Ulysses - a failure, but whose?

So - James Joyce, Ulysses...stream of consciousness narrative. I've tried to read this book 3 or 4 times before and never got beyond page 43. I can tell you this as the bookmark was still in there from the previous aborted attempt. I can even date it, as the bookmark is a train ticket - October 2003, when I apparently optimistically tried to start reading Ulysses on the train from London to Langley Mill near Nottingham, on the way to see the software provider for the recruitment database I was working on at the time. I remember the trip quite clearly, but not the book. Telling. Anyway. On this attempt I was absolutely determined not to be beaten - I've found books difficult before, and have made my way through them, and on this challenge, I didn't see not finishing a book as an option. I have tried really, really hard. I've made it all the way to page 200, and so far all I can discern as having happened is: - Some young men who unfathomably houseshare in a tower have breakfast - One goes to work and gets paid - A man walks to the shops and buys a kidney for his breakfast, which he forgets about when cooking but just manages to catch before it burns - Those two men plus some others spend a lot of time discussing funerals and then attend one. That's it. 200 pages!! And another 700 to go. When I first starting reading this I asked on Facebook whether I was being thick in not finding it easier to read. Apparently, I am not alone in this, and my friend Joanna described stream of consciousness narrative as "having no narrative". She's an English teacher by training, so I trust her opinion on this! The thing is, I'm sure that if I really focus closely on drawing out what is happening, there will eventually turn out to be a narrative, slow-moving as it may be, hidden within the stream of consciousness. Not many books have defeated me, and I know that I am capable of reading it and understanding it, if I try hard enough. However, I just don't want to! There are too many books in the world, let alone other things to do, to waste time reading something as unintuitive and unenjoyable as this just to be able to say I have read it. I do also understand that literature is not all about the narrative, and what happens in the end - it's about the way the journey is portrayed, the display of intellect, the use of techniques to create a particular effect. I've read other books - A Suitable Boy is a great example, actually - where it is so long and involved that you have to stop focusing on what's going to happen at the end, and just sink into the way the story is told, the characterisation, relationships, and the style of writing. It took me three months to read, but I didn't mind because it felt like an achievement, it's intellectually challenging, but there is pleasure to be had in the act of reading. Ulysses is not like this. Thus far, there is no characterisation, no appearance of relationships between the characters...there aren't even really many finished sentences. It's impossible to sink into because the stream of consciousness is so difficult to follow, and if I relax and read at anything approaching my usual speed, I get to the end of a page and realise that what I've just read has no meaning. Sometimes, a slower re-reading also yields no meaning... And I think that's the problem - it doesn't display any of the characteristics that I associate with either a pleasurable read, or a difficult but worthwhile read. The story isn't compelling, the characters are neither likeable nor interesting...nor are they really anything more than names on a page. The language isn't beautiful. It isn't teaching me anything about a historical context. It feels, if I'm honest, like it has been written just to be clever, with no other redeeming features. According to one of the soundbites on the back, it gives an unmissable flavour of Dublin life. Really? So far, it hasn't given a flavour of anything outside of two people's internal monologues, and they appear to be two dull people! At about page 140, one of the characters said something along the lines of "Shite and onions! Life's too short for..." (and I can't remember what). And that's the conclusion I've come to - life is too short to read another 700 pages of something I won't really take in (including the last 200 pages with no punctuation - what a treat) and therefore I am declaring Ulysses a failure. Mine, really, as Joyce managed to finish it, but I couldn't. I'm sure that die-hard Joyce fans (if there are any, I've never met one) would tell me that I'm missing something, but I am left with the suspicion that this is one of those books which people recommend to sound intellectual, whilst not actually having read it. Don't bother, unless you have unlimited time on your hands! If anyone has any wisdom into what I'm missing, let me know - I can't promise I'll try again but if there is a better understanding to be had of why this is considered to be such a key piece of literature, I'd like to at least know! Ulysses passes onto the very small pile of books which have beaten me (Nicholas Nickelby, Ian McEwan's Saturday, Captain Corelli's Mandolin, and this...I think that's it), and I will move on to the next thing. I need to find something on the list which isn't painful to read, and preferably doesn't take place in France or on a ship, as I need a change after the Count of Monte Cristo! Any recommendations? Rant over... :-)