On Nassau Street in Dublin, on June 10, , twenty-two-year-old James Joyce saw as clearly as he could see, since he was not wearing his glasses, and his vision was poor the twenty-year-old Nora Barnacle, then a young chambermaid, sauntering by. Nora would later tell the story of their first meeting often, though she often told it differently.
Joyce proposed a date, and Barnacle agreed, but though Joyce went to the appointed place at the appointed time, she never showed. I looked for a long time at a head of reddish-brown hair and decided it was not yours. I went home quite dejected. I would like to make an appointment but it might not suit you. I hope you will be kind enough to make one with meβif you have not forgotten me!
Joyce took Barnacle east, past the docks and the harbor, to the deserted area of Dublin known as Ringswald. Although the couple did not officially marry until , their unconventional relationship was passionate till the end. The letters below were written when Joyce returned to Dublin alone for the first time, in , in an attempt to get Dubliners published.
They are delightfully, shockingly dirty. Read in full, they are also quite charming. This correspondence was first published in in the Selected Letters of James Joyce , now out of print. T hese letters, or excerpts of them, have been floating around the Internet for some time now, but they merit multiple joyous re-readings. Happy birthday, James Joyce. May we all find a soul mate whose farts we would know anywhere.
There is some star too near the earth for I am still in a fever-fit of animal desire. Today I stopped short often in the street with an exclamation whenever I thought of the letters I wrote you last night and the night before. They must read awful in the cold light of day. Perhaps their coarseness has disgusted you.
