ABSTRACT
Meanwhile the author, presumably foreseeing the breakdown of even the most faithful Joycean as likely to occur in the neighbourhood of the hundredth page, comes to the rescue in the name of Anna Livia, invoked by a parody of a well-known prayer (‘Annah the Allmaziful, the everliving, Bringer of Plurabilities, haloed be her eve, her singtime sung, her rill be run, unhemmed as it is uneven’), with a chapter on the allied arts of writing and reading, here and there exceptionally, and most mercifully, explicit, preluded by a list of the hundred and sixty-three names given to Annah’s ‘untitled mamafesta memorializing the Mosthighest’ (including Rockabill Booby in the Wave Trough, What Jumbo made to Jalice and What Anisette to Him, and I am Older nor the Rogues among Whist I slips and He calls me his Dual of Ayessha), and one day perhaps to be translated, annotated, and issued as a Critique of Pure Literature and an Introduction to the Study of James Joyce.
