In James Joyce's Ulysses, nothing of significance takes place. People eat, drink, walk around, use the toilet. Like life itself, it’s just a lot of random events in no meaningful order. This, then, might be the grand attack that Ulysses launches on literary tradition. After Ulysses, how could we ever return to conventional narrative devices? How could readers—or writers—go back to breathing in the stale odor of plot after the bracing fresh air of life itself?
https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2022/12/07/misreading-ulysses/
@PatrickOBeirne Bloomin loads of times;-)