In October of 1909, James Joyce left his family in Trieste, Italy, for a two-month business trip in Dublin. He and his wife, Nora Barnacle, made a pact to write erotic letters to each other while he was away. Nora’s letters have been lost, but James’ were published in 1975, 34 years after his death.
We like these letters. They’re not just sexual, they’re intimate. James Joyce loves everything about his wife’s body, especially what comes out of it—farts, skid marks, poo, what have you. And as much as we think they’re fun to read, they’re infinitely more fun to listen to. In this Quickie, we read one of James Joyce’s most erotically charged letters. Welcome to our book club.