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Molloy

by Samuel Beckett, Patrick Bowles (Translator)

4.11 of 5 stars 4.11 · rating details · 1,675 ratings · 125 reviews

Molloy, the first of the three masterpieces which constitute Samuel Beckett’s famous trilogy, appeared in French in 1951, followed seven months later by Malone Dies (Malone meurt) and two years later by The Unnamable (L’Innommable). Few works of contemporary literature have been so universally acclaimed as central to their time and to our understanding of the human experie...more

Paperback, 241 pages

Published January 12th 1994 by Grove Press (first published 1951)

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Aug 23, 2012 Fionnuala rated it 5 of 5 stars

I thought a lot while I was reading this. I thought about birth and death, the body and ageing, fathers and sons, mothers and nature, duty and freedom. I believe that a book that makes me think is a great book. Full stop.

Some interesting quotes:
pinpointing one of the interesting dilemmas about writing autobiography: "...that must again be unknown to me which is no longer so and that again fondly believed, which then I fondly believed, at my setting out. And if I occasionally break this rule, it...more

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Jan 10, 2013 Sean rated it 4 of 5 stars

All I know is what the words know.

Molloy, the man, is a sexually ambiguous homeless wanderer with mother issues. Notwithstanding his lack of interest in sex, he is keenly tuned to the sensual. He is partially educated in a formal sense, while a little more so in an informal one. He also has a bad leg and uses crutches, yet somehow manages to ride a bicycle. Molloy is struggling and, as a reader, one participates in this struggle.

I wandered in my mind, slowly, noting every detail of the labyri

...more

All I know is what the words know.

I wandered in my mind, slowly, noting every detail of the labyrinth, its paths familiar as those of my garden and yet ever new, as empty as the heart could wish or alive with strange encounters.

Molloy, the book, is a labyrinth. It's divided into two parts. The first section is narrated by Molloy himself. The second section, which starts about halfway through the book, is narrated by someone else. I won't say who it is because that's part of the fun. I think it's useful to know about this shift in narration before reading the book because Molloy's narration tried my patience at times. It's not so much that he is unreliable as he is confusing and easily distracted. Ah, but perhaps that's the point, Beckett, you sly old dog! Anyway, I had just about had my fill of Molloy when along came the second part of the book and rescued me from the mental quagmire I felt I'd stepped into. Or did it. I would be lying if I said I didn't go back to the beginning when I got to the end. Damn you, Beckett. Prior to reaching the second section I'd had my doubts about continuing on with the rest of the trilogy. I now know that I will, though probably not right away. Why should I? I don't think Molloy would care.

There is no doubt one sometimes meets with strangers who are not entire strangers, through their having played a part in certain cerebral reels.

Beckett is an atmospheric writer. He has a way of placing the reader inside a world entirely of his own making. It could be anywhere...or nowhere. I felt comfortable, yet uncertain of where I was. So far I have found that reading his fiction is a completely different experience from reading his dramatic work. While many of the themes remain the same (existentialism, alienation, isolation, death, interior life, etc.), in his fiction they exist in richer layers, appearing less stark and, to me, more complete, yet still tempered with his well-timed absurd humor. That said, I preferred the shorter fiction of his that I previously read to this novel, but I will reserve forming a more solid opinion of his long-form fiction at least until I finish the Molloy trilogy.(less)

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Apr 30, 2008 Brent Legault rated it 4 of 5 stars

I had this book with me while at the beach. The beach was cold. It was mid-spring and it was New England. I stood and I looked at the sea. The sea looked grey.

First, I put the book in my front-right pants pocket. Then I took it out, transferring it to my right shirt pocket. I then removed it and put it in my left-front pants pocket. I let it sit there for a minute while I measured the waves and then I took it out and again put it into my right-front pants pocket. Then I immediately pulled it out...more

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Sep 07, 2008 Bob rated it 5 of 5 stars

finished Molloy earlier today. One of the strangest books I’ve ever read yet utterly compelling and fascinating. Somehow Beckett tapped down into somewhere in the psyche no one had ever done before, and in a way unique up until that moment. Well, Watt came before I guess. And in easy hindsight we can now say, well, you can see him moving to the perfection of Waiting for Godot. Maybe but that seems both too easy and wrong too. Yes and no. Yes of course but without these earlier works he would nev...more

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May 27, 2013 Henry added it

Shelves: fiction-lateral, fiction-novel

(New York: Grove Press, 1955) - second reading

MOLLOY:

I can't believe it. No, I will not lie, I can easily conceive it. No matter, no matter, let us go on, as if all arose from one and the same weariness, on and on heaping up and up, until there is no room, no light, for any more. (18)

And of that life too I shall tell you perhaps one day, the day I know that when I thought I knew I was merely existing and that passion without form or stations will have devoured me down to the rotting flesh itself...more

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Apr 02, 2013 علی rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: novels

مولوی 1951، بخشی از سه گانه ی "مالون می میرد" و "نام ناپذیر"، سه گانه ای که یکی از مهم ترین اتفاقات ادبی قرن بیستم نامیده شده اند. رمان بصورت تک گویی نوشته شده، نوعی گفتگوی درونی، بصورت دو پاراگراف، اولی حدود دو صفحه، و دومی هشتاد صفحه است. انگار دو شخصیت اصلی با خود سخن می گویند، و در روند قصه، به اسم شناخته می شوند. "مولوی" ولگردی ست در حال مرگ، که در اتاق مادرش زندگی می کند و مشغول تهیه ی یک لیست وداع است. او سفری با دوچرخه در سرزمین های ناشناخته را روایت می کند که پیش از رسیدن به این اتاق و...more مولوی 1951، بخشی از سه گانه ی "مالون می میرد" و "نام ناپذیر"، سه گانه ای که یکی از مهم ترین اتفاقات ادبی قرن بیستم نامیده شده اند. رمان بصورت تک گویی نوشته شده، نوعی گفتگوی درونی، بصورت دو پاراگراف، اولی حدود دو صفحه، و دومی هشتاد صفحه است. انگار دو شخصیت اصلی با خود سخن می گویند، و در روند قصه، به اسم شناخته می شوند. "مولوی" ولگردی ست در حال مرگ، که در اتاق مادرش زندگی می کند و مشغول تهیه ی یک لیست وداع است. او سفری با دوچرخه در سرزمین های ناشناخته را روایت می کند که پیش از رسیدن به این اتاق و مادرش، داشته، جایی بی جهت دستگیر شده و بی دلیل آزاد شده است. در این "گذر" با مرد مسن عجیب و غریبی عصا به دست، با یک پلیس، یک فعال امور خیریه، زنی که سگش را زیر دوچرخه گرفته و کشته و... آشنا می شود. جایی هم عاشق می شود (روت یا شاید ادیت!)، دوچرخه را رها می کند و به سمتی می رود، و به مرد جوان مسنی بر می خورد که در بیشه زندگی می کرده و با باد سختی که به کله اش خورده، کشته شده، و در انتها کسی او را به این اتاق آورده است. در حین روایت مولوی، یک کارآگاه شخصی به نام ژاک موران می گوید رییسش، شخص مرموزی به نام یودی، او را مامور تعقیب مولوی کرده است. او پسرش ژاک را دنبال دوچرخه می فرستد. مردی او را می کشد و جسدش را در جنگل مخفی می کند. موران شروع می کند به سوالات عجیب و غریب مذهبی، انگار دیوانه شده و صدایی در درون او، اعمالش را کنترل می کند، صدایی که او را به نوشتن این جملات واداشته؛ "نیمه شب است و باران به پنجره می کوبد. نیمه شب نبود، و باران نمی آمد". گاه چنین بنظر می آید که شخصیت مولوی نیز، ساخته ی صدای درون موران است.

در مورد "تیاتر ابزورد" اینجا را بخوانید
http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_...
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Jan 29, 2013 Calla rated it 4 of 5 stars

One of the most interesting books I have ever read, it isn't a book that you read for fun/light reading. It is a novel unlike any I have ever read because its true purpose is not the plot conveyed, as it is with most books, but rather it is about the language play within the text. As a meta-language piece it is profoundly innovative and interesting. The inter-play between french and english is in and of itself interesting, and the way that our given language relates to our self and the self that...more

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Jan 13, 2013 Mike rated it 4 of 5 stars

Motivated to read by Anecdotal Evidence article.
http://evidenceanecdotal.blogspot.com...

FRIDAY, JANUARY 11, 2013
`The Heart Beats, and What a Beat'
Elberry comments on Thursday’s post with a choice selection from Beckett’s Molloy:

“And I should be sorry to give a wrong idea of my health which, if it was not exactly rude, to the extent of my bursting with it, was at bottom of an incredible robustness. For otherwise how could I have reached the enormous age I have reached. Thanks to moral qualities?...more

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Jul 12, 2012 Nicolas Mertens rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

If you like Dostoevsky and James Joyce, than this will probably make you feel a tingle of literary glee. I certainly enjoyed this book, despite its being incredibly challenging.

*I do discuss some things in the book and give some quotes, but its not quite what I would call a spoiler*

The first part is three paragraphs and 100 pages (more or less based on your edition), so you can't put it down...because there isn't a spot that is confortable to put it down. The second part has paragraph breaks an...more

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Aug 29, 2011 Zach rated it 4 of 5 stars

Molloy is a book of little moments and large discomfort. On the whole, I'm not sure what to make of it, though judging by the number of tabs I used to mark passages that I like, I enjoyed myself along the way. The discomfort comes from the nature of the two narrators who, to me, remain separate though the case could be made for their sameness. The first, Molloy himself, is a dirty and destitute man, a creature of muck, his thoughts as stuttering as his crippled walk. The second, Moran, is an ove...more

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May 13, 2011 Kevin rated it 5 of 5 stars

I just finished Molloy yesterday, and am eagerly moving on to the next two books in Beckett's trilogy (Malone Dies, and The Unnameable). This is my second go at the trilogy, or thirteenth depending on how you count false starts. The many years have made a difference.
I think Molloy is a book you have to be ready for in some important way--at least this is true for me. The style is daunting --one 87 page paragraph; a sharp break in scene and story, related only tenuously. I understand why some fi...more
I just finished Molloy yesterday, and am eagerly moving on to the next two books in Beckett's trilogy (Malone Dies, and The Unnameable). This is my second go at the trilogy, or thirteenth depending on how you count false starts. The many years have made a difference.
I think Molloy is a book you have to be ready for in some important way--at least this is true for me. The style is daunting --one 87 page paragraph; a sharp break in scene and story, related only tenuously. I understand why some find it unpalatable.
I think the novel is great because it uses the conventions of the novel, the expectations we have of a novel, to present reality in a whole new way. It is a dark vision, but the way he achieves it is spectacular.
Some critics speculate that Molloy, the itinerant vagrant of part I, and Moran, the hapless and vicious investigator of part II, are one and the same. I disagree. As MG stated in her excellent review, these characters are best seen as two different reactions to the absudity which Beckett assumes, the condition of Man.
By presenting us with characters who bear only a tenuous relation (Molloy and Moran), in a location which unites their destinies (Ballybaba), by returning characters who cross their paths (the murdered man and the one with the stick), and by parallels and mis-cues (Molloy says, 'Maybe I have a son.'), Beckett does what novelists have always done. All of these are standard plot techniques of the novel as we've come to expect it. But in Beckett's case, they are employed to confound "the story", not to explain it. That is his whole point. There are no deeper connections, no rationale, no meaningful explanations. We are left with the arbitrary, stark reality and nothing more--except the strong, but hopeless, desire to see it as some sort of a whole. (Even MG succumbs to the bicycle-of-absurdityanalogy. A brilliant metaphor, really!)
You have to let go a lot of habitual expectations to read and enjoy Beckett; some philosophical, some literary. I know it took me a while to do so; but the result is worth it. The writing is beautiful and effective; masterful, really. And with the help of reviews like MG's, I am ready for more.
P.S. It may help some to realize that the extensive paragraph of part I actually covers scenes on the road, in the town, by the sea, and in the forest. These changes provide convenient places to pause and maybe come up for air, without losing the thread.

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Apr 15, 2011 Alex V. rated it 3 of 5 stars

I've been meaning to read "the trilogy" (Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable) for years with a couple false starts but never managed to get through any of them until now. Molloy is funny in the flattest possible way. Bike tire flat. Like, "the idea of a joke is itself a joke" sort of funny with which you can curl up for a long night of starring at the darkened wall of your empty soul. A little like a pratfall except you get to watch the damage of the fall slowly spread until the faller is even...more I've been meaning to read "the trilogy" (Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable) for years with a couple false starts but never managed to get through any of them until now. Molloy is funny in the flattest possible way. Bike tire flat. Like, "the idea of a joke is itself a joke" sort of funny with which you can curl up for a long night of starring at the darkened wall of your empty soul. A little like a pratfall except you get to watch the damage of the fall slowly spread until the faller is eventually permanently incapacitated. Hilarious!

The thing I am finally getting about Beckett is that stark does not equal harrowing, that tedium does not equal despair, that his drama happens at the comically-enhanced baseline of the non-dramatic. Molloy takes place in essentially two scenes; the first, old man Molloy fretting around on crutches in his mother's apartment, alone (except he is accompanied by the continually pondered absence of his mother) and then the detective out in the dark with the son he despises, ostensibly on assignment searching for Molloy.

Each has a bike that they fail in one way or another to use to get anywhere, each spends a lot of time contemplating buttholes (literally, like Molloy counts his farts one day and the detective gets overly involved in the administering of an enema), and each kills something. Each narrative is a feverish, fleeting interior monologue held together with fear of exposure, petty disgust and the occasional theological question that serves to create little peaks in the otherwise flat, dull fabric of their existential lives.

I tend to masochistically read books like this through the filter of depression; there is a lot of worrying about worrying about worrying and that worrying keeps the worrying from actually doing anything that might cause anyone any worry, and that atrophy in turn is worrisome, but I suppose a book this introverted is more a mirror than it is a window, and you are going to see in it whatever you see when you sit too close and too long with your own reflection. The oft quoted closing of

It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.

is the kind of push-me-pull-you meta-narrative that excites a Beckett nerd ever so much. The marginalia in the copy from the library goes nuts at this point; but, I think the real key sentence comes a couple pages earlier when the detective limps home to check on his dead bees and chickens and says

I skirted the graveyard.

That's the ticket! Skirt that graveyard! You should get on that bike and go!
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Dec 11, 2010 Monthly Book Group rated it 2 of 5 stars

Most found this book totally irritating and frustrating – just completely aggravating - and one reader had vowed never to read Beckett again. The book was not hateful, but it was repetitive and rambling, with no beginning or end, and nothing achieved. Its lack of structure meant it was very difficult to read in small chunks – and one member had regularly fallen asleep in trying to read Part 1 at night.

One member, who claimed the eccentricity of always finishing a book once started, found “Mollo...more

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Jul 21, 2010 Adam Floridia rated it 3 of 5 stars

Section 1- Paragraphs? I don't need no stinkin' paragraphs! How about an 84 page stream of consciousness from a seemingly autistic leper who constantly needs to correct his own text because Language can NOT accurately describe reality and all literary conventions NEED to be deconstructed.

Section 2- Impressions upon starting it: Hoorah, paragraphs! Hoorah, short simple sentences. Double Hoorah, there WILL be an explanation of Molloy! Impressions upon finishing it: Boy was I wrong.

Overall- The com...more Section 1- Paragraphs? I don't need no stinkin' paragraphs! How about an 84 page stream of consciousness from a seemingly autistic leper who constantly needs to correct his own text because Language can NOT accurately describe reality and all literary conventions NEED to be deconstructed.

Section 2- Impressions upon starting it: Hoorah, paragraphs! Hoorah, short simple sentences. Double Hoorah, there WILL be an explanation of Molloy! Impressions upon finishing it: Boy was I wrong.

Overall- The complete lack of meaning, two fruitless journeys, and increasing mental and physical deteriorations could be symbolic of life's journey, a journey none of us are meant to understand (perhaps because there is NOTHING to understand). Plot, setting, even characters are inconsequential since we all essentially suffer the same curse of being, which is no more explicable than the dance of honey bees, at the same time both simple and complex. If this is the case, then perhaps "all language is an excess of language" (111). Heck, we can not even explain or control the workings of our own mind--"unfathomable mind, now beacon, now sea" (101). Thus without recourse to understand, we are condemned to be "limply poking about it the garbage saying...This is life" (52). "For to know nothing is nothing, not to want to know anything likewise, but to be beyond knowing anything, to know you are beyond knowing anything, that is when peace enters in, to the soul of the incurious seeker" (59).

Did that make sense? If not, then it's a fitting review. I'm torn because I like the existentialist/absurdist/modernist message, but reading it can be laborious. In fact, because of the message, the labor, I would argue purposefully, does NOT quite pay off. A brilliant example of form reflecting theme, but not the most rewarding read. C'est la vie.

I will continue trudging, crawling, squirming, slithering, and dragging myself when necessary through the remaining sequels.

Final thoughts:
1)I like how this book certainly can be read as cyclical! Molloy-->Moran--Molloy--->Moran etc.
2) If Youdi a symbol of God? You di-->you di--> you deity?
3) Who/what, then, is Gaber?

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Jun 23, 2010 Daniel Stafford rated it 5 of 5 stars

What a book! Seriously…I need to read the next two within this trilogy, for I am now intrigued.

The book has two main characters. First is a vagrant named Molloy who is trying to reach his mother's place. The other is a private detective named Moran who is very obsessive and loathing.

The first part of the book is from Molloy's perspective and is only two paragraphs long, which spans for over 100 pages. In it, his legs change shape, he sucks on stones, he becomes imprisoned and let go, makes resid...more What a book! Seriously…I need to read the next two within this trilogy, for I am now intrigued.

The book has two main characters. First is a vagrant named Molloy who is trying to reach his mother's place. The other is a private detective named Moran who is very obsessive and loathing.

The first part of the book is from Molloy's perspective and is only two paragraphs long, which spans for over 100 pages. In it, his legs change shape, he sucks on stones, he becomes imprisoned and let go, makes residence in a woman's home, et cetera. Molloy's situation is interesting because it seems nearing fantastical. The way he describes his physical condition, it is a wonder that he is alive. However, all of his sufferings (and he does suffer) is looked upon with a ho-hum attitude. Sometimes his observations vacillate between extremes, but his outcome is always such-is-my-life.

Moran's life is strange in of itself, too. He has a son (no wife), he has a housekeeper, he has a large property with bees and hens that he keeps to, and he is devout to his church. Yet, Moran's voice is of a state of anger. Everyone in his life, he sees as being stupid, weak, foolish, and loathsome. Within his description, he is visited by a messenger sent by his employer Youdi (which is an archaic, offensive word for Jew), a figure with an almost godlike reach into Moran's life.

The message from Youdi sends Moran into the wilderness in search of Molloy (as for the reason why, the reader is not informed). Therefore, he searches, and as he does, insanity (due to Moran's obsessive ways?) seemingly sets into his mind, and his reality starts to fall apart. A pain in his leg (much like Molloy's own legs) sets in and turns him cripple. In addition, a few other odd things happen, and nonsensical theological ponderings take place.

I have stated this in other forums, but I do believe much of what Beckett writes about in his plays (and now his fiction) deals with Hell. Though it may not be the fire & brimstone sort that most of Catholicism pines on about. Nevertheless, it seems like a human hell in which the sufferers becomes stuck and are forced to repeat their suffering; what has imprisoned them, and what they have refused to let go of. I believe much of what Beckett writes deals with this side of human nature.

So, in conclusion, it was a fascinating book (and far easier than I thought it would be). And…well…I think Beckett has something Joyce never did: solidity. Where Joyce is the mad(dening) genius, Beckett is the genius machinist.(less)

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Jun 16, 2010 Lostinanovel rated it 4 of 5 stars

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.

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Feb 01, 2010 John rated it 2 of 5 stars

Shelves: literature

This is part of a three book series that I purchased over three years ago (which includes Molloy, Malone Dies, and The Unnamable)of which I just completed the first of the three. Having never read Beckett before, but having heard his many praises I was eager to start. His style is dense with digressions and the narative tone takes some getting used to. Once into the swing of things his distinctive style grows on you, and by the end the multitude of digressions no longer bothered me. This is not...more This is part of a three book series that I purchased over three years ago (which includes Molloy, Malone Dies, and The Unnamable)of which I just completed the first of the three. Having never read Beckett before, but having heard his many praises I was eager to start. His style is dense with digressions and the narative tone takes some getting used to. Once into the swing of things his distinctive style grows on you, and by the end the multitude of digressions no longer bothered me. This is not to say that his style was my particlar flavor preference.
This novel is split into two parts, both of which are told in the first person narative. In the first Molloy, who I think must be somewhat mentally retarded, or perhaps with an occult diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia (or its lesser cousin Schiziod Personality Disorder) is trying to return home to his mother. Along with his clear mental illness he also has physical incapacities which make his journey arduous. The second part is told by Moran, an agent (of what we never are told) who is trying to find/reach Molloy. Moran is accompanied by his son, and he proves unerringly to be a overbearing, tyrant of a father.
Upon finishing this work I was left to wonder what the hidden message, or even less abstrusely what the main plot was telling me. Overall I was left wanting, and more than a bit confused. I continue to hope that the reason for this is that it was translated from French. I have little doubt that some esoteric comperative literature undergraduate could run in wild circles extolling this books great merit, but unfortunately I can't, having not found it.
My consolation prize is that concurrent with my reading of Molloy, I was also enjoying a New York Review Of Books article on Nabokov (Flashes of Flora by John Lanchester dated 17Dec09). In this review of a soon to be released, partly finished Nabokov work Lanchester (himself referencing Alan Bennett) makes the point that there are authors that have readers, and authors that have fans. His reason for pointing this out was his belief that Nabokov has fans not readers.
Amongst the authors who have readers he cites Evelyn Waugh, Eliot, and Edith Warton. Along with Nabokov, those who have fans include Anthony Powell, Henry Green, James Joyce, and Gertrude Stein. Having read Joyce and Green amongst the list of those with fans, and having realized fairly early on that I am not one of the fans, I would have to add Beckett to this list. For me, not unpalatable enough to not read the remaining two novels of the three book compendium, but almost assuredly not likable enough to purchase any others of his voluminous collection.(less)

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Aug 29, 2009 Jeff rated it 5 of 5 stars Recommends it for: lovers of metafiction & people who do NOT require much plot

Shelves: top-shelf

i LOVED Molloy but haven't been able to get myself past the first 20pp of Malone Dies and i doubt i'll ever read The Unnameable. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe there's something objectionable about the 2nd piece of this trilogy. Maybe you will yell at me if i say it is too bleak, too cerebral, too divorced from life, whereas Molloy contains some playfulness, some vivacity, some direct connection to the novel proper.

"I would recommend this book to lovers of metafiction & people...more

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Mar 19, 2013 Jeff rated it 4 of 5 stars

It's difficult to write a review. No it isn't. What's true is that two nights ago a dog bit my hand. This is how it happened. I don't want to tell how it happened. It was St. Patty's Day and, avoiding the drunk tarts and jocks on South Street, I went home to my family (in a town I don't remember the name of) and had corn beef and mashed potatoes. My little dog got into a fight with my Auntie's dog and when I pulled them apart, I got a nice chunk bit from my arse. Which was really my hand. So it'...more

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Jun 23, 2010 Jim rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: all-time-greats, 20th-century-lit

Little did I know when I started this book on Sunday that it would loom so large in my mind. (I had started several times before, but I wasn't ready for it until now.)

The narrative is divided into two roughly equal parts, of which the first is incomparably better. It follows the peregrinations of one Molloy as he lives the life of a lowly, semi-demented (but not entirely) derelict in some Irish market town, possibly called Bally. The first paragraph is roughly normal in size; the second one run...more Little did I know when I started this book on Sunday that it would loom so large in my mind. (I had started several times before, but I wasn't ready for it until now.)

The narrative is divided into two roughly equal parts, of which the first is incomparably better. It follows the peregrinations of one Molloy as he lives the life of a lowly, semi-demented (but not entirely) derelict in some Irish market town, possibly called Bally. The first paragraph is roughly normal in size; the second one runs for approximately a hundred pages. As for Molloy himself, he is a gentle creature (except when he murders a charcoal-burner in the countryside) who is the man described by King Lear:

Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
forked animal as thou art. (King Lear, Act III, Scene 4)

The first person narrator is in considerable pain as he moves aimlessly through the countryside:

My progress suffered, from this state of affairs, and from the slow and painful progress it had always been, whatever may have been said to the contrary, was changed, saving your presence, to a veritable calvary, with no limit to its stations and no hope of crucifixion, though I say it myself, and no Simon, reduced me to frequent halts.

The second part of Molloy introduces a new character in a different milieu, a bourgeois investigator who lives in a home with his son and housekeeper, a few hens, and a beehive. He communicates with a remote figure whom we never see called Youdi (Yahweh?) through a messenger named Gaber (Gabriel?). He is to travel with his son (Abraham and Isaac?) to the town of Bally and find Molloy.

Moran sets out in the middle of the night, walking with his son, whom, like everyone he meets, he mistreats. In the months it takes to walk to Bally (why walk?), his son runs away from him; and he begins to resemble Molloy in the increasing decrepitude of his legs and the growing raggediness of his clothing. Eventually, he meets up with Gaber just outside of Bally where he is told (from Youdi) to return home. Instanter.

I have not read any Samuel Beckett since reading three or four of his plays years ago, but I think I shall finish reading the trilogy of Molloy, Malone Dies, and The Unnamable. And then there are the other novels. I think, as the Claude Raines's Vichy inspector says at the end of Casablanca, I think this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.(less)

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Sep 11, 2011 Jamie Bradway rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: audio

I'm very glad to have gotten in touch with this book again. I last met it 20-odd years ago after I'd performed in Beckett's Waiting for Godot in college. I had to immerse myself in the rest of his writings for a period of months.

Despite that, I could recall no details of Molloy. The 20-year-old version of myself didn't get it, I think. Not that I entirely do today, but it has some heft to it now.

The book is divided into two sections. First, Molloy rambling, lost intellectually, emotionally, and...more

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Dec 16, 2010 Slávek Rydval rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: irish-authors, books-i-love, read-2010

Po prvních přibližně deseti stranách jsem chtěl knihu odložit. Ne odložit, odhodit. No, dobrá, vyhodit. Co to je, tohle? říkal jsem si. Jenže poté to všechno začalo dávat smysl. Pokud tedy Molloy nějaký smysl dává. Ne, asi nedává. Vlastně, měli byste si nalézt ten svůj. Tohle totiž není novela, jak je možné znát z jiných případů. (Zde jde prý dokonce o antinovelu, ale to nechme akademikům, my si chceme hlavně číst.) Při čtení dostáváte často záchvaty zuřivosti, potřeby souhlasit nebo pocit nutno...more

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Jan 15, 2012 Emmett rated it 4 of 5 stars

I'm re-reading this b/c I read the trilogy a decade ago and was ultimately underwhelmed by it...in the interim I've become a huge Beckett fan largely b/c of many of his later, shorter prose texts (How It Is, The Lost Ones, First Love, etc.), which has made me suspicious of claims for the trilogy as Beckett's masterwork. As of being 75% done, I must say my original feelings are confirmed. There are tons of brilliant passages, but also some fairly laborious, explicit "philosophical" moments that f...more

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Mar 12, 2013 Nicholas rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction

This was quite difficult to get into,as the first half of the book is devoid of paragraphs,and is written in a first person stream of consciousness style that roams wildly about,expressing the deteriorated rambling and obsessive mind of the main protagonist.At times the authors thoughts on the actual writing process becomes evident which adds to the surreal existential quality.The second half is more traditionally structured as it charts the mental deterioration of the second main character who...more

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Jan 13, 2010 Bondama rated it 5 of 5 stars

I love Samuel Beckett -- He was one of the most unique writers ever to write in the (sort of) English language. Most of us are more familiar with his plays, "Waiting for Godot," "Endgame," and so on.

But Molloy is different. It's a wandering, wondrous jewel of a book. There are sections that have stayed with me since I first came across this book, at least twenty years ago. And I assume they will stay.

Please don't let the "strangeness" of parts of this book turn you off. Dig deep, and find the j...more

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Nov 20, 2012 Alnoory. rated it 4 of 5 stars

Molloy is the first book in one of the most important trilogies twentieth century, complete with Malone Dies and The Unnamable. The first thing that catches the attention of Molloy are interior
monologues of the protagonists of the two parts of the novel, Molloy and Moran Jacques.

It is a rather dry reading, but still interesting. Beckett is able to fill eight pages only with the issue of Molloy and not to repeat. You can not stop reading about it. Samuel expresses loneliness and meaninglessness...more

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Apr 08, 2012 Philip Lane rated it 4 of 5 stars

This carried me along even though I was a bit put off by the lack of paragraphs in the first part. I really liked the interior dialogue and the idea of the characters coming to terms with themselves even though they are unsure who they are. I find this approach fascinating. At the same time there was enough external and in many ways humerous action to lighten the atmosphere. Good twist at the end which had me reacting a bit like watching 6th Sense for the first time. I am looking forward to read...more

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Apr 15, 2013 Paulina rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

3.5 en realidad.

Pasar la primera mitad fue todo un reto y me demoré un par de días. Pero la segunda parte es mucho más fácil de leer (gracias a que Beckett comienza a usar puntos aparte y diferenciar los párrafos) y resulta, incluso, fascinante.

No es la maravilla que pintan que es. Es un libro original, tedioso a veces, nunca gracioso que es otra opinión que existe. No me hizo pensar en la banalidad del ser ni en la muerte ni en la vida ni en la enfermedad ni en la vejez (La usuario Fionnula pa...more

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Dec 23, 2012 RK-ique rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: fiction

Molloy. It’s all inside his head. Schizophrenic. Homicidal. Brutal. Naïve. Innocent.
As with most of Beckett’s character, Molloy is obsessed with fecal matter. Along with the rest of human kind, he is rotting from the inside out. So, for Beckett, are we all mad: potential murderers and capable of brutalizing our children.

The entire book is a memory of memories. Molloy thinks about times when he was thinking about a time when he was thinking about another time. He moves with the aid of crutches...more

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Jun 28, 2011 Valerie rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: audio-read

Was definitely a struggle to conquer at first, but glad I kept butting my head against it because on a particular night of alertness and lucidity it finally clicked with me that I had become enough accustomed to the author's style that I began to experience an onslaught of gems tumbling one after another. Hilarious and horrifying at once. Sanity in insanity. A couple examples:

"For in me there have always been two fools, among others, one asking nothing better than to stay where he is and the oth...more

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About Samuel Beckett

Samuel Barclay Beckett was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, and poet, who lived in France for most of his adult life. He wrote in both English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black comedy and gallows humour.

Beckett is widely regarded as among the most influential writers of the 20th century. Strongly influenced...more

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Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable: A Trilogy

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“Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.” — 56 people liked it

“Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.” — 21 people liked it

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