Watt, by Samuel Beckett
Title: Watt
Author: Samuel Beckett
Publication date: 1953
Edition: Grove Press
# of pages: 214
Source: Local library
Back of the book:
In prose possessed of the radically stripped-down beauty and mordant wit that characterize his work, this early novel by Nobel Prize-winner Samuel Beckett recounts the grotesque and improbable adventures of a fantastically logical Irish servant and his master. Watt is a metaphysical black comedy that, at its core, is rooted in the searing vision that made Beckett one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century.
I didn't find the book nearly that clear-cut, though I enjoyed it.
Back when I was in college, I read Beckett's Waiting for Godot and liked it. I'm not sure why, although it wasn't for a class. Perhaps it was the English majors I was surrounded with (OK, two English majors, but I felt surrounded), or because it was short and certainly because of Lucky's speech, which I never actually managed to memorize. So I looked at a copy of the trilogy Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable. No dice. Worse than Joyce's Ulysses which I also didn't manage to read.
Many years passed. I read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses (on my Palm Pilot!), but not Finnegan's Wake. Two years ago, I saw two excellent stage performances of Beckett's work. The stage performances, by the Gare St Lazare Players, were of First Love (a short story, performed in its entirety), and Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable (about one hour for each book). The Gare St Lazare Players actually consists of the actor Conor Lovett and his wife Judy who directs. The stages were nearly bare and the performances were spell-binding.
I hadn't managed to read the Molloy trilogy before but after three hours of Lovett's solo performance, I got it out of the library and tried again. Still no dice. Lovett didn't actually perform the three novels in their entirety and there was still not enough action to keep me going. Too much…well, I'm not sure what exactly but not enough action and plot. I wasn't able to make myself read enough to figure out how much was excerpted or even if it was multiple selections per book.
Finally, I was assigned Watt for this group. After reading it, I saw a movie version of Waiting for Godot, and even more recently a live performance. Not only was I captivated, I realized that the key for me was hearing instead of reading; theatre was obviously Beckett's medium. Watt was an "assignment", so I had to read it, but with the trilogy performances in my mind, I "heard" more of the rhythm and rhyming. I'd also read more literary and experimental writing. Watt stretched my patience but was manageably short, with enough plot to provide a little suspense and encourage me to keep reading.
Here are three sentences from a 20-page paragraph in the first of four chapters.
The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps and the yelps. And the poor old lousy old earth, my earth and my father's and my mother's and my father's father's and my mother's mother's and my father's mother's and my mother's father's and my father's mother's father's and my mother's father's mother's and my father's mother's mother's and my mother's father's father's and my father's father's mother's and my mother's mother's father's and my father's father's father's and my mother's mother's mother's and other people's fathers' and mothers' and fathers' fathers' and mothers' mothers' and fathers' mothers' and mothers' fathers' and fathers' mothers' fathers' and mothers' fathers' mothers' and fathers' mothers' mothers' and mothers' fathers' fathers' and fathers' fathers' mothers' and mothers' mothers' fathers' and fathers' fathers' fathers' and mothers' mothers' mothers'. An excrement.
The first sentence is obviously a poem, the second a joke and the third is the punch line. (And all those apostrophes are in their proper places.) Watt is experimental writing and these sentences are typical, in particular the permutations, all the possible orderings of various words. There is narrative but there is also poetry, both rhyming and rhythm. There is character development and a very slender plot, but the sort of text I quoted above calls out for oral presentation, with vocal shading to keep the pace going. And a big pause before a deadpan "An excrement." and another pause. That's how I hear it, anyway.
Last year, I reviewed Sartre's Nausea for this project, and explored (lightly) the philosophy of existentialism, which is clearly a basis for Waiting for Godot. Watt has existential elements but seems to me to be much more about language. Unlike Beckett's later work, which was written in French and translated to English, this book was written in English to begin with. I frankly assumed that a translation was impossible, but a French version was published in 1968, 15 years after the original English publication. Wikipedia quotes Beckett as claiming that Watt was an exercise written while waiting for World War II to end. While obviously an early work (or perhaps because it is an early work), I found it to be approachable and worth reading.
The footnote on the 10 pages of Addenda at the end of the book says "The following precious and illuminating material should be carefully studied. Only fatigue and disgust prevented its incorporation." I only skimmed it.
I think everyone should see some Beckett performed. I'm not at all sure that you need to read this book before you die, though I am glad that I did.
Author: Samuel Beckett
Publication date: 1953
Edition: Grove Press
# of pages: 214
Source: Local library
Back of the book:
In prose possessed of the radically stripped-down beauty and mordant wit that characterize his work, this early novel by Nobel Prize-winner Samuel Beckett recounts the grotesque and improbable adventures of a fantastically logical Irish servant and his master. Watt is a metaphysical black comedy that, at its core, is rooted in the searing vision that made Beckett one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century.
I didn't find the book nearly that clear-cut, though I enjoyed it.
Back when I was in college, I read Beckett's Waiting for Godot and liked it. I'm not sure why, although it wasn't for a class. Perhaps it was the English majors I was surrounded with (OK, two English majors, but I felt surrounded), or because it was short and certainly because of Lucky's speech, which I never actually managed to memorize. So I looked at a copy of the trilogy Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable. No dice. Worse than Joyce's Ulysses which I also didn't manage to read.
Many years passed. I read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses (on my Palm Pilot!), but not Finnegan's Wake. Two years ago, I saw two excellent stage performances of Beckett's work. The stage performances, by the Gare St Lazare Players, were of First Love (a short story, performed in its entirety), and Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable (about one hour for each book). The Gare St Lazare Players actually consists of the actor Conor Lovett and his wife Judy who directs. The stages were nearly bare and the performances were spell-binding.
I hadn't managed to read the Molloy trilogy before but after three hours of Lovett's solo performance, I got it out of the library and tried again. Still no dice. Lovett didn't actually perform the three novels in their entirety and there was still not enough action to keep me going. Too much…well, I'm not sure what exactly but not enough action and plot. I wasn't able to make myself read enough to figure out how much was excerpted or even if it was multiple selections per book.
Finally, I was assigned Watt for this group. After reading it, I saw a movie version of Waiting for Godot, and even more recently a live performance. Not only was I captivated, I realized that the key for me was hearing instead of reading; theatre was obviously Beckett's medium. Watt was an "assignment", so I had to read it, but with the trilogy performances in my mind, I "heard" more of the rhythm and rhyming. I'd also read more literary and experimental writing. Watt stretched my patience but was manageably short, with enough plot to provide a little suspense and encourage me to keep reading.
Here are three sentences from a 20-page paragraph in the first of four chapters.
The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps and the yelps. And the poor old lousy old earth, my earth and my father's and my mother's and my father's father's and my mother's mother's and my father's mother's and my mother's father's and my father's mother's father's and my mother's father's mother's and my father's mother's mother's and my mother's father's father's and my father's father's mother's and my mother's mother's father's and my father's father's father's and my mother's mother's mother's and other people's fathers' and mothers' and fathers' fathers' and mothers' mothers' and fathers' mothers' and mothers' fathers' and fathers' mothers' fathers' and mothers' fathers' mothers' and fathers' mothers' mothers' and mothers' fathers' fathers' and fathers' fathers' mothers' and mothers' mothers' fathers' and fathers' fathers' fathers' and mothers' mothers' mothers'. An excrement.
The first sentence is obviously a poem, the second a joke and the third is the punch line. (And all those apostrophes are in their proper places.) Watt is experimental writing and these sentences are typical, in particular the permutations, all the possible orderings of various words. There is narrative but there is also poetry, both rhyming and rhythm. There is character development and a very slender plot, but the sort of text I quoted above calls out for oral presentation, with vocal shading to keep the pace going. And a big pause before a deadpan "An excrement." and another pause. That's how I hear it, anyway.
Last year, I reviewed Sartre's Nausea for this project, and explored (lightly) the philosophy of existentialism, which is clearly a basis for Waiting for Godot. Watt has existential elements but seems to me to be much more about language. Unlike Beckett's later work, which was written in French and translated to English, this book was written in English to begin with. I frankly assumed that a translation was impossible, but a French version was published in 1968, 15 years after the original English publication. Wikipedia quotes Beckett as claiming that Watt was an exercise written while waiting for World War II to end. While obviously an early work (or perhaps because it is an early work), I found it to be approachable and worth reading.
The footnote on the 10 pages of Addenda at the end of the book says "The following precious and illuminating material should be carefully studied. Only fatigue and disgust prevented its incorporation." I only skimmed it.
I think everyone should see some Beckett performed. I'm not at all sure that you need to read this book before you die, though I am glad that I did.