It's one hell of a novel, to be sure. I was lucky enough to get in on a class that studied it, ad nauseum, and without it, I'm not sure I'd have had the stamina. As it is, I still love it, and have it close at hand to gaze upon as a testament that I'm not really a shallow reader. 
 Seriously though, how many pages were devoted to his thoughts while on the crapper? Seriously? 
 I still can't truly recognize the step-by-step shadowing of Homer's classic. It strains my mind and my eyesight, no matter how many times I was told that it was there. Should I read it again? Very possibly. Then again, maybe I'm just afraid that I'll go as crazy as Joyce did, by osmosis. 
 It's been so many years since reading it, and yet it still has a big impression in my brain. That's saying an awful lot.