Re-Joyce: Bloomsday in Dublin Draws Literature Lovers

June 23, 2026

Authored by:

John DiConsiglio

It may be the greatest novel in literary history. Or it may be utterly incomprehensible. Vladimir Nabokov called it "a divine work of art." Virginia Woolf dismissed it as "nauseating," and no less an expert on scandalous tracts than D. H. Lawrence declared it "the dirtiest, most indecent, obscene thing ever written." It regularly tops critics' picks as the most important book of the 20th century-as well as Goodreads users' lists of the most difficult novels of all time.

But you won't convince the throngs of literature lovers on the streets of Dublin that "Ulysses"-Irish maestro James Joyce's brilliant, baffling, masterful, mystifying 1922 classic-is anything short of a national treasure. On one day-June 16, the day the novel takes place-the words and characters of Joyce's kaleidoscopic universe come alive in a worldwide festival known as Bloomsday, named for the novel's hero.

This Bloomsday, thousands of revelers-including the author of this article-filled the squares and streets of central Dublin. They retraced the steps of the novel's characters, dressed up in Edwardian clothing, recited passages of Joyce's prose and feasted on dishes and drinks from the book's pages.

"I can't think of any other writer who has a designated day where so many people come together with such excitement," said Margaret Soltan, an emerita professor of English who taught "Ulysses" during her 30 years at George Washington University. "When you experience the thrill of encountering the best prose you're ever going to read in your life, you want to share it."

Outside Davy Byrne's pub, a 130-year-old tavern featured in "Ulysses," Bloomsday crowds in period dress listened to readings from the novel.

Bloomsday buffs from around the world flocked to Dublin to re-Joyce with their fellow literary pilgrims. Mekah Anand flew from India to celebrate in Joyce's hometown. "Literature is a wonderful reason to travel," she said. Heather and Arizona, graduate students from Montreal who declined to give their last names, joined the pageantry in period garb-Heather as Joyce in a tie and dark glasses, Arizona as his wife, Nora Barnacle, in a ruffled blouse and feathered hat. "Being here feels like I'm stepping into the book," Heather said.

And a Joycean diehard from Switzerland named Kiki quit her job in Zurich rather than skip a Bloomsday in Dublin. "The book has meant so much to my life," she said. "I wasn't going to miss this."

The "Ulysses" effect

Why "Ulysses"?

What is it about a century-old, 800-page novel, which many readers abandon and some scholars spend a lifetime decoding that inspires such exuberant devotion?

"Nothing like it exists in the world and probably never will again," said Samuel Ashworth, an adjunct professor in the Department of English at the Columbian College of Arts and Sciences who teaches Irish literature and has led students on a short-term study abroad trip to Ireland.

In its simplest terms, "Ulysses" is a loose retelling of Homer's "Odyssey"-compressing Odysseus' decade-long journey into a single day in Dublin. It recasts the mythical Greek warrior as an average man, middle-aged ad agent Leopold Bloom. While Odysseus conquered a cyclops and battled man-eating giants, Bloom buys soap, eats a cheese sandwich and stops at local haunts from taverns and libraries to brothels, graveyards and hospitals.

Not much happens-which, Soltan said, is the point. Elevating the everyday into the epic, Bloom "is a hero simply because he makes it through the slings and arrows of the day," she explained. "Joyce captures the pathos of being a human being, the weakness and fragility of humanity."

Students from Trinity College urged passing cars outside Sweny's Pharmacy to show their Bloomsday spirit.

The true hero of "Ulysses," Soltan said, is Joyce's exhilarating-and exasperating-language. Much of the book features stream-of-consciousness internal monologues that capture the rambling thoughts in characters' heads. Some episodes are written in newspaper headlines, a play with stage directions and a Q&A. Its most famous chapter-a nearly 100-page soliloquy by Bloom's unfaithful wife, Molly-is virtually punctuation-free and reads like one extended breath.

"It doesn't seem possible that a human being could write so well," Soltan said. "To quote Bloom, 'Your head it simply swirls.'"

But the dizzying prose-which Joyce predicted would "keep the professors busy for centuries"-has also frustrated generations of readers. Joyce's own wife gave up after just 27 pages-including the title page. Ashworth tells his students to keep a guide handy rather than puzzle their way through the challenging text. "I don't want them to miss anything," he said, recalling how he's grown emotional while reading sections to his class. "I don't know another book with the capacity to produce such joy."

On the streets of Dublin

Outside Davy Byrne's pub, a 130-year-old tavern on Dublin's Duke Street, Bloomsday crowds with straw hats and parasols cheered readings and music. Two American travelers-Jillian from New York and Madison from Massachusetts-booked their Bloomsday holiday after a year-long book club read. Dressed in homemade costumes, Madison delighted the Davy Byrne audience by reciting a section where Bloom stops at the same pub for a gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of burgundy-a dish that's still on the menu.

Bloomsday pilgrims Jillian (left) and Madison traveled from America to Ireland to be part of the June 16 festivities.

"I didn't think I'd get up in that exact spot and read to Irish people who knew all the words. It was exciting-and a little terrifying!" Madison laughed.

"Ulysses" was an immediate modernist phenomenon. Joyce appeared on the cover of "Time" magazine and readers from Ernest Hemingway to Winston Churchill clamored for copies. But it was also widely banned for its sexually explicit passages. In the U.S., copies were confiscated and burned into the 1930s. And it was largely unavailable in Joyce's home country until the 1960s.

Today, Bloomsday in Dublin has become a tourist attraction alongside the Guinness factory and the Book of Kells. More than 130 events were planned for Bloomsday 2026 from film festivals to walking tours to a garden party at the Museum of Literature Ireland-MoLI-which houses the very first 1922 copy of "Ulysses."

The origins of Bloomsday are hard to trace. Joyce makes reference to a "Bloom's day" in a 1924 letter, but the modern Bloomsday seems to have taken off in 1982, the centenary of Joyce's birth.

Dublin actor P.J. Murphy has shared traditional Irish songs with Bloomsday revelers for decades-including singers Lana Del Rey and Olivia Rodrigo.

A global cultural event, Bloomsday is now celebrated at festivals from Boston to Bogotá and Italy to Islamabad-including an annual speed-read at D.C.'s Politics and Prose bookstore. That's where both Soltan and Ashworth celebrated this year by reciting portions of Molly's monologue. "The best part, as always, was the sight of a packed room of Joyce lovers," Soltan said.

But Dublin remains the beating heart of Bloomsday. Joyce left Ireland in 1904 and rarely returned, moving between Trieste, Rome, Paris and Zurich, where he died in 1941 at 58. Still, his recall of each Dublin house and street corner is so vivid that, as he said, "if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the Earth it could be reconstructed out of my book."

Along the sidewalk outside Sweny's Pharmacy, where Bloom buys a bar of lemon soap for Molly, young sign-wavers from nearby Trinity College urged the Lincoln Place traffic to "Honk for Bloomsday." Inside, the shop's proprietor P.J. Murphy, a Dublin actor, strummed a traditional Gaelic song on his guitar, spinning stories of the time he serenaded pop-star Lana Del Rey when she stopped in. He points out local attractions to shoppers like the best Irish coffee in Dublin-Kennedy's, where Oscar Wilde stacked dishes at 14.

Later that evening, Murphy planned to perform in a theatrical version of "Ulysses" as he's done on Bloomsdays for decades. Each year, he said, the crowds get bigger and the cheers get louder.

"People come for the city, and they come for the party," he said. "I think they come for the words. That's where the magic lives."