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forgetfulsurf's review against another edition
4.0
I'll admit, this is more of a 3.5 stars kind of book, seeing as there's a lot of content, and it varies quite a bit between the obviously genius ('Godot', 'Endgame', 'All That Fall') and the somewhat lacklustre ('Roughs for Theatre', 'Ghost Trio'). The full-length stage plays are great, the radio plays are stellar - and, usually, much easier to read - and the rest is pretty mixed, especially the film scripts and the works that are essentially a set of instructions.. There are some pieces which go on for five or six pages and don't feel like they have much to them other than the beginnings of an idea, and then there are others that come in at under four pages but feel totally whole. All in all, like any writer, Beckett's total body of work is of varying quality, but most of it's worth reading, and the dross makes the diamonds shine even brighter.
anotherbibliophilereads's review against another edition
dark
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
jbstaniforth's review against another edition
4.0
As beautiful and gloriously written as the two previous books in the trilogy, though deliberately harder to follow, constantly falling apart, unwilling to surrender much. The first half was hard and occasionally seemed pointless, but by the second half I'd come to love it and was being driven crazy by it.
heather_wardlaw's review
2.0
This was entertaining for about the first 30 pages, but then it keeps going. The final paragraph is about 100 pages long. Seems as though it is a story from the pov of the nonexistent narrator who narrates Beckett’s other stories. Idk. Kind of weird. Not overly interesting. Hard to pay attention for more than 10 pages at a time since everything is pretty disjointed. Definitely white male academia.
donato's review against another edition
5.0
As I was reading this, my seven-year old said one day, apropos of nothing, You know Dad, if we didn't have ears we'd lose our balance and fall down. I thought of Molloy slithering on the ground, I thought of the head (Mahood, Worm, Beckett, me, you?), stuck [1] staring in one direction perceiving reality as if it were in a Bill Viola video. Experiencing the entire universe through words (voices inside), and thought. Even without ears, we'd feel the sound of the universe.
Is this about what cannot be named, as the title would have it, or is it rather about that which has many names? One, no one, one hundred thousand . Where are we? Inside the narrator's head, the whole time [2]. But who is the narrator? I becomes he becomes we becomes they. Murphy becomes Watt becomes Mercier becomes Molloy becomes Moran becomes Malone becomes Mahood becomes Worm becomes me becomes you becomes everyone. This is literature in its pure form, as found in (our) nature. Most writers (including Beckett himself pre-L'innomable) craft and cut and mix it into shape, giving it a pleasing aesthetic, something that can be contained and understood; but here it's been left in its pure state: liquid gas and solid, all at the same time, and at different times, constantly in flux, (shape) shifting, part of the universe, part of all lived experience, not containable, but definitely nameable: Literature.
[1] And to anyone who thinks Beckett is some sort of absurdist nihilist (apparently some on the Nobel committee thought so), please read this to the end (and then read it again and again and again...).
[2] Apparently, the Japanese writer Minae Mizumura, has said: fiction is "about characters making choices" but the novel (as separate from fiction) "celebrates the superiority of individual interiority over society" (Minae Mizumura's linguistic mission). While that quote initially made me think of Beckett, I now have second thoughts. I don't think Beckett was for "interiority over society" as much as (like Bernhard) interiority = exteriority and vice versa.
Is this about what cannot be named, as the title would have it, or is it rather about that which has many names? One, no one, one hundred thousand . Where are we? Inside the narrator's head, the whole time [2]. But who is the narrator? I becomes he becomes we becomes they. Murphy becomes Watt becomes Mercier becomes Molloy becomes Moran becomes Malone becomes Mahood becomes Worm becomes me becomes you becomes everyone. This is literature in its pure form, as found in (our) nature. Most writers (including Beckett himself pre-L'innomable) craft and cut and mix it into shape, giving it a pleasing aesthetic, something that can be contained and understood; but here it's been left in its pure state: liquid gas and solid, all at the same time, and at different times, constantly in flux, (shape) shifting, part of the universe, part of all lived experience, not containable, but definitely nameable: Literature.
[1] And to anyone who thinks Beckett is some sort of absurdist nihilist (apparently some on the Nobel committee thought so), please read this to the end (and then read it again and again and again...).
[2] Apparently, the Japanese writer Minae Mizumura, has said: fiction is "about characters making choices" but the novel (as separate from fiction) "celebrates the superiority of individual interiority over society" (Minae Mizumura's linguistic mission). While that quote initially made me think of Beckett, I now have second thoughts. I don't think Beckett was for "interiority over society" as much as (like Bernhard) interiority = exteriority and vice versa.
nataalia_sanchez's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
kaisadaughterofthevoid's review against another edition
challenging
dark
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
“Nothing happens, twice”
This statement famously describes Waiting for Godot, but it pretty aptly describes his entire dramatic oeuvre. And that, in a way, is the point. Characters certainly do things in his plays - argue, eat, pack and unpack, attempt suicide, torture each other - but for all the doing that goes on within his plays, nothing happens. No change to the characters, the scenery, the status quo, no indication of any kind of plot progression. Whether it’s ruminating on the past (Krapp’s Last Tape, Play), meekly accepting the horrors of the present (Happy Days, Act Without Words II) or even futile gestures towards a future (Waiting for Godot, Endgame) Beckett’s characters remain stuck, physically and mentally, in ways that remind us uncomfortably of our own lives.
While the plays themselves come highly recommended, this edition was terrible. Whoever digitized these texts needs to be fired, because not only were there a shocking number of typos, but also parts where the editor simply inserted crude JPEGs of text or diagrams whenever something was apparently beyond whatever primitive word processing software was used to create the ebook. Speaking of diagrams, some more may have been rather helpful. Given how complex Beckett’s staging and cinematography can be, I was struggling at times to try to imagine what was actually supposed to be happening. Photos and stills from productions of his work would have added immensely to the work, and I’m disappointed they weren’t included.
A+ Text, C- presentation
This statement famously describes Waiting for Godot, but it pretty aptly describes his entire dramatic oeuvre. And that, in a way, is the point. Characters certainly do things in his plays - argue, eat, pack and unpack, attempt suicide, torture each other - but for all the doing that goes on within his plays, nothing happens. No change to the characters, the scenery, the status quo, no indication of any kind of plot progression. Whether it’s ruminating on the past (Krapp’s Last Tape, Play), meekly accepting the horrors of the present (Happy Days, Act Without Words II) or even futile gestures towards a future (Waiting for Godot, Endgame) Beckett’s characters remain stuck, physically and mentally, in ways that remind us uncomfortably of our own lives.
While the plays themselves come highly recommended, this edition was terrible. Whoever digitized these texts needs to be fired, because not only were there a shocking number of typos, but also parts where the editor simply inserted crude JPEGs of text or diagrams whenever something was apparently beyond whatever primitive word processing software was used to create the ebook. Speaking of diagrams, some more may have been rather helpful. Given how complex Beckett’s staging and cinematography can be, I was struggling at times to try to imagine what was actually supposed to be happening. Photos and stills from productions of his work would have added immensely to the work, and I’m disappointed they weren’t included.
A+ Text, C- presentation
Content Warnings
Graphic: Confinement
Minor: Death, Infidelity, Self harm, Sexual assault, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide, Torture, and Grief