The short stories with a hard-to-define style give the feeling that if you don't pay attention for a moment, they will slip away from between your teeth, just like the words scribbled on paper in the dark magically piecing together on their own. Oh, it reminds me a bit of the novels generated by AI programs. All kinds of people, clothed and unclothed, have or don't have intersections in imaginable and unimaginable spaces. Names appear out of thin air, and there are no walls, so there is no such thing as breaking the fourth wall. "The ground was covered with snow the last time you went out. Now, lying in the dark, you stood beside the threshold that morning and gently closed the door behind you." "The dryness on the surface reduces the beauty of the naked body, the skin turns gray, and skin-to-skin contact becomes a rubbing like nettles." "People will go there and quietly stuff me into his body. My memories and dreams, in his still-living body, haven't I already been there, spreading like guilt all along? Isn't it there, my night and my absence, in the cell of this dying man, …"

This edition presents an interesting perspective, suggesting that these works should be regarded as a coherent and summatory body of work that showcases Beckett's development. It's a tempting idea, but perhaps it doesn't fully capture the essence of his split-up and fragmented style. Beckett himself was opposed to the idea of considering the so-called Trilogy, or rather anti-Trilogy, as a collection.

It seems that he had a general sense of what he was aiming for from the beginning. His later, more abstract tales could potentially be simplified versions of his earlier, more grounded urban stories. From the start, and especially from the 40s onwards, the prose is meticulously crafted yet so alien that it's nearly impossible to find any comparable works. In comparison, all of his contemporaries and successors seem rather naive.

Only a few tales might fall slightly short. It's said that he considered these to be his "finest and most important work." Their brevity allowed him to achieve a concise precision, and their foreign abstractness added a mysterious veil, making it difficult to object to them in any way. This is in contrast to the plays he wrote between the 60s and 80s, which at times could verge on parodically goofy levels of stereotypical high-art pretensions.

Overall, Beckett's works remain a complex and fascinating exploration of the human condition, defying easy categorization and leaving a lasting impact on the literary world.

Some of his best works are truly remarkable.

They include the essential late-period Beckett pieces such as "Fizzles", "Lost Ones", "Lessness", and "Stirrings Still".

These works展示了Beckett独特的创作风格和深刻的思想内涵.

On the other hand, the very early stuff of his is mostly characterized by Joyce-worship.

It seems that in his early days, he was greatly influenced by Joyce's writing style and techniques.

However, as he developed as a writer, he gradually found his own voice and created some of the most important works in modern literature.

Overall, his body of work is a rich and diverse collection that continues to inspire and challenge readers today.

The summer of 3.5.

I found myself in a rather peculiar situation regarding this book. I felt an almost irresistible urge to award it a score of 4. Why, you might ask? Well, it's because it's Beckett. His name alone carries a certain weight and reputation in the literary world.

However, as much as I respect and admire Beckett, I have to admit that this particular work never truly reaches the lofty heights of his more renowned dramatic pieces. There's something lacking, a certain spark or brilliance that fails to fully ignite.

It's not that the book is bad by any means. It still has its moments and showcases Beckett's unique style and perspective. But when compared to his masterpieces in the realm of drama, it just doesn't quite measure up.

Nevertheless, it's still a worthy addition to any Beckett enthusiast's collection, and it offers a glimpse into the mind of a literary giant.