Book Review: "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce

I have heard here and there, over the years, about the greatness of James Joyce, so I thought I would give him a try.  Mistake.

Much of it was stream of conscience--my least favorite form of writing.  Still, it wasn't indeciperable as some.  He did manage to bog things down in multiple places.  Why would you put pages of a sermon that he hears in church in the book?  I know he had questions about his faith, but that was ridiculous.  I skipped over it.  I bet most people would.  There were a number of places that I skipped. 

Some parts I liked, and since this was his first novel, I could see bits of brilliance--but come on--does a person's stream of conscience come out as poetic?  No, humans are more simple than that.  When I walk the dog, I think, "Look, there are some ducks.  It is too cold for Maggie to swim after them.  I wish spring would arrive."  Does that seem poetic? 

I read that his later books are more so, so I don't think they are for me.