No, we refer not to our own prose, but that of a certain James Joyce
(the original JJ), whose writing has been referred to as such. Our
roving reporter reports that he has followed through with his threat
to purchase Ulysses, despite being forwarned that it was unreadable
(he took this as a challenge). Critics have deemed said tome as
'literary Bolshevism', while Joyce himself first referred to it as a
novel, then 'epic','encyclopedia', maledettisimo romanzaccione
(roughly, , damnedest monstrously big novel'), finally settling simply
for 'book'.
The novel takes place over the span of a single day in Dublin, circa
1904. When 'our man' realized (when drinking Guinness) that this day
coincided with his birthday, his mission/fate was sealed.
He did not realize at the time, however, that it would be 980 pages.
