Jeremy's Reviews > Three Novels: Molloy / Malone Dies / The Unnamable

Three Novels by Samuel Beckett
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's review
May 08, 2012

it was amazing
bookshelves: irish-literature

Beckett writes from the edge. The voices (and they seem more like voices then characters) that narrate these books are those of wretches occupying some dying twilight world of their own dwindling consciousness, faced with their own immanent dissolution. They are literally just on this side of aphasia and death. The prose in each of these is singular. You could recognize one of Beckett's sentences in a heartbeat. There is, to my knowledge, just no one else who writes like this, or who would want to try. These three novels are books of sentences. Not chapters, not sections, not paragraphs, but of one skittering clause chasing after another in this dark, staccato style that seems to refuse any progression. They babble, repeat and curl back into themselves with the sort of logic you usually only here from sad, raving homeless people. Yet they are also weirdly affirming in spite of their darkness, you get the sense that these voices are forever circling the void, merely perpetuating themselves by some act of sheer will that is as futile as it is inevitable. What do you do when you can't go on? You go on.
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Comments (showing 1-2 of 2) (2 new)

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CandyStripedBlue "wretches occupying some dying twilight world of their own dwindling consciousness"

Wow. Seems like something Beckett wrote himself. Great job. Great review.

Jeremy aww thanks

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