Reading Ulysses is like ascending Everest. Establish a base camp at the beach, watch for the fireworks. Leave your fellow climbers for dead at the bar during the parade, and try to find that treacherous passage to the next level. The winds and weather are bad at times, particularly in the brothel, but veterans say that if you can make it to the soliloquy, you are home free. 
 I teared up at the ending, in part from the beauty of the passage, in part from relief and shock at the pure achievement.