Pg. 175 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:
     On which Markson placed an x and a check in the margins next to the following Joyce anecdote re: something he said to Al Laney (whose name Markson has also underlined):     “An acquaintance of Joyce in Paris during the early twenties has recalled to the author of the present study an unpublished anecdote, in which Joyce used a similar figure to describe his view of religion. Men, he said to Al Laney, then a correspondent for the Paris Herald, are like deep-sea fish, swimming in water that is mysteriously irradiated with light from above the surface but unable to rise to the surface to see—a characteristic figure in its grotesquerie and its relevance to Joyce’s own limited sight.”
—
     Swimming in water that is mysteriously irradiated with light from above the surface…
     “A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles, and is there one who understands me?”     From Joyce’s Finnegans Wake.     From Markson’s The Last Novel. (Pg. 187)
     Unable to rise to the surface to see…
     “Joyce had twenty-five operations on his eyes.”     According to Markson on pg. 67 of Reader’s Block.
     Its relevance to Joyce’s own limited sight…

     Pg. 175 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:

     On which Markson placed an x and a check in the margins next to the following Joyce anecdote re: something he said to Al Laney (whose name Markson has also underlined):
     “An acquaintance of Joyce in Paris during the early twenties has recalled to the author of the present study an unpublished anecdote, in which Joyce used a similar figure to describe his view of religion. Men, he said to Al Laney, then a correspondent for the Paris Herald, are like deep-sea fish, swimming in water that is mysteriously irradiated with light from above the surface but unable to rise to the surface to see—a characteristic figure in its grotesquerie and its relevance to Joyce’s own limited sight.”

     Swimming in water that is mysteriously irradiated with light from above the surface…

     “A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles, and is there one who understands me?”
     From Joyce’s Finnegans Wake.
     From Markson’s The Last Novel. (Pg. 187)

     Unable to rise to the surface to see…

     “Joyce had twenty-five operations on his eyes.”
     According to Markson on pg. 67 of Reader’s Block.

     Its relevance to Joyce’s own limited sight…

     The first page of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:
     On which Markson placed his name as an inscription.
—
     This is just one of many texts on Joyce and Ulysses that I own of Markson’s.
     “I have a shelf and a half of Joyce scholarship.”     Explained Markson in an interview with Alexander Laurence.
     There is a whole Joyce industry these days, countless books of scholarship.
     But this would surprise some of Joyce’s contemporaries perhaps.
     For example:     “There are no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of any importance.     Said Edmund Gosse, two years after the publication of Ulysses.”     - David Markson, Vanishing Point, pg. 55.
     Nowadays, there would seem to be no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of no importance…
     Well, perhaps besides a few dolts here and there…
     For example, Dale Peck has written:     “I will say it once and for all, straight out: it all went wrong with James Joyce.”     He goes on to condemn Ulysses for its:     “Diarrheic flow of words.”
     “Anyone who  would employ the word diarrheic to  describe a book as exactingly crafted in every line as Ulysses has either never read eleven consecutive words or possesses  the literary perception of a rutabaga.      Ulysses.  Diarrheic, unquote. Dale Peck.”      - David Markson, The Last Novel, pg. 168.
     As Markson says of Ulysses:     “It’s a great book. Joyce does everything. I love the complexities.”     (From that same  Alexander Laurence interview.)

     The first page of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:

     On which Markson placed his name as an inscription.

     This is just one of many texts on Joyce and Ulysses that I own of Markson’s.

     “I have a shelf and a half of Joyce scholarship.”
     Explained Markson in an interview with Alexander Laurence.

     There is a whole Joyce industry these days, countless books of scholarship.

     But this would surprise some of Joyce’s contemporaries perhaps.

     For example:
     “There are no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of any importance.
     Said Edmund Gosse, two years after the publication of Ulysses.”
     - David Markson, Vanishing Point, pg. 55.

     Nowadays, there would seem to be no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of no importance…

     Well, perhaps besides a few dolts here and there…

     For example, Dale Peck has written:
     “I will say it once and for all, straight out: it all went wrong with James Joyce.”
     He goes on to condemn Ulysses for its:
     “Diarrheic flow of words.”

     “Anyone who would employ the word diarrheic to describe a book as exactingly crafted in every line as Ulysses has either never read eleven consecutive words or possesses the literary perception of a rutabaga.
     Ulysses. Diarrheic
, unquote. Dale Peck.”
     - David Markson, The Last Novel, pg. 168.

     As Markson says of Ulysses:
     “It’s a great book. Joyce does everything. I love the complexities.”
     (From that same Alexander Laurence interview.)

     The inside front cover of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:
     On which Markson placed a one cent Margaret Mitchell stamp.
—-
     “Old enough to have started coming upon likenesses on postage stamps of other writers he had known personally or had at least met in passing.”     Is a line from pg. 79 of Markson’s The Last Novel.
     Was Margaret Mitchell one such writer whom he had “at least met in passing”?
     Highly unlikely.
     She died in 1949. He was born in 1927. So it would have had to happen by the time he was 22, ten years before he published his own first novel.
     I wonder which authors he was speaking of when he wrote that line:     “Old enough to have started coming upon likenesses on postage stamps of  other writers he had known personally or had at least met in passing.”
     Does Malcolm Lowry have a stamp? Or Jack Kerouac? Or William Gaddis? Or Dylan Thomas? Or Conrad Aiken? We can be certain he met them.     Barthelme? Vonnegut?
     Is he counting authors whom he “had but a glimpse of”?
     “Writer had but a glimpse of Faulkner.     As it happens, of Hemingway también.”     Markson announced on pg. 161 of This Is Not A Novel.     And then went on to describe:     “Faulkner,  at a funeral. Small and beady-eyed.     Hemingway at ringside.”
     Realizing we will probably never know exactly whose likeness on a stamp triggered the inclusion of that line in The Last Novel.
     If such an event even occurred.     Which itself can be assumed, but most likely never known for certain.

     The inside front cover of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:

     On which Markson placed a one cent Margaret Mitchell stamp.

—-

     “Old enough to have started coming upon likenesses on postage stamps of other writers he had known personally or had at least met in passing.”
     Is a line from pg. 79 of Markson’s The Last Novel.

     Was Margaret Mitchell one such writer whom he had “at least met in passing”?

     Highly unlikely.

     She died in 1949. He was born in 1927. So it would have had to happen by the time he was 22, ten years before he published his own first novel.

     I wonder which authors he was speaking of when he wrote that line:
     “Old enough to have started coming upon likenesses on postage stamps of other writers he had known personally or had at least met in passing.”

     Does Malcolm Lowry have a stamp? Or Jack Kerouac? Or William Gaddis? Or Dylan Thomas? Or Conrad Aiken? We can be certain he met them.
     Barthelme? Vonnegut?

     Is he counting authors whom he “had but a glimpse of”?

     “Writer had but a glimpse of Faulkner.
     As it happens, of Hemingway también.”
     Markson announced on pg. 161 of This Is Not A Novel.
     And then went on to describe:
     “Faulkner, at a funeral. Small and beady-eyed.
     Hemingway at ringside.”

     Realizing we will probably never know exactly whose likeness on a stamp triggered the inclusion of that line in The Last Novel.

     If such an event even occurred.
     Which itself can be assumed, but most likely never known for certain.

Pg. 176 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:
On which Markson placed an “X” next to and underlined F. Scott Fitzgerald’s misspelling: “Ullyses.”
—-
It is true that F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “spelling was always atrocious,” as Magalaner and Kain mention.
I actually mentioned this fact the other day when I wrote of good writers being bad spellers.
Markson mentioned Fitzgerald’s misspelling of Ulysses as “Ullyses" (from the above scan) in This Is Not A Novel on pg. 32: “F. Scott Fitzgerald’s spelling:Ullyses.”
Elsewhere in This Is Not A Novel, on pg. 138, Markson mentioned  one of the other notorious bad spellers that I brought up in my post the  other day, Herman Melville: “Melville’s spelling: Don Quixotte.”

Pg. 176 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:

On which Markson placed an “X” next to and underlined F. Scott Fitzgerald’s misspelling: “Ullyses.”

—-

It is true that F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “spelling was always atrocious,” as Magalaner and Kain mention.

I actually mentioned this fact the other day when I wrote of good writers being bad spellers.

Markson mentioned Fitzgerald’s misspelling of Ulysses as “Ullyses" (from the above scan) in This Is Not A Novel on pg. 32:
“F. Scott Fitzgerald’s spelling:
Ullyses.”

Elsewhere in This Is Not A Novel, on pg. 138, Markson mentioned one of the other notorious bad spellers that I brought up in my post the other day, Herman Melville:
“Melville’s spelling:
Don Quixotte.”

Pg. 187 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:
On which Markson placed two lines in the margin next to a quote by Edmund Gosse on James Joyce: “There are no English critics of weight or judgement who consider Mr.  Joyce an author of any importance….He is not without talent, but he  has prostituted it to the most vulgar uses.”
And on which he also placed a check mark next to a quote by E. M. Forster where Forster calls Joyce’s Ulysses: “A dogged attempt to cover the universe with mud.”
—-
The first of these contemporary critiques of Joyce pops up in Markson’s Vanishing Point on pg. 55:"There are no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of any importance. Said Edmund Gosse, two years after the publication of Ulysses.”
The second pops up in Markson’s The Last Novel on pg. 15:"A dogged attempt to cover the universe with mud.E. M. Forster called Ulysses.”
Proof that even the greatest novels sometimes get judged poorly (and sometimes by great contemporary minds).
So maybe DeLillo should take heart?

Pg. 187 of David Markson’s copy of Joyce: The Man, the Work, the Reputation by Marvin Magalaner & Richard M. Kain:

On which Markson placed two lines in the margin next to a quote by Edmund Gosse on James Joyce:
“There are no English critics of weight or judgement who consider Mr. Joyce an author of any importance….He is not without talent, but he has prostituted it to the most vulgar uses.”

And on which he also placed a check mark next to a quote by E. M. Forster where Forster calls Joyce’s Ulysses:
“A dogged attempt to cover the universe with mud.”

—-

The first of these contemporary critiques of Joyce pops up in Markson’s Vanishing Point on pg. 55:
"There are no English critics of weight or judgment who consider Mr. Joyce an author of any importance.
Said Edmund Gosse, two years after the publication of Ulysses.”

The second pops up in Markson’s The Last Novel on pg. 15:
"A dogged attempt to cover the universe with mud.
E. M. Forster called Ulysses.”

Proof that even the greatest novels sometimes get judged poorly (and sometimes by great contemporary minds).

So maybe DeLillo should take heart?