The mystery is not why Joyce went to live in Trieste, but why he ever left it, writes Terence Killeen after attending this year's James Joyce Symposium in the city

The main centre for the 18th International James Joyce Symposium, held in Trieste this year from June 17th to 22nd, was the Stazione Marittima, a large building jutting out into the sea from the harbour. Elegant yachts and liners were moored right outside the windows of many of the rooms, so that while listening to papers being read on 'Postcolonial Intent: Alice in Wonderland as the M(O)ther of Joyce's Postcoloniality' or 'Joyce and his Mystic Brothers: Modernism, Aesthetic Experience and Utopia in Benjamin, Broch and Bloch', one could gaze out at people sunning themselves on deck or watch the vessels being prepared to cast off into the Adriatic waters.

That the temptation to leap out the window and jump on board to join them was felt only very occasionally (and not necessarily in the instances mentioned) was a tribute to the spirit animating this symposium, a spirit that bridged such oppositions without difficulty. The world outside the windows was also part of the story, a fact given appropriate expression both in the formal title of the symposium - Mediterranean Joyce - and in a panel session on Joyce and the sea.

Some 350 enthusiasts gathered for this symposium; inevitably, the chemistry is somewhat different on each of these biennial occasions. Much depends on the city it is held in (always a European venue, usually though not invariably with a Joyce connection); much depends also on events in the Joyce world, on whether there is some development that can give fresh impetus to an enterprise that never seems to flag but which can always do with a new stimulus.

On both counts, this year's symposium scored heavily. The obvious "big thing" this time was the National Library of Ireland's recent acquisition of a substantial cache of Joyce manuscripts. This provided a real and unexpected focus and the plenary session at which Prof Michael Groden (whom I had the great pleasure of introducing) described the documents was plenary not just in name but in actual attendance.

Groden provided the fullest account yet available of what this collection contains. Far from being a dry catalogue, his lecture fully conveyed the excitement of the discovery to a fascinated audience. Fascination changed into something like awe when we heard of the creative genius which could suddenly change Molly's final declaration from "I said yes I would yes" to "I said yes I will yes", thereby, while flouting grammar once again, vastly enhancing the power of the ending of Ulysses. Every successful symposium probably needs a moment of epiphany; this was undoubtedly it.

This remarkable lecture was not the only highlight, however. Also memorable was Terry Eagleton's suave performance on the closing day, a lecture which may not have told us much about Joyce but which reinterpreted Irish literary history in the light of a highly sophisticated Marxism, leaving many in the audience with a vague feeling of unease yet at a loss for a coherent response. It had the supreme merit, therefore, of making people think.

In addition to these and other highlights, every such symposium has currents within it that reflect the changing balance of power in Joyce studies, a field as contested as any other, even if more civilised in its disagreements than some. It was notable on this occasion that theoretical Joyce and even historical Joyce were losing out somewhat to textual Joyce and electronic Joyce, to use a quick shorthand for some of the currents involved.

Obviously  the National Library's recent purchase, along with other earlier finds, has tilted the balance heavily in favour of the study of Joyce manuscripts, though this tendency was already in evidence at the last symposium in London two years ago. This is not an area with which many Joyceans feel happy, but it is certainly where the action is.

Theoretical studies have for some time given the impression of going around in a circle, unable to break out of certain dominant discourses that constituted them in the first place. And even the more recent interest in Joyce and history does not seem to be going anywhere in particular, mainly because it seems more focused on ideological concerns than on the genuine historical study which is needed before any kind of proper basis for it can be established.

As for electronic Joyce, it is clear that this is the future for Joyce studies. The phenomenon, or event, called Joyce is now so sprawling and multitudinous that only in cyberspace can its full implications be realised.

This truth, as I believe it to be, has profound implications for the entire Joyce industry and for the institutional framework in which it is embedded. But these implications are as yet only dimly seen, even at an occasion such as this one. They remain to be explored.

The different currents I have mentioned are not engaged in any kind of overt conflict. In general, they separately pursued their own concerns in Trieste, happily indifferent to each other. Which is not to say that the symposium was entirely without controversy: any occasion which features Bruce Arnold among the attendance for a prolonged period is unlikely to be completely free of it. Mostly, however, it was controversy revisited - another look back at the Gabler edition wars, a mention or two of some more recent disputes, but nothing, happily, to poison the atmosphere in the way the original rows did some 15 years ago.

And then there is the city of Trieste. If Michael Groden's lecture was the spiritual heart of last week's event, Trieste was its physical home. Its welcome to us, from the opening night's reception to the closing night's celebrations, could not have been more cordial. (It should be added, though, that the Irish ambassador to Italy, Frank Cogan, maintained this country's traditions in that regard in fine style with his own reception. Needless to say, the whole issue of hospitality in Joyce was the subject of a particularly successful symposium panel.)

But there is more to the Trieste experience than that. In its own way it is as special a phenomenon as the writer celebrated there last week. Jan Morris, who spoke at the symposium, is only the most recent writer to try to catch its essence. It is not really like an Italian city at all; the words "Italian" and "relaxation" would not often be perceived as going together, but relaxation is one of the central conditions that Trieste inculcates, a state of feeling that Dublin, for instance, has long since lost.

Trieste is not so much a city as a way of life, all the more seductive because it forces no lessons on you. As some of us sat in an open-air bar under the warm Italian night, following the usual raucous sing-song that tends to end these occasions, exchanging the ideas and arguments that are the real life-blood of symposiums such as this, it seemed that the wonder was not that Joyce had come to live there, but that he had ever left.