This is included in my video on Beckett's life and work:

The video delves into the fascinating life and remarkable body of work of Beckett. It explores the various aspects of his existence, from his early years to his later achievements.

Beckett's work is known for its unique style and profound themes. The video examines his plays, novels, and other literary works, highlighting the key elements that make them so influential.

By watching this video, viewers can gain a deeper understanding of Beckett's life and work. They can learn about his creative process, his influences, and the impact his work has had on the world of literature.

Whether you are a fan of Beckett's work or simply interested in learning more about this important literary figure, this video is sure to provide valuable insights and entertainment.

So, don't miss out on this opportunity to explore the life and work of Beckett. Click on the link below to watch the video now: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teB1U...

Reviews:

- Molloy: This work presents a unique and complex exploration of the human condition. The story unfolds in a rather mysterious and often confusing manner, yet it manages to draw the reader in with its strange charm. The characters are vividly portrayed, and their experiences and emotions are palpable.

- Malone Dies: In this novel, the author delves deeper into the themes of existence and mortality. Malone's journey towards death is both poignant and thought-provoking. The writing style is简洁 yet powerful, capturing the essence of Malone's inner turmoil and his struggle to come to terms with his fate.

- The Unnamable: This is perhaps the most enigmatic of the three works. The story seems to exist in a realm beyond comprehension, with a narrator who defies definition. The language is dense and challenging, but it rewards careful reading with insights into the nature of identity and the limits of language itself. Overall, these three reviews offer a glimpse into the fascinating world of Samuel Beckett's literature.

This is your brain on drugs...



The image shows a brain that is likely affected by drugs, perhaps in a state of chaos or disarray. Drugs can have a profound impact on the brain, altering its chemistry and functionality.

http://www.popsugar.com/love/photo-ga...



This is my brain on Beckett...



Here, the brain seems to be in a different state, perhaps one of deep thought or inspiration. Beckett's works are known for their complexity and depth, and reading them can have a profound impact on the reader's mind.

Plate from “Essai d’Anatomie” produced by Gautier D’Agoty in 1745, Paris



Upon reading the last pages, sentences, words...this is Beckett.



The final image shows a photograph that may represent the essence of Beckett's writing. The words and sentences of his works can have a powerful effect on the reader, leaving a lasting impression.

\\"Lifeblood\\" by Diana Debord, photography

A classic absurdist trilogy that, even after two reads, I firmly believe I would still need to read again.

The second reading was indeed better than the first, yet I have this lingering sense that it truly merits another perusal.

Based on everything else I've had the pleasure of reading by this author, it's highly likely that this trilogy is his absolute best work.

Each installment in the trilogy presents a unique and mind-bending exploration of the absurd, challenging the reader's perception of reality and forcing them to question the very nature of existence.

The characters are complex and multifaceted, their actions and decisions often defying logic and convention.

The writing style is both engaging and thought-provoking, drawing the reader in and keeping them hooked from start to finish.

All in all, this classic absurdist trilogy is a must-read for anyone who enjoys literature that pushes the boundaries and challenges the status quo.

One of the most bizarre books I have ever almost written is truly a strange and unique experience.

It's difficult to put into words exactly what makes it so strange. There are elements within it that are completely out of the ordinary, defying the norms and expectations of traditional literature.

I can't say anything else about it at this moment. Maybe it's because the story is still evolving in my mind, or perhaps there are certain aspects that I'm not quite ready to share.

But one thing is for sure, this book has the potential to be something truly remarkable. It's a work that challenges the boundaries of imagination and creativity, and I'm excited to see where it will ultimately lead.

Whether it will be a masterpiece or a complete failure, only time will tell. But for now, I'll continue to work on it, exploring the strange and wonderful world that exists within its pages.

I got on a Beckett kick this month. I delved into his works such as The Complete Short Prose, 1929-1989 and Happy Days.

I also watched Harold Pinter perform the last bit of The Unnamable and was completely captivated. When I read that same part in the book, I found myself wondering if driving nails through my skull would be less painful.

Beckett is truly meant to be read aloud and performed. When brought to life on stage or read with passion and drama, he展现出beyond brilliant.

However, to read him cold can be a different story. One paragraph in Molly is a staggering 87 pages long! One Paragraph!. It makes me think that people must have read differently back in his day. They were likely more patient in their reading, perhaps with fewer distractions.

But all that aside, my advice is don't just read Beckett. Listen to him or watch him performed. It's an incredible experience that truly brings his works to life.

I don't really have a strong inclination to write extensively about Beckett at this juncture. I simply wish to note that while it seems everyone adores Malone Dies the most, in my humble opinion, the other two novels are superior. Malone is不错, but the scenery is overly comprehensible - an immovable dying man left with his thoughts. It's all too easy to imagine. Beckett's trilogy is centered around the gradual emptying of "a novel", yet this middle installment in Malone discovers a rather facile pretense.

In contrast, the random paralyses that afflict Molloy and Moran are far more disconcerting. Molloy has a neat Kafkaesque surrealist ambiance, but otherwise it presents that peculiar form of Beckettian body-horror, where the body appears both as the conditio sine qua non of a man (Cartesian dualism offers no salvation here) and as an obstacle to (at least illusory) happiness. In other words, to be implies to suffer.

However, nothing can ready us for the indescribable logorrheic terror of The Unnamable. Here, we are confronted with what - an egg? A shapeless body-without-organs, an abstraction of Molloy and Moran and Murphy, an empty template for them, their transcendental condition of possibility, and an abstract machine in pursuit of total deterritorialization. Nevertheless, in the end, it's still just a man. What else could it be? And therein lies the utter horror. The thoughts gradually dissolve in acid, any pretense of being a novel or any sort of respectable literature is shed. For the last fifty pages, with its sentences stretching on interminably, it's the kind of "I-could-do-that-too" (though why would you, why would anyone) drivel. But if one allows oneself to be sucked in (why would anyone do that, though...), one is lost.

\\"…ah if only this voice could stop, this meaningless voice which prevents you from being nothing, just barely prevents you from being nothing and nowhere…\\"

\\"…like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born in a cage and dead in a cage, in a word like a beast, in one of their words, like such a beast, and that I seek, like such a beast, with my little strength, such a beast, with nothing in species left but fear and fury, no, the fury is past, nothing but fear...\\"

\\"…I can’t go on in any case. But I must go on. So I’ll go on…\\"

In the evening, after a visit to the opera or a concert, you come to the restaurant of the "Z A K A R" hotel, which is open until 1 am. You listen to the musician in the corner, let your eyes wander among the elegant crowd, and have a late, expensive dinner, the main course of which is the famous cake named after the place - "Zachar Torte". And if it disappoints you a bit, it's because all the highly praised things are often disappointing when you encounter them for the first time, starting from the "number one" in Louvre, through the Pisa Tower, and ending with the Zachar Torte. But still, one should not give them up...

(Yosef Lpid - from "Lpid's Guide to Europe - Central - Austria - Germany - Romania - Switzerland" - 1978/9)

August is terrible. While others leave us on their way to visit monuments overseas, I chose to stroll around myself and add some more literary peaks to my repertoire - the famous trilogy of Beckett. Yes, yes, I didn't approach the work completely ignorant or without any expectations. It's hard, in this age of information, to come across a famous monument without knowing something about it. I'll even admit that I had a very good idea of what to expect. It's not that I let this knowledge paralyze my hand; on the contrary, one could perhaps say that it even encouraged me to open the aforementioned work. But still, I shed blood along the way. What do I mean by shedding blood? I sacrificed blood, my blood was shed, and rivers of blood flowed. Maybe I'm exaggerating. I'm exaggerating. I'm not. It's not that I'm forced to find a meaningful plot, dialogues, content, coherence, readings, a beginning, a middle, and an end in order to read it, in order to evaluate it. What do you mean, dear readers? I knew exactly what was in store for me, and yet I approached the task with open eyes. And what did I see? What did I discover?

Regarding the first novel, "Molloy" - the first part of it managed to clarify the oxymoron into which I had fallen. Well, Beckett is a genius. Beckett was a genius. If we're being precise - he is considered a literary genius by many. His creation was, at that time, still groundbreaking. He was definitely a genius. This becomes clear already from the beginning of the reading. The character of Molloy, that is, the scenes, that is, the situations, everything is so basic, lofty, impressive, and yet it doesn't lead anywhere (obviously, this is precisely the point). I'm dying for such surrealism. Every line screams - how didn't I think of, write about, this before?

But then, after a few lines, paragraphs (here there is still minimal use of the traditional division into paragraphs), pages, you suddenly want to shout - enough, I understood the idea, all this is repeating itself, getting loose, freeing itself, enough. But the book goes on and on (and it is printed as books were once printed here - small font, dense lines, compressed pages - and generally, this is how I prefer my books, not like today - where books are sold by weight, inflating all kinds of junk, using thick paper, double spaces, and a font for the blind - but here it's just hopeless, endless). But then you start to laugh. This is absurd (try the stone-throwing scene, how can you not come back to a stone twice), this is just brilliant, and then okay, it goes on, it meanders, it bores, you don't see the end, and then you laugh again, brilliant... Do you understand, dear readers?

And then the second part comes. The second part of "Molloy". Well, here it's just literature at its best (not that you should expect a plot, content, and all that). Well, except for a few not really readable passages (another problem with this literature - and it's not that I don't have experience with texts of this kind, Heidegger, Derrida, and the like are not strangers to me, but then I was younger, more tolerant, open to experiments, stubborn, always eager for hidden wisdom - the problem as mentioned, but here it's still relatively minor). And when you finish, then the first part, "Moor", suddenly appears in a new "light". The connections between the parts, real or imagined, well, this gives all of this a certain depth, a certain beauty.

Easily, I award (well, this doesn't cost me money) "Molloy" 4 stars. It's worth reading, literature at its best.

And what about the second book, "Malone Dies"? Obviously, here too there are brilliant passages (don't get angry at the scene of lying on the back and stomach in the rain), but fewer, and a bit more unreadable passages and a lot more boring brilliance. In short - 3 stars. Good literature, but only if you have a surplus of free time and patience, and you're willing to dig a lot of trash to find a few pearls.

And what about "Watt"? You ask. Well, as many colors as there are. Of course, you wanted to ask from the beginning. In fact, they all know that they are dead. Even I, before I started, knew exactly that the dog was buried here. No, I'm not allowed to complain. I knew exactly what was waiting for me. How is this possible? It's possible! - Hints, excerpts from reviews, suggestions. Apparently, the literary senses are already sharp enough. And maybe it was they who put the idea into my head in the first place? Still, I lay on the fence for you. I shed blood, rivers of blood. I had a professor at the university who claimed that texts like these should not be read, of course not to prevent them - one just needs to "skim" over them - a passage here, a passage there, a line here, a line there. Good advice he had - I recommend it to you if you insist on trying "Watt" (and don't expect to believe that it gets better or at least changes or improves at some stage). But I, this stubbornness ingrained in me, this false pride - I read everything slowly, slowly. So slowly, God! I read everything and trembled in order to tell. I read everything, so many philosophical ideas in a nutshell, which expanded into a whole unreadable novel on purpose, repeating themselves over and over and over and over again. The neighbors would say about this "it bores you to death", on the other hand, I don't think the neighbors, in any neighborhood at all, are able to describe to themselves that such a thing exists, that there is such a thing that bores. So yes, this is also brilliant. This exists. This must exist. But really to read this? See my warning, dear readers. He who saves his soul will keep away.

**Molloy**

In August 2018, I read "Molloy" and gave it 3 stars. The story is quite disjointed and not linear in time, which makes it confusing for both the reader and perhaps for Molloy himself. Part 1 left me unsure of what was truly happening, but it was still intriguing. I got the sense that Molloy was in the midst of a depressive state or some mental illness, on a journey to rock bottom and perhaps back up. Part 2 made me a bit more of a convert. It's about a man trying to walk the tightrope of a normal life and falling off, then trying to make sense of it all. It's like what we all do in life. I think Molloy might be Moran in a schizophrenic/psychotic state, and Moran tries to control his life because he never knows when Molloy will appear. Of course, I may have gotten it all wrong, but I do plan on reading the other two books in the trilogy.

**Malone Dies**

In May 2019, I read "Malone Dies", also giving it 3 stars. The mystery of Beckett's writing continues. Malone finds himself in a room with only the basic necessities. It could be that Beckett is saying that at the end of life, we only need the basics. Malone is alone, with only one visitor. If he's Molloy, he's led a confusing life and ended up in some institution. He tries to make sense of his life by telling the story of Macmann. The ending is well written, with Malone dying but not giving up. It's a strange tale with a positive life-affirming outlook. I like it but don't really understand it, and I will continue the trilogy.
**The Unnamable**

In November 2020, I read "The Unnamable", again rating it 3 stars. This last segment of the trilogy is just as messed up as the others. Is this Limbo? The Unnamable endures suffering, confusion, and identity issues as he awaits something. He's a helpless entity but also important and part of a whole. He ponders and tries to find peace, which seems to require an acceptance of one's humbleness. As in the first two parts, Beckett gives a positive, life-affirming feel to this confusing tale.
**The Trilogy as a whole**

Making my way through this trilogy was a mixture of emotions. There were moments of admiration, insight, confusion, and true head-scratching. But in a strange way, it all comes together at the end of each book and as a whole. Molloy's life is out of control, but he finds hope. Malone's final days show a positive want to live. And the Unnamable endures and contemplates. My review is a confusing mess, but I hope it's also positive and affirming. This book probably deserves a higher rating, but so much went over my head that I can only give it 3 stars. I enjoyed most of it and understood enough to rate it this way.

Physical existence's soul has now become a verbal entity to hell! Beckett turned me upside down, that's different but I have a question; can I learn what those who are accustomed to Beckett's humor and absurd characters do afterwards? ^^

Beckett's works are truly unique and have a profound impact on readers. His use of humor and absurdity challenges our traditional understanding of reality and forces us to think in new ways.

After being exposed to Beckett's style, some people may find themselves inspired to explore other forms of literature or art that push the boundaries. Others may simply appreciate the beauty and complexity of his work on a deeper level.

In any case, Beckett's influence is undeniable, and his works continue to be studied and enjoyed by people around the world. Whether you are a fan of his or simply curious about his style, there is always something new to discover and learn from his writing.

This book is truly enormous, much bigger than I am.

Despite its size, I am determined to spend a week carefully going back over it.

I want to give it my absolute best effort to do justice to its contents.

In fact, the idea of conducting a seance to invoke the spirit of Beckett is not entirely out of the question.

Perhaps by doing so, I can gain a deeper understanding of the book and its author.

It may seem a bit extreme, but I am willing to explore any avenue that might help me better appreciate this remarkable work.

I am excited to embark on this journey of discovery and see where it leads me.

Who knows what insights and revelations I might uncover along the way?

One thing is for sure, though: I am committed to making the most of this opportunity and giving this book the attention it deserves.

**An Assault on Logic**

And an assault on my peace of mind. Beckett's acclaimed trilogy—Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnameable—presented a unique challenge for me. It was like reading the wrong book at the wrong time. I'm certain that a few years ago, when I was delving into the works of Heidegger, Joyce, and Faulkner, I might have taken on Beckett's demands with more seriousness. However, attempting to tackle Burroughs and Beckett this past year has made me realize that my capacity lies more in the realm of the intelligible. Literature that delves into the absurd and praises insanity, like Beckett's, often leaves me lost in a forest of meaninglessness.

Even so, there is something about Beckett's approach that seems essential to the human experience. It's a perspective that is often silenced by the parameters set by the sane, the logical, and the reasonable, whether in universities or by those of high social standing or class. Ironically, these are the very people who are likely to read Beckett. In the Trilogy, the world is filled with "nameless things" and "thingless names," and the association between them is nullified by "icy meaning" that oppresses the characters in various comedic forms.

The characters moan about the flesh, fixating on bodily functions and mundane details. They suck on pebbles, pocket rocks, and stare listlessly at the sea. They openly and glumly face mortality, with a nihilistic toss of the hands. Lulled by the passing of time, they "devour the world," counting the days, the showers, and the "chatter of the sparrows at dawn." In this active wandering of thought, one either becomes mute or falls into a kind of glossolalic tourette, as I experienced in The Unnameable. Here, Beckett directly confronts the world, filled with confusion and unexplained events, which saves one from the pressure to conceptualize and totalize experience a priori.

Utterance is the primary method of writing in the Trilogy, privileging the natural sound of speech over polished language. Identity becomes fractured, ceasing to refer to a single existence. Beckett, unable to identify a cohesive self, fragments further into the naked fractals of his own disfigured phenomenology. This may be why, as a reader, I struggled to find meaning. Drowning in meaninglessness, I cursed this Irish bastard, yet could almost hear his silent laugh as I finished the final sentences, "I can't go on, I'll go on."