Читать онлайн «Ulysses: A Facsimile of the First Edition Published in Paris in 1922»

Stephen Hero

(posthumous: Jonathan Cape)

In a letter to Harriet Shaw Weaver, James Joyce wrote of the first edition of Ulysses, СI am extremely irritated by all the printerТs errors. Are these to be perpetuated in future editions? I hope not. Т

JoyceТs hope was not fulfilled until 1986, when a critical edition of the work appeared, the fruit of seven yearsТ textual research by a team of scholars led by Professor Hans Walter Gabler of the Department of English Philology at the University of Munich; they had returned to the original manuscripts, drafts and proofs of the 1922 first edition in order to reconstruct as closely as possible the creative process by which Joyce wrote Ulysses. Corrections to thousands of СaccidentalsТ of punctuation, spelling and emphasis illuminate previously obscure passages and throw the theme of the most significant novel of the twentieth century into sharp relief.

Here is Ulysses as James Joyce wrote and revised it.

This unabridged edition incorporates the internationally recognised system of line numbers for critical reference.

– Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!

Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:

– Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!

Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.

– Back to barracks! he said sternly.

He added in a preacher’s tone:

– For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.

He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.