Archive for the ‘Beckett–Murphy’ Category


Thursday, September 18th, 2008

I’d like to quote the final chapter of Murphy in its entirety.  But I guess that’d be nuts.  And you wouldn’t really read it, would you?   It is in these final few pages that Beckett finally comes around to writing seriously about the image that got him started on the book in the first place—kites […]

War of the words

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

Murphy isn’t as poetic as, say, Molloy.  I was a bit disappointed to discover that.  There is little of the bleakness (other than maybe the down and outness of Murphy’s London), the romantic gloom of blasted heaths, rainy ditches and lonesome trees on country roads.  It’s a comedy, so I tried to relax, not sweat […]

Beckett as beach read

Wednesday, September 17th, 2008

Did you know that scholars, rummaging around in the papers of Beckett’s dusty Paris estate, recently discovered what might be a long-lost play?  A long suspected, lost masterwork.  It consists of 23 blank pages that magnificently capture the starkness and emptiness of modern life.  The first page, alone, scholars say, is genius.  It’s true.  I […]