edmund Wilson’s much more positive reaction in the book review he wrote for The New Republic: “Mr. It is oneiric delirium-the kind treated by psychiatrists-presented as an end in itself. Even the sensuality of Ulysses is a symptom of intermediation. The art of James Joyce, like that of Mallarmé, is art preoccupied with method, with how it is made.
The only evidence that Pessoa actually read Ulysses, or enough of it to know that he wanted to read no more, is the laconic commentary he scribbled, in Portuguese, on a scrap of paper: Both volumes have come down to us in pristine condition, without so much as a fleeting pencil mark. The copy he saw-and purchased-was of the two-volume Odyssey Edition, published in December 1932, in Germany. The scandal generated by its partial publication in The Little Review, between 19, may not have reached Pessoa’s attention, but by 1933 he knew all about its celebrity status as a banned book, judged obscene and still unavailable in the United Kingdom and the United States. One afternoon while browsing in the English bookstore, located midway between two of the offices where he worked for a few hours nearly every day, Fernando Pessoa spotted a copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses.
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