Review in Literary World 1917
That kind of sarcasm starts up in his mind about everything, like a whisper of Satan, and it destroys all his values. He has not enough egotism to have any values, and when the book ends suddenly he is setting out to find some. But for all that he is not futile, because of the drifting passion and the flushing and fading beauty of his mind. Mr. Joyce gives us that, and therefore gives us something that is worth having. It is wild youth, as wild as Hamlet's, and full of wild music.