A genius in words. A failure in deeds (National Post, June 16)

Today marks the 100th anniversary of "Bloomsday." On June 16, 1904, James Joyce's unlikely hero, Leopold Bloom, made his way through the streets of Dublin in the novel Ulysses, and changed the face of literature forever. The occasion will be celebrated by Joyceans all over the world. Much ink has already been spilled and much drink will be swilled in honour of the occasion. But the toasts will honour the artist, not the man. For like so many geniuses, Joyce was a failure as a human being.

Joyce is widely considered the greatest writer of the 20th century. Although recognition of his true genius came late in life, he never wobbled in his own high estimation of his worth from the moment he took pen in hand. His great subject was Dublin and its inhabitants, but in order to do them justice, he knew he had to leave Ireland. He met and fell in love with an uneducated but sexually confident hotel maid, Nora Barnacle, and he convinced her to follow him into European exile.

Because they are so caught up in their own destinies, geniuses are generally disagreeable people. But there was no such excuse for Nora. The two of them set an uncommonly high standard for fecklessness (even amongst Irish writers in general, whose dual themes are inevitably too little money and too much drink), narcissism, a sense of entitlement and disregard for others.

Their odyssey began in Trieste and continued throughout much of Europe. They had a son and a daughter, but the children always came second to Joyce's writing, Nora's love of partying, and their parents' intense erotic involvement with each other. Joyce had been totally inexperienced sexually when Nora took him in hand (literally, down at a deserted pier), and she exercised a muse's power over him throughout their lifetime. Nora was bright but mentally lazy. She never bothered to read Joyce's work. But she was unquestionably the model for the sexually hungry and candid Molly Bloom in Ulysses. When away from each other, Joyce and Nora exchanged letters of such prurience (verging on coprophilia), that I am sorry I read them, since there are certain images one really does not want implanted in the imagination.

They were terrible with money, and it was almost always someone's else's they were throwing away, either Joyce's brother's, or friends or patrons. Joyce's father had been a drunken wastrel, shamelessly whining for handouts from his children, and Joyce exhibited the same tendencies.

The children were often plucked from school without warning when the Joyces had to flee unpaid landlords or when the spirit moved them. Joyce and Nora inexplicably spoke Italian between themselves. The children spoke a broken English together. They were made to learn new languages with each new school and in the end suffered terribly from linguistic anomie. They hadn't a hope of being normal adults.

The daughter had serious mental problems. She exhibited nymphomanic tendencies as a young woman so disturbing that she was eventually hospitalized. There is some question about Joyce's relationship with her as a child. (They often shared a bed.) Joyce agonized over her difficulties, but was in the end not of much practical use, and Nora to all appearances was indifferent. Once the girl was shut away in a clinic, Nora never visited her or saw her again.

The son made stabs at various occupations but he wasn't suited to much, thanks to his parents' neglect. He married an American heiress, egged on by Joyce and Nora who believed that the girl's family would shower them with money once the union was official (that did not happen). The marriage was a disaster, and the son became depressed and alcoholic. He was eventually taken in hand by an older woman.

Geniuses -- they are all very well on the page, but they're pretty awful in real life. It is astonishing how much friends and admirers will put up with in the name of art. I stay far away from geniuses in the flesh. The books they write are enough. More than.

© National Post 2004