And turn it into a graphic novel. I've actually been meaning to do this for some time.
Now whilst I can do my own art (see here) I am a little bit lazy.
Also, it would take a lifetime with this particular book.
So I'm going to plug the words of Joyce into the AI intelligence of Midjourney, and see what comes out. Hopefully nobody will get hurt.
I will write a proper review at some point, too, but for now, you get the rushed introduction.
It's complete nonsensical stream of consciousness gibber jabber that sounds like it's telling a story.
About a wake (funeral party) for a guy named Finnegan. That's pretty much all you get.
Think... Tolkien... meets... Salman Rushdie... on Acid.
Ok, here we go:
Finnegan's Wake - Episode 1: Part 1
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius
vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
Ahh ok, no penises, good to know. Take that word out.
Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, fr'over the short sea, had passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his war
Cool, it's looking a bit game-of-thrones-ey. Next..
nor had topsawyer's rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County's gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time
Well that de-escalated quickly. Next..
nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac
Oh wow, this is getting dark. Variation on frame 4 please:
And big up frame 2:
Nice! Next..
not yet, though all's fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
Oh my it's gone a bit forward in time.
More variety on frame 4:
And big up frame 4:
Ok wow.
That's all I have for now. But look how much we've covered:
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, fr'over the short sea, had passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer's rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County's gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not yet, though all's fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
One single paragraph!
And this is what the rest of page 1 looks like:
The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntooho ohoordenenthurnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since devlinsfirst loved livvy. What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishygods! Br‚kkek K‚kkek K‚kkek K‚kkek! K¢ax K¢ax K¢ax! Ualu Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons catapelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod's brood, be me fear! Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykillkilly: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetabsolvers! What true feeling for their's hayair with what strawng voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen's maurer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofarback for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely struxk his tete in a tub for to watsch the future of his fates but ere he swiftly stook it out again, by the might of moses, the very water was eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus so that ought to show you what a pentschanjeuchy chap he was!) and during mighty odd years this man of hod, cement and edifices in Toper's Thorp piled buildung supra buildung pon the banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part inher. Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multiplicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor wheretwin 'twas born, his roundhead staple of other days to rise in undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitectitiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o'toolers clittering up and tombles a'buckets clottering down. Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant, argent, a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you're going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you're vine! Send
And there are just under 300 pages.
This is gonna take a while.
Also, I don't think that midjourney is really getting the gist of the words.
If I were to translate into simpler english...
Aha! I'll see if I can get chatGPT to translate for me:
ChatGPT, can you translate the first paragraph from 'finnegans wake' into simpler english:
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, fr'over the short sea, had passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer's rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County's gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not yet, though all's fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
Translation:
The river runs past Eve and Adam's, from the curve of the shore to the bend of the bay, bringing us back to Howth Castle and its surroundings through a convenient cycle of recirculation. Sir Tristram, who loves music, has come back over the short sea from North Armorica on this side of the narrow strip of land in Europe Minor to fight his own battle. The topsawyer's rocks near the Oconee river did not make themselves bigger to impress the people of Laurens County, even though they kept puffing themselves up all the time. A voice from a fire did not yell "Mishe mishe" to Tauftauf Thuartpeatrick yet, but soon after, a young man helped an old man named Isaac. But, not yet, even though everything is fair in love and war, were Sosie Sesthers angry with Nathandjoe. A bag of malt from Jhem or Shen had been brewed by moonlight and the end of Rory's eyebrow could be seen, looking good, on the surface of the water.
Ok, so.. Joyce - ChatGPT - Midjourney.
This should be fun...
Ok, so.. Joyce - ChatGPT - Midjourney.
This should be fun...