Fall 1962 • Vol. XXIV No. 4 NonfictionOctober 1, 1962 |

The Hours of James Joyce, Part I

Translated by Lloyd C. Parks Preface I knew Joyce only in the concluding years of his life, at the time he was completing his last work, Finnegans Wake. The portrait the reader will find in these pages is of that Joyce. I have arranged nothing, composed nothing, added nothing, taken nothing away from the writer's moments or hours, on vacation and at work. The words I have put in his mouth are those he spoke. The reader will not be surprised to learn that I jotted them down at the time. Moreover, as I mention later, Joyce's company forced me to train my memory: he expected people to recall things precisely, and in detail. It was enough to make a choice among details: certain recollections should not be allowed beyond the intimacy of the memory; others, depending on the hours and on the meetings, concern only the man and no the author. Though touchy, sus-picious at first, Joyce revealed himself in the confidence of friendship just as he did in his work, with the same si

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