chapter  148
Edmund Wilson on Joyce as a Poet 1925
Pages 3

unexpurgated Maupassant which is, in some mysterious way, going to corrupt the well known purity of Irish life, of which we had, until lately, heard little since Synge defied the mob with his Playboy. M. Larbaud had better go to Ireland, to 'Young Ireland,' once more, and stay longer than two weeks. . . .