Ronnie Coleman's words, "Everybody wants to be a bodybuilder, but don't nobody wanna lift no heavy ass weight," hold a certain truth. In a similar vein, while everyone might claim to be a rebel, when push comes to shove, we often conform. Ionesco's play has a powerful way of making the reader confront their (political) failings. The statements in the second half made me stop and look around, almost as if he was in the room with me. What's remarkable is that although the metaphor is mainly directed at Fascism, it can apply to various forms of extremism in different contexts. The only aspect that gives it a fascist flavor are a few remarks about "going beyond moral standards," which are more Nietzschean than specifically fascist.

I particularly liked the play's slow start and build-up, as well as the decision not to "show" the rhinoceroses. The 1974 film version with Gene Wilder did an excellent job of capturing the atmosphere of the slow build-up, that eerie sense of prescience and foreboding, and the experience of witnessing something that others refuse to believe. The written version of the first scene was a bit of a struggle to read because it jumped so quickly between characters who were speaking almost simultaneously, which would be a challenge to stage but could be very effective if done well in a production.

The second half of the play really stood out in its extra-political aspects, especially the deteriorating relationship between Daisy and Berenger. Berenger repeatedly declares his love, but Daisy ignores him, and eventually, she walks out of the apartment in a trance. In an era when politics often becomes people's "god," this felt extremely relevant and almost painful to read. Even more than politics dividing loved ones, the most alarming thing that Ionesco pointed out was the kind of "enabling" that often occurs in the name of "tolerance." We become so afraid to lovingly criticize others that we essentially let them become fascists. Now, I'm not singling out any particular groups or trends, but I'm sure we can all think of some situations where this fits perfectly, where people are harming themselves or others or setting themselves or others on a dangerous path, but certain categories or ideologies are protected. We feel powerless to speak out, but are we really?

For me, perhaps the most disturbing part was when Daisy tried to get Berenger to affirm the ugly as beautiful, to violate something deep within himself, and to accept as true something so ugly and false that it stains the soul. As the dialogue shows, Daisy insists that the rhinoceroses are singing and dancing beautifully, while Berenger sees them for what they are – disgusting. This perverse trend of twisting words and truth, of making demigods out of people, is similar to what Nietzsche lamented in the rise of Slave Morality. Despite what some of our contemporaries might think by lumping all premodern worldviews together, there are significant differences between them, as seen in the old tripartite distinction of ancient, medieval, and modern.

However, the main character, Berenger, is not perfect. He has his flaws, and even his resistance to the rhinos is imperfect. Just a few pages before his famous proclamation at the end that he will never give in, he loses the moral battle. He slaps Daisy, and in that moment of violence, Daisy realizes that he has lost. She spits in his face and walks out, and he can't even bear to watch. The important lesson here is that fascism is not just something that happens "out there," caused by some mysterious, unaccountable forces. It's also our fault. Not only because our vigilance has waned, but because our moral sense has been dulled, and we have forgotten to tend to the delicate roots of equality and justice, which is the Christian slave morality that Nietzsche railed against. Whether we like it or not, our concept of equality and justice depends on whether we tend to the root, whether we water and weed it, and whether we hold the faith. So let's get back to gardening, to discourse, and to the loving criticism of ourselves and our friends. So much depends on it.

An absurdist comedy that satirizes common sense. In a world where everyone seemingly opts to turn into a Rhinoceros rather than lead their normal lives. The dialog in this play challenges the purpose of existence, with Berenger, the main protagonist, grappling with his drinking problem. The play serves as a meta commentary on life, questioning aspects such as logic, love, work, and the urge to reject one's own human nature.

While there are numerous excellent elements in this play, it doesn't qualify as an all-time greatest work of art in my view. The aesthetic of absurdity is remarkable on its own, yet there is literature that delves deeper and more ineffably into the human condition. This is a highly comedic play with dialog presented in very plain, non-poetic speech. It doesn't strive to be otherwise, and that's a great aspect in its own right, making it well worth reading. I would rate it a 7/10.

I think I'm starting to understand Ionesco, which is no small thing for me. The mechanisms of his theater, of the theater of the absurd of which he was a precursor along with another giant like Beckett.

Not only do I begin to understand him, but although it may seem strange, I enjoy it. Each reading of this genre is an adventure. What do they want to tell you? The story often mutates, or at least you make the interpretation mutate. There's always something you don't quite understand. "Now this... What does it mean?" In a word, you're not calm at any moment of the narration.

In this particular story, the play starts with an incredible and completely improvised presence that breaks the tranquility of all those in the square of a city, except for a character called Berenguer. Berenguer is an existentialist drinker who finds life a burden, something too hard, as he has recognized at the beginning to his so-called friend Juan.

"(…) Juan: What are you afraid of?
Berenguer: I don't really know. Difficult-to-define anguishes. I don't feel comfortable in existence, among people, so I take a glass. That calms me, relaxes me, makes me forget. (…)"

A surprising presence, a rhinoceros in the middle of the city. What does that presence mean, or the haste of everyone to get away from the beast (apart from the obvious danger)? What does Berenguer's indolent and passive attitude mean? For me, after reading 10 pages about the rhinoceros, it necessarily meant DEATH (I was advancing in confusion). Everyone gets out of its way; no one wants to think about it, except for the one to whom it makes no difference; but suddenly it manifests itself untimely and there the calm, the appearance, and the will have been broken.

"(…) Juan: If you value me, why do you contradict me by pretending that it's not dangerous to let a rhinoceros run through the very center of the city, especially on a Sunday morning when the streets are full of children... and also of adults...
Berenguer: Many are at mass. Those don't risk anything... (…)"

There's a lot of symbolism in a little text. Religion covers everything, protects us from everything. We throw that blanket over ourselves and outside are the philosophical problems about life or destiny.

Ionesco's typical resources begin: the characters speak with clichés, chit-chat to fill the gaps (life), with repetitions that they make, the same expressions repeated over and over again: "this one is really good" "this one is really good" "what do you think of that?"; silly crossed conversations among all the protagonists, insignificant and senseless conversations, everyone crosses ridiculous conversations trying to calm themselves, their little miseries; everyone is alarmed at the beginning and cross ridiculous conversations, say recurrent expressions, all the protagonists except Berenguer.

After the initial scare, quickly everyone will return to their routines, nothing more. They don't learn, they don't draw conclusions. And the story mutates, and my interpretation of the story too.

In the second act, a new character Botard appears. He is a true skeptic who doubts the very presence of rhinoceroses and of all institutions, of journalism, of all the news. There is also a transformation in the story with the appearance of more and more rhinoceroses and... I won't tell more.

Once again, what does this mean now? It's no longer that presence of death that I thought before. It could be a social alienation that follows certain patterns of behavior, the good tone of society, the religious guidelines, etc. I won't discover more, leaving the interpretation to each one.

The disbelieving and tormented types, the sufferers, remain in their own hell on earth, like Botard and of course Berenguer. However, the submissive and docile ones...

Influences: Ionesco and Beckett were contemporaries and influenced each other; that theater of the absurd that they both feed back. I also see a clear influence of Kafka, of The Metamorphosis, in particular. As I said at the beginning, reading these authors is quite an adventure, a reading experience, and a challenge that I always like to face.

I thought the scene where one character was literally turning into a rhino in front of the other character was so fun!

It was truly a remarkable and entertaining moment. The transformation was vividly depicted, as if right before our eyes. The other character's reaction was also quite interesting, showing a mix of惊讶 and disbelief.

This kind of奇幻scene added a lot of excitement and mystery to the story. It made me wonder what would happen next and how the characters would deal with this unexpected situation.

Overall, it was a memorable and enjoyable scene that left a lasting impression on me. I can't wait to see what other惊喜awaits in the rest of the story.