Still slogging my way through this important novel. I'm beginning to pick up bits and pieces of the novel's themes, but it's a stretch for me to read this densely packed description of everyday Dublin. The character Leopold Bloom has so many mundane thoughts, mixed in with some absurd thoughts, that it's hard to discern exactly what the novel's trying to say. As I told my friend last night, though, that may be part of the novel's point -- that we are all part of this mundane world, and it really is a part of the human condition to be wrapped up in ourselves. I'm not very far in to the novel, but we'll see where it goes from here.
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