Word: nora
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...realism is locked in battle with the stylized portions of the set, the vaudeville walk of Schlesinger, and the youthful voice and bearing of Hurd. It is this conflict--between the play and the production--which dominates the act and totally obscures its content. Because of it, Jack and Nora Clitheroe can make no impression as characters, and much of the later action, particularly in the last act, means nothing because the Clitheroes mean nothing...
...life. It is the story of one of the most desolate boyhoods in all fiction. The key incident comes at the end of Ferdinand's stay at an English school to which his parents had sent him. He brutally seduces the only person who had shown him affection-Nora, the headmaster's wife-and records her suicide by drowning in the Medway. During the whole time at this school, Ferdinand refuses to utter a single word but raves to himself ferociously: "Speak? Speak? About what? . . . Christ! and all their stinking rottenness, and my buddies and the fags...
...some detail in the Bloom-Gerty McDowell episode in Ulysses. The few letters from Joyce's rakehell father have all the style and fresh idiom of Simon Dedalus in the book. And Molly Bloom's long, affirmative soliloquy comes to life in the letters of his wife, Nora-artless, rambling and totally innocent of punctuation, syntax or correct spelling...
...From Nora, Joyce demanded continual proofs of love. The major one, right at the outset, was that she leave Ireland with him as his mistress in 1904. They were finally married in 1931, but only to make sure that Joyce's family could legally claim his estate. Nora gave in full measure the affection and companionship that Joyce so desperately needed, but she could make nothing of his work. The first copy of Ulysses was given Nora, but she never got around to reading the book...
Joyce was racked by jealousy. He wrote Nora: "At the time when I used to meet you at the corner of Merrion Square and walk with you and feel your hand touch me in the dark and hear your voice (O Nora! I will never hear that music again because I can never believe again) at the time I used to meet you, every second night you kept an appointment with a friend of mine outside the Museum, you went with him along the same streets, down by the canal . . . down to the bank of the Dodder. You stood with...