On the basis of reading this novel three more times over the past two weeks as I ran out of books at home; and after scribbling notes and systems of metaphors out on what is now a thick pile of loose sheets-now illegible-and after much caffeine abuse: I can safely say that this is the greatest novel I have ever read.
I am also feeling grateful that it's soon approaching the hundredth anniversary of this work. Much like Keats in the wake of Shakespeare and Milton, I hope that some imaginative force will be restored to mankind to attempt to surpass this milestone in literary history.
I could say more, although with the Joyce industry in academia I fear it would amount to nothing more than reiteration. If you don't enjoy it the first time through-as a friend of mine vehemently expressed-then you better read more, come back to it and you'll probably find you enjoy it-as that same friend has admitted more than a year later.