Robert Martin Adams
THE BENT KNIFE BLADE :
JOYCE IN THE 1960'S
The cnbc who undertakes to re-examine and revaluate
James Joyce in the light of the modern tradition obviously implies
that he has a pretty precise sense of that tradition, of what the
:(eitgeist
is and where it's headed; my first step will have to be a
vigorous disclaimer on that score. Professors of literature don't direct
the
:(eitgeist
and have no special claim to an insider's understanding
of it-or if some do, I'm not one of them. Yet it is scarcely possible
for even a backward academic to avoid recognizing that Joyce in the
sixties is not by any means the same force he was in the twenties.
His books have changed, for one thing, by standing still in the stream
of time; they have changed in the mere process of becoming classics,
and so a part of the recognized cultural atmosphere; they have
changed as a result of changes in our cultural and intellectual weather.
All this quite apart from the more or less conscious changes brought
about by exegetes and commentators. Defining a few of these gradual
changes, which have crept over Joyce and us, may accentuate new
aspects of his relevance, and irrelevance.
At least in America, we are no longer obliged to defend Joyce's
morals. There is something of a relief in this development, for moral
controversy about a work of art usually resolves itself into repetition
and denial of the axiom that the artist can treat any subject he
wants; and Joyce's subject is not exactly the most edifying thing
about him. Bloom on his jakes, Stephen in the whorehouse, and
Molly Bloom in bed-these are elements which we find it a good
deal easier to digest than the genteel tradition possibly could. We have
digested them, without
ill
effects of any obvious sort; and so, rather
