“When Ulysses was nearing completion, in 1920 or thereabout, Pound sent several chapters from it to the Little Review in New York, of which he was the London correspondent, and they were printed therein. It is unlikely that I’d have printed them if he had sent them to me, for Ulysses seemed to me to be deliberately mystifying and mainly peurile, and I have never been able to get over a suspicion that Joyce concocted it as a kind of vengeful hoax. Writing excellent stuff in conventional patterns, he had got very little attention and was so hard up that he had to go on teaching languages to keep alive, but from the moment he took to the literary bizarreries of Greenwich Village and began to push them further than Greenwich Village (or even the Left Bank) had ever dared, he was a made man. All the addicts to the Schw
