"I come from a culture that was isolated for a long time - I have my own story to tell, in my own style, and an aesthetic approach that was mostly self-taught. So, does it fit a reader's curiosity? Will it meet their expectations?"

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The personality of the artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid, and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalises itself, so to speak. The aesthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of aesthetic like that of material creation is accomplished. The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.

— James Joyce