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In direct contrast to the James Joyce book that it’s named after (a novel that has surely turned some English majors into geography majors), Finnegans Wake pub is easy to figure out. The laid-back bar is as much about eating as drinking, and the menu is as authentic as the Irish waitresses (many of who will answer your questions with “Oh, aye.”) The fried fish is batter-dipped and served with vinegar, the shepherd’s pie is spot-on, and corned beef and cabbage is a frequent special. A portrait of Joyce lords over the bar, as if assuring the neighborhood crowd, “Relax, drink, eat fried things.”