Can't see much justification for this meticulous and wordy biography of James Joyce. Perhaps a decade or more from now his place in literature will be established, the permanent value of his contribution possible of appraisal. But today, particularly with the disappointment in Finnegan's Wake fresh in many minds, a ponderous volume dealing with his inheritance, youth, and lifelong struggle for recognition seems uncalled for. The changing status of censorship ties this in with the Ernst book (page 400).