Reading Joyce is like listening to Prisencolinensinainciusol. It seems like you should be understanding and comprehending it. All the bits are there. You kno

Reading Joyce is like listening to Prisencolinensinainciusol. It seems like you should be understanding and comprehending it. All the bits are there. You know what the words/syllables respectively are, but you just can't quite seem to grok any meaning out of it.