On the first day of August 1906 Mr Joyce took up his position as a correspondence clerk in the Nastkilb & Schumacher Bank in Rome. I was just thinking that if he had enjoyed his new position he may have altered career and he might never have written Ulysses and I, Leopold Bloom, would never have existed! But, thankfully, that didn’t happen. He grew quickly to detest his job and returned to Trieste after just a few months. Mr Joyce once said, “Rome reminds me of a man who lives by exhibiting to travelers his grandmother’s corpse”. A little bit unfair I think; must have been his state of mind. I’d love to bring Molly on a visit to Rome. Some day, maybe. LB
Posted on August 1, 2017