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Finnegans Wake, the final novel of James Joyce, is a literary enigma—an experiment that stretched the boundaries of language over the course of 17 years. Beneath its chaotic prose lies a deeply personal layer, one that reflects Joyce’s relationship with his beloved daughter, Lucia.

Lucia Joyce was the apple of her father’s eye. She had a talent for dance and once harbored feelings for the young Samuel Beckett. However, as time went on, signs of mental instability emerged, and she was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia. Her condition deteriorated, and in 1936, she was committed to a mental institution. Joyce, desperate to help her, insisted that she was not ill but a misunderstood genius. He clung to the belief that her thoughts were simply too profound for the world to comprehend. Yet, his words seemed tinged with helplessness. The years in which he wrote Finnegans Wake coincided with the worsening of Lucia’s condition. Perhaps Joyce’s use of "the language of dreams" in the novel was an attempt to reach her, to find a way to communicate that would transcend the limits of ordinary speech.

Within Finnegans Wake, we find the father figure, HCE (Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker), and his daughter, Issy (Isabel). Issy exists in a state of flux, caught between childhood and womanhood, often contrasted with her mother, ALP (Anna Livia Plurabelle). She gazes into mirrors, searching for herself, but what she sees is never quite clear. It is a reflection warped by uncertainty, much like Lucia’s own shifting self-image. She longed for a place in the world of dance, yet societal expectations and her own mind blurred the boundaries of her identity.

One of Issy’s defining acts in the novel is writing letters—an attempt at self-expression. But these letters are either unread, misunderstood, or lost in the flow of time. This echoes Lucia’s own struggle: a daughter yearning to communicate with her father, but whose voice was drowned out in the cacophony of the world. The parallel becomes all the more poignant when we consider HCE’s central predicament—his ambiguous "sin," and the unceasing scrutiny he faces. While he is burdened by guilt and the weight of perception, Issy wrestles with self-recognition. Their dynamic, infused with distance and yearning, mirrors Joyce’s own painful relationship with Lucia. He wanted to protect her, to hold onto her brilliance, yet he could not reach the depths of her world.

In the end, Joyce never saw Lucia again. He passed away in 1941, while she remained institutionalized for decades. What thoughts lingered in her heart toward her father? We can never know. In Finnegans Wake, Issy’s letters are carried away by the river, their words dissolving into oblivion. It is as if Lucia’s unheard cries were swallowed by the passage of time.

In his final moments, what did Joyce see? Was it the vision of his daughter dancing, or was it the endless flow of words from Finnegans Wake? The labyrinth of language he left behind is a dreamlike construct, and within it lies the unspoken—words he could never quite say. Perhaps, when we immerse ourselves in his dream, we might, if only for a fleeting moment, touch the remnants of that lost connection.