I’m 36% of my way through James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake. It’s as mad as I was hoping for and I can’t wait until the end to share some of my favourite lines (so far…)

“Luckily there is another cant to the questy. Has any fellow, of the dime a dozen type, it might with some profit, some dull evening quietly be hinted – has any usual sort of ornery josser, flat-chested fortyish, faintly flatulent and given to ratiocination by syncopation in the elucidation of complications, of his greatest Fung Yang dynasdescendanced, only another the son of, in fact, ever looked sufficiently longly at a quite everydaylooking stamped addressed envelope?”

“Does your mutter know your mike?”

“Incredible! Well, hear the inevitable.”

“How is that for low, laities and gentlenuns?”

“But what was the game in her mixed baggyrhatty? Just the tembo in her tumbo or pilipili from her pepperpot? Saas and taas and specis bizaas.”

“All she meaned was golten sylvup, all she meaned was some Knight’s ploung jamn. It’s driving her dafft like he’s so dumnb.”

I’m looking forward to the remaining 64%…