dead

A tRump Chrismas is More Joyce’s The Dead Than Dicken’s Chrismas Carol

8 thoughts on “A tRump Chrismas is More Joyce’s The Dead Than Dicken’s Chrismas Carol

  1. Just put up a beautifully structured post with links to the original text of the Joyce story and the John Huston movie, and it was DEVOURED by IntenseDebate, which doesn't like me to edit these things. Grrrr….

    Anyway, the movie is great and only $1.99 to stream from Amazon. Huston's last film, directed from a hospital bed on the set.

    1. I saw the movie some years ago. Having read the story, I could tell which of the dialogue was Joyce and which had been added. and considered that it might have been a better as a one hour TV production.

      As an aside, I recently went to Dublin and saw the house at which one of Joyce's aunts had lived, and was supposedly used as the basis for the house i the story. It was empty and up for sale.Something should be done to preserve it.

  2. Bannon is obviously Freddie Malins. Trump couldn't be Gabriel because Gabriel was afraid of being too erudite in his speech, but the prospect of Gretta (Melania) telling Gabriel (Trump) that he will never be anything but second-best when compared to an earlier, now-dead, boyfriend would be a fitting end to the story.

    1. "I suppose you were in love with this Michael Furey, Gretta," he said.

      "I was great with him at that time," she said.

      Her voice was veiled and sad. Gabriel, feeling now how vain it would be to try to lead her whither he had purposed, caressed one of her hands and said, also sadly:

      "And what did he die of so young, Gretta? Consumption, was it?"

      "I think he died for me," she answered.

      A vague terror seized Gabriel at this answer, as if, at that hour when he had hoped to triumph, some impalpable and vindictive being was coming against him, gathering forces against him in its vague world. But he shook himself free of it with an effort of reason and continued to caress her hand. He did not question her again, for he felt that she would tell him of herself. Her hand was warm and moist: it did not respond to his touch, but he continued to caress it just as he had caressed her first letter to him that spring morning.

  3. How was I to know he was with the Russians, too?
    Edit: I just tested it out at the mothership, and logged in without any trouble at all. Maybe the email was from the Russians? I hate this new unreal reality.

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