By Tinashe Mushakavanhu*
Every year on 16 June, readers around the world celebrate Bloomsday, the annual commemoration of Irish writer James Joyce’s landmark 1922 novel Ulysses.
The date marks the single day on which the novel unfolds: 16 June 1904, when its protagonist, Leopold Bloom, wanders through the city of Dublin. What began as a literary observance has become a global celebration of reading.
In 2026 the festivities in Johannesburg had a special South African quality to them. At the centre of the event was South African writer and translator Sandile Ngidi’s isiZulu rendering of the character Molly Bloom’s famous soliloquy, the concluding episode of Ulysses.
As a scholar of African literatures, I am interested in how literary ideas travel. My research has shown how writers from very different contexts can grapple with similar political and artistic questions. Ngidi’s translation opens up one of the most challenging works of literature to new readers.
The isiZulu translation represents only a small portion of this vast and notoriously difficult novel. Ulysses is based on one ordinary day in the lives of three characters who live in Dublin. It uses their experiences to explore identity, memory, desire, and modern life in early 20th-century Ireland.
Since its publication, Ulysses has been formally translated into more than 40 languages, mostly within Europe. Its journey into isiZulu reminds us that literature travels most powerfully when it crosses linguistic and cultural boundaries and returns us to the urgent questions of our own time.
Translation as an act of imagination
Bridge Books, a community-centred bookshop in inner city Johannesburg, hosted the Bloomsday event, which also included readings from South African writers Ivan Vladislavić and Terry-Ann Adams.
By holding a multilingual Bloomsday celebration in parts of the city where anti-immigrant groups have been marching, the organisers underscored a simple but powerful point: the civic imagination at the heart of Joyce’s work remains relevant wherever diverse communities claim space through stories and conversation.
Ulysses is really about random and seemingly mundane interactions. Molly Bloom is one of the main characters, an opera singer who spends the day mostly in bed. Bloomsday is named after her and her husband, who is also a main character. He’s wandering the city remembering the death of their son, and stewing in the knowledge that Molly is having an affair. This is the universal drama of human life.
Ngidi’s translation matters. It challenges assumptions about which languages are considered suitable for conveying the so-called world literature. African languages are not peripheral to global literary culture but active participants in it, capable of carrying, reshaping and reinterpreting some of the most demanding works ever written.
In fact, reading Joyce in isiZulu raises larger questions about literary inheritance. Who owns a literary classic? Joyce himself was deeply concerned with the relationship between language and power.
Writing from a colonised Ireland, he grappled with the complexities of expressing Irish experience through English, the language of imperial rule. His work repeatedly explores tensions between local identity and global influence, between inherited forms and new possibilities.
James Joyce for everyone
The concerns in Joyce’s fiction have become even more pertinent. Across many parts of the world, debates about belonging have become increasingly fraught. In both Ireland and South Africa, questions of migration, national identity and cultural inclusion have generated political tensions and, at times, hostility towards foreigners.
Joyce is often regarded as a writer for specialists and university students. His novels have a reputation for difficulty that makes them seem inaccessible. Yet events like the one in Johannesburg suggest a different story. Joyce survives because readers continue to reinvent him, finding new contexts, new languages and new communities in which his work can live.
Translation, in this sense, is more than a literary exercise. It is an act of imagination that allows readers to encounter familiar questions from a different vantage point. Rather than simply reproducing Ulysses, the translation creates a new reading experience that illuminates both Joyce’s novel and the expressive possibilities of isiZulu.
By carrying Joyce into isiZulu, Ngidi expands not only the readership of Ulysses but also the range of perspectives through which the novel can be understood.
The translation demonstrates that African languages are not simply vehicles for local experience; they are capable of engaging the most complex works of world literature while bringing new meanings to them.
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* Assistant Professor, Harvard University
