2 (121 words)

In response to why Araby is great writing.

I had a difficult time getting through Araby, but not because I couldn't understand the words employed, nor because I wasn't engaged with the prose. While my eyes were eager to carry on working over the text, my brain preferred to pause and render each image he provided in a mental plasma-screen-detail. It was dense, but it was equally economical with it's word choice and despite the snail-like pace at which I took it in, I was entirely engrossed. My childhood on the streets of Dublin felt like an experience I'd fondly recalled thousands of times, both to friends and litters of nonexistent ginger-haired grandchildren. Joyce had a talent for describing anything relatable in the sharpest, and most intimate of fashions.