Triggered no doubt by no 746, I read these for probably the 3rd time in my life and enjoyed them more than previously. But enjoyed may not be quite the right word, they are hard work, a bit like walking round an art gallery, the stories are sketches (of Dubliners, obviously) at the turn of the 19th/20th century.
Apart from the last, The Dead, they are short and have minimal plot. Even that one simply revolves around a big new year’s party, but the plot/theme (and perhaps theme of the book), only appears in the last 10 pages or so.
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