29.5.09

Marjorie Perloff on Samuel Beckett

A selection of essays by the distinguished writer and critic
Samuel Beckett, 1969. Ink on board. Artist: Edmund Valtman. Image courtesy of J. Arthur Wood, Jr.
'Marjorie Perloff teaches courses and writes on twentieth and now twenty-first century poetry and poetics, both Anglo-American and from a Comparatist perspective, as well as on intermedia and the visual arts. She is Professor Emerita of English at Stanford University and currently Scholar-in-Residence at the University of Southern California.'


Marjorie Perloff, poetry critic and professor emerita at Standford University, has written a review of Samuel Beckett's Letters for Bookforum.com. During the course of her career, Perloff has specialized in modernist poetry, fiction and avant-garde literature; she has also often drawn upon the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein, and is the author of Wittgenstein's Ladder: Poetic Language and the Strangeness of the Ordinary. But, for the time being at least, it's her writing on Beckett that interests me most.

Steve Mitchelmore has drawn attention to one of Perloff's essays on Beckett, which is now available online at her official website. There is a wealth of critical writing available at the site, originally published in a wide range of collections and academic journals, alongside a selection of interviews and multimedia features. So, to cut to the point: I've done some rudimentary browsing, and managed to snag some of her critical analyses of Beckett's work, all freely available for your perusal:
28.5.09

Slavoj Žižek on life, happiness and Hegel

Lacanian cultural theorist interviewed by The Guardian
Slavoj Žižek
'"If you could edit your past, what would you change?"
"My birth. I agree with Sophocles: the greatest luck is not to have been born - but, as the joke goes on, very few people succeed in it."'

Slovenian cultural theorist Slavoj Žižek was interviewed by The Guardian Weekend Magazine in August of last year. The short survey of questions cuts right to the heart of things, briefly touching upon topics from teaching to communism to sex, and reveals what are sometimes fairly unsavoury answers. I'm ambivalent about Žižek and his work at the best of times; and so, I can't quite work out whether the interview presents us with a deeply ironic virtuoso, or a consummate hack. Yet despite the flaws and ommissions of his writing, as a character he plays the entertainer convincingly enough.

Whatever your opinion happens to be, whether you love him or hate him, you can read his answers at Lacan.com
27.5.09

Alain Badiou on discovering Beckett

French philosopher relates the influence of Samuel Beckett on his life and work
French philosopher Alain Badiou. Photograph by Voranc Vogel
From Alain Badiou, 'On Beckett' (edited by Nina Power and Alberto Toscano):
'I discovered the work of Beckett in the mid-fifties. It was a real encounter, a subjective blow of sorts that left an indelible mark. So that forty years later, I can say, with Rimbaud: "I'm here, I'm always there" [j'y suis, j'y suis toujours]. This is the principal task of youth: to encounter the incalculable, and thereby to convince oneself, against the disillusioned, that the thesis "nothing is, nothing is valuable" is both false and oppressive.


'But youth is also that fragment of existence when one easily imagines oneself to be quite singular, when really what one is thinking or doing is what will later be retained as the typical trait of a generation. Being young is a source of power, a time of decisive encounters, but these are strained by their all too easy capture by repetition and imitation. Thought only subtracts itself from the spirit of the age by means of a constant and delicate labour. It is easy to want to change the world - in youth these seems the least that one could do. It is more difficult to notice the fact that this very wish could end up as the material for the forms of perpetuation of this very world. This is why all youth, as stirring as its promise may be, is always also the youth of a "young cretin". Bearing this in mind, in later years, keeps us from nostalgia.


'When I discovered Beckett, some years after the beginning of his French oeuvre (that is, around 1956), I was a complete and total Sartrean, though I was possessed by a question whose importance I thought I had personally discovered to have been underestimated by Sartre. I had yet to realise that it was already, and was going to be for a long while, the abiding obsession of my generation and of the ones to follow: the question of language. From such a makeshift observatory, I could only see in Beckett what everybody else did. A writer of the absurd, of despair, of empty skies, of also a 'modern' writer, in that the destiny of writing, the relationship between the endless recapitulation of speech and the original silence - the simultaneously sublime and derisory function of words - was entirely captured by the prose at a distant remove from any realist or representational intention. In such 'modern' writing, fiction is both the appearance of a story and the reality of a reflection on the work of the writer, on its misery and its grandeur. [...]'

French philosopher Alain Badiou. Photograph by Voranc Vogel
'Basically, my stupidity lay in unquestioningly upholding the caricature which was then - and still is - widespread: a pitiless awareness of the nothingness of sense, extended by the resources of art to cover the nothingness of writing, a nothingness that would be materialised, as it were, by means of increasingly tight and increasingly dense prose pieces that abandoned all narrative principle. The caricature of Beckett meditating upon death and finitude, the dereliction of sick bodies, the waiting in vain for the divine and the derision of any enterprise directed towards others. A Beckett convinced that beyond the obstinacy of words there is nothing but darkness and void.


'It took me many years to rid myself of this stereotype and at last to take Beckett at his word. No, what Beckett offers to thought through his art, theatre, prose, poetry, cinema, radio, television, and criticism, is not this gloomy corporeal immersion into an abandoned existence, into hopeless relinquishment. Neither is it the contrary, as some have tried to argue: farce, derision, a concrete flavour, a "thin Rabelais". Neither existentialism nor a modern baroque. The lesson of Beckett is a lesson in measure, exactitude and courage. That is what I would like to establish in these few pages [...]'

Interview with Thomas Bernhard

From SignandSight
Thomas Bernhard
Werner Wögerbauer met with Austrian author Thomas Bernhard back in 1986, for a candid discussion of his life, work, and other things besides (translated by Nicholas Grindell):
'You get older, things change. Which is why there's no need to worry about a change of theme, because that comes naturally, with the experiences you have. A stupid writer, a stupid painter is always looking for motifs, although all he actually needs is himself, to follow his own life. He always wants to remain the same, but never to write the same. And that's the key, if there's a key at all. But if you approach it like someone selling trousers, and as something to make a living off, then that's what you'll end up doing.'


26.5.09

Simon Critchley reflects on Punk and Nihilism

From an interview with 3:AM Magazine
Simon Critchley
'Punk was the watershed, what took place before seems remote. It’s difficult to relate to progressive rock of the early Seventies, whereas it’s easy to relate to The Clash or whatever. That’s strange, a cultural shift took place and we’re still there on some level.'

3:AM Magazine has interviewed British philosopher Simon Critchley, who shares his thoughts on underground literature, punk, and nihilist philosophy: you can read it here.

James Joyce's 'Ulysses' adapted as graphic novel

Ambitious online project tackles the monolithic modernist masterpiece
'Ulysses Seen' by Robert Berry
'Beginning on Bloomsday (June 16th) 2008, Philadelphia cartoonist Robert Berry takes us on a trip through one of English literature's most challenging and rewarding novels - James Joyce's 'Ulysses' - adapted for comics.

'The adaptation, 'Ulysses "Seen"', will appear exclusively on the web in serialized form and will attempt to interpret the novel in its entirety, though that may take some time.'

ThreeMonkeysOnline have drawn my attention to an ambitious creative project begun back in 2008. American cartoonist Robert Berry is painstakingly adapting James Joyce's masterpiece Ulysses into an online graphic novel. The adaptation not only intends to present the novel in its entirety, a collosal task in itself, but intends to include annotations alongside a reader's guide to the text.

You can follow Berry's progress on the Ulysses Seen website by clicking here. Incidentally, he also maintains a Twitter page, which you can find here.
25.5.09

Paul Auster at Google

A reading from Man in the Dark, followed by questions from the audience

Back in August of last year, American author Paul Auster visited the Google offices in New York to discuss his new book, Man in the Dark. In an online broadcast lasting just over fifty minutes, Auster reads extended passages from the book to an audience, before opening the floor for questions.

Paul Auster is both humble and candid, speaking in a welcoming tone that is just as approachable as his prose. He openly shares some of his experiences of screenwriting, and the differences of his approach to novel-writing. He also discusses the role of chance events and 'wrenching improbability' in his work, and speaks a little of some of the recurrent images and motifs in his novels. But, for me, the highlight was hearing him read his prose aloud. It's wonderfully compelling stuff.

The Observer reviews Samuel Beckett's Letters

Peter Conrad on the first volume of the Nobel Prize Winner's correspondence
Samuel Beckett reading a newspaper. Photograph by Jerry Bauer
'Exiled from Ireland and from his native language, Joyce wrote 'Finnegans Wake' in a punning, polyglot idiom of his own invention. Beckett has his own equivalent to this composite babble. As he travels, he is constantly translating, aware that any word is a dubious, untrustworthy translation of a feeling. The "sensation of taking root" disgusts him and makes him think of a malignant polyp; he deracinates himself by carefully standing aside from whatever language he happens to be using, like an alien intrigued and mystified by the dialect of the tribe.

'He gets through the ordeal of Christmas and New Year in Ireland by giving the occasions their French and German names, Noel and Silvester. A letter written in German declares that it is "difficult, even pointless for me to write in formal English", asks permission "to violate a foreign language" and hopes for a futuristic "literature of the non-word".'

Peter Conrad has written a review of the first volume of Samuel Beckett's Letters in the Observer newspaper.

While it is clear that he admires Beckett's work, and is interested in the writer's life, there is a trace of bemusement for the American editors, who seem 'determined to cram most of [the letters], along with their own prattlingly pedantic commentary, into four bulbous volumes.' I happen to be a great fan of the job the editors have done, and love the exhaustiveness of the commentary; in fact, if I have any complaint at all, it's simply that I find the typeface a little on the small side.

You can read Conrad's article in full by clicking here.
24.5.09

An Inspector Calls at the New Theatre, Cardiff

A new production of the J. B. Priestley play
Stage design of J. B. Priestley's 'An Inspector Calls' (dir. Stephen Daldry)

'When Inspector Goole arrives unexpectedly at the prosperous Birling family home, their peaceful dinner party is shattered by his investigations into the death of a young woman. His startling revelations shake the very foundations of their lives and challenge us all to examine our consciences.'

Yesterday afternoon, I went along to a production of J. B. Priestley's An Inspector Calls, and was unexpectedly surprised by the ambitious stage design. I was familiar with the play as a standard text for school examinations, and remember that the polemical thrust of the narrative could hardly have been less subtle.

An Inspector Calls
forces its way into the polite drawing-room drama of pre-war Britain, and questions comfortable middle-class assumptions of individual freedom and responsibility. One-by-one, attendees of a celebratory evening party are questioned for the part they played in the suicide of one Eva Smith, a convenient polticized emblem of a disenfranchised working class. As the drama unfolds, the inspector is driven to unravel the social causes for her tragic demise - all of which are firmly rooted in the complacent comforts of one bourgeois home.

I can see why An Inspector Calls is considered such a favourite for student analysis, as the narrative is neatly structured by a clear and unambiguous message: a message that manifests itself in every metaphor and inflection in the play. And, I must be honest, it's a message that grows weary and tiring at certain points. But the ambiguous stage design for this recent production, directed by Stephen Daldry, translates Priestley's critique to the set via a series of distinctly memorable images.

Firstly, the play does not take place in a drawing room. Well, not strictly-speaking. The curtain rises on a dilapidated urban street-scene, where children play among scraps of food and random debris; rain filters through the cobbled stones underfoot as we hear laughter and conversation in the centre of the stage. The children, oblivious, occupy themselves with street passers-by, late into the night, while the audience's attention is drawn necessarily towards the well-to-do middle-class home in the centre of the stage. It is, in essence, a confined domestic facade, matching a dollhouse in appearance, and built on an uneasy foundation of poverty and foreboding.

Upon the arrival of the inspector early in the play, the house is opened up to the audience in much the same way as a dollhouse, revealing a cross-section of the one-room interior. As each character reveals the part they played in Eva Smith's death, they are drawn out of the room and onto the street.

Secrets appear to metaphorically spill out of the house and into the public domain, while, simultaneously, characters' privileges and wealth are neatly contextualized in terms of the grim realities of the street. There is a draught in the drawing room that is impossible to ignore, and while the house creaks under the strain of the inspector's scrutiny, each character's realization of responsibility is punctuated by rainfall, fog, street-observers and slips on the cobbles. All-in-all, it was a nice touch, and for me the dollhouse-like structure was undoubtedly the star of the show.

An Inspector Calls will be running at the West End from 22 September to 14 November. You can find out more information at the official website, by clicking here.
22.5.09

Fulcrum: Samuel Beckett as Poet

Special section in the new issue dedicated to Beckett and poetry
Fulcrum (Issue 6): Samuel Beckett as Poet

The current issue of Fulcrum (Number 6) features a special section devoted to Samuel Beckett and poetry. The issue includes critical essays by leading Beckett scholars, including S. E. Gontarski, Chris Ackerley, Marjorie Perloff, Christopher Ricks and Simon Critchley. There are also retrospective pieces by artists who knew Beckett personally, including Avigdor Arikha (who contributes two life drawings of the writer) and his wife, Anne Atik.

I read Jean-Michel Rabaté's contribution to the collection over the weekend and enjoyed it immensely.

A full list of the Beckett-related contents are as follows:
  • Philip Nikolayev, Samuel Beckett’s Poetry: In Place of an Introduction
  • Avigdor Arikha, Two Life Drawings of Samuel Beckett
  • Anne Atik, Beckett’s Thesaurus
  • Samuel Beckett, Ceiling
  • Christopher Ricks, Note on Ceiling
  • Christopher Ricks, Human Wishes and Ceiling
  • S. E. Gontarski, Samuel Beckett’s “Imbedded” Poetry and the Critique of Genre
  • Seán Lawlor, Beckett, MacGreevy and the Stink of Joyce; ‘Sanies I’: being careful not to take a serious view of their accidents
  • David Wheatley, ‘Labours Unfinished’: Beckett’s Mirlitonnades and the Poetics of Incompletion
  • Mark Nixon,“Unutterably Faint”: Beckett’s Late English Poetry
  • Daniel Albright, Beckett’s Poems as Plays
  • Jean-Michel Rabaté, Formal Brilliance and Indeterminate Purport: The Poetry of Beckett’s Philosophemes
  • Simon Critchley, To be or not to be is not the question: Beckett’s Film
  • Chris Ackerley, Fairy-tales and Flagellation: Samuel Beckett’s ‘Sanies II’
  • Marjorie Perloff, “An Image from a Past Life”: Beckett’s Yeatsian Turn
  • Eliot Weinberger, Beckett/Paz
  • Octavio Paz and Eliot Weinberger, Octavio Paz on An Anthology of Mexican Poetry
To find out more about Fulcrum, including how to buy a copy, you can visit their official website by clicking here.
21.5.09

"What's not to get?": Michael Billington on Waiting for Godot

The Guardian theatre critic reviews new Samuel Beckett production
Iain McKellen as Estragon in the UK revival of Samuel Beckett's 'Waiting for Godot'
'I have no problem with the fact that [Waiting for Godot] stars two big box-office names in Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart. But Sean Mathias's production not only includes superfluous Goon Show-type sound effects but also permits its two lead actors to get away with a good deal of showbiz shtick. At times I felt the evening was closer to Neil Simon's The Sunshine Boys, about the reunion of two old vaudevillians, than to Beckett's tragic vision of humanity.'

Michael Billington has written once again on the UK revival of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot. At first glance, his observations celebrate the newfound public acceptance of open-ended theatre; plays that have for so long played to critics and academics are now becoming popular with the public at large. Wonderful! you might say: it's about time! And so it is. But that's not where the article ends, and it's not the happy ending we were hoping for. What Billington gives with one hand, he takes with the other, and it begins to appear that his well-meaning assessment conceals some not-so-well-meaning conservative reservations.

While Billington is willing to accept and venerate the public's interest in 'freedom of choice' concerning the theatre, and the way Waiting for Godot is being embraced by audiences at London's Haymarket, he appears to resist the productions themselves. His article is structured around a surreptitious contradiction. In the case of the Beckett revival, Billington appears to accuse Sean Mathias' direction of pandering to the masses, resorting to 'Goon Show-type sound effects' and wallowing in crass 'showbiz shtick'. Billington resists these aspects of the production by stressing the importance of the text, as written, and of upholding Samuel Beckett's authorial vision.

I think that his review makes an interesting case, but I am also a little bemused that he would feel this way. To begin with, the Beckett Estate, for all their limitations, are the first to admit that there is no definitive reading of Beckett's work. Each production is a kind of rejuvenation, or reinvention, that builds on the reputation of previous productions, and so adds to the richness of the play's long-term cultural significance. Each successive treading of the boards brings something new to the table, emphasizing a different theme or image or idea for the audience to take away with them. There is no right or wrong interpretation, strictly speaking, and to suggest so misses one of the fundamental points of Beckett's ouevre.

Waiting for Godot
is a play that somehow manages to grasp at a 'tragic vision of humanity', but infuses that vision with humour, irony and slapstick. I can relate to Billington's point that there is a 'joy of not getting it' when it comes to open-ended narratives and profound questions, but it's the joyfulness that Billington doesn't seem to get: the joyfulness of getting what's not to get.
20.5.09

Introducing... Franz Kafka

An intelligent and entertaining collaboration
Pages taken from 'Introducing Franz Kafka' by David Zane Mairowitz and Robert Crumb
'I think the first thing to say is that the book is a work of art in its own right. The design of the volume is immediately attractive, and when you open it up, the eye is drawn into a fascinating and complex set of images, showing Crumb's interpretation of life in early 20th century Prague.'

Over at A Common Reader, Tom C has posted an enthusiastic review of Introducing Franz Kafka, published by Icon Books some time back. I've been a fan of the Introducing... series for a number of years, and I've flicked through their biographies of just about everyone: from Roland Barthes to Sigmund Freud to Friedrich Nietzsche. The biographies offer a brief, yet insightful, summary to the major events in their subject's life, while providing a considered and approachable discussion of their work. Introducing... have also released books covering broader topics, such as 'Critical Theory' and 'Philosophy', which gift-wrap the key identifiable themes with fascinating anecdotes and pub-quiz trivia. But what makes Icon Books' signature series stand out on the shelf is their format: all editions have been released in the form of a comic-strip, or graphic novel.

In some ways, Introducing Franz Kafka is the apotheosis of the concept. David Zane Mairowitz and Robert Crumb offer a superb collaborative effort which outlines major events in Kafka's life to illustrate the key thematic motifs of his work. It is easy to dismiss this kind of biographical literary analysis as a kind of bogus detective work that leads to nowhere; and I'm sure that many of us appreciate that a writer's life need not necessarily bear relation to their work. But, having said that, Kafka's work seems to lend itself to this interpretative strategy, and despite its flaws Introducing makes a convincing and entertaining case.

I'm particularly fond of the way Mairowitz and Crumb dramatically summarize Kafka's major works, from The Trial to Metamorphosis, and a generous number of his short stories. They somehow manage to capture a sense of disorientation and alienation that persists in the texts, while also drawing attention to their own obscure logic and dark humour: Crumb's sketches capture Kafka's sensibility brilliantly, but does so with unmistakable originality and flair. Highly recommended.

You can find the official Icon Books website by clicking here, and read Tom's initial posting at A Common Reader.
16.5.09

Paul Auster on his new novel, 'Invisible'

Interview with Granta magazine
Paul Auster. Photograph by: Bebeto Matthews/Associated Press
Granta’s new issue, Granta 106: ‘Fiction Special’, includes ‘Invisible’, an extract from Paul Auster’s forthcoming novel of the same name, to be published by Faber in the UK and Frances Coady in the US. Auster is an internationally acclaimed author of more than twenty books of fiction, non-fiction and poetry. He is also a frequent Granta contributor – ‘Invisible’ marks the eighth appearance of his work in the magazine. In this exclusive Granta interview, he talks about the emotional intimacy and intertextual exercises of his fiction, the ‘intensity of youth’, the unsettling quality of narrative clarity and his writing process.
Paul Auster has been interviewed by Granta Magazine at his home. He reflects on the upcoming publication of his new novel, Invisible, and shares some insights into his writing routine. You can see the interview online at Granta's website by clicking here.
14.5.09

'Obliged by him': Jacques Derrida on James Joyce

Deconstructionist philosopher on the European modernist master
Jacques Derrida
Excerpted from Jacques Derrida, 'Two Words for Joyce' in Post-Structuralist Joyce (ed. Derek Attridge and Daniel Ferrer):
'Here the event is of such plot and scope that henceforth you have only one way out: being in memory of him. You're not only overcome by him, whether you know it or not, but obliged by him, and constrained to measure yourself against this overcoming. Being in memory of him: not necessarily to remember him, no, but to be in his memory, to inhabit his memory, which is henceforth greater than all your finite memory can, in a single instant or in a single vocable, gather up of cultures, languages, mythologies, religions, philosophies, sciences, history of mind and of literatures.'
13.5.09

Samuel Beckett Bridge Arrives in Dublin

Photographs by Dara Mac Dónaill
Samuel Beckett Bridge Arrives in Dublin. To open in 2010. Photograph by Infomatique

The Samuel Beckett Bridge arriving in Dublin Port this morning. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill



'Dublin's newest bridge reached the capital this morning, having travelled from Rotterdam.


'The Samuel Beckett Bridge arrived on a 90-metre barge and will remain there until it passes through the East Link bridge.


'It was due to pass through at 2am tomorrow morning, but that has been delayed as the bridge lift has been postponed by high winds.


'It is yet to be decided when the bridge will now be moved.


'When it opens in early 2010, it will link Guild Street on the northside of the city with Sir John Rogerson's Quay on the southside.


'Designed by the world famous Spanish architect and engineer, Dr Santiago Calatrava, the Samuel Beckett Bridge began its journey from Rotterdam seven days ago.'


Beckett and Painting: Caspar David Friedrich

On the influence of Friedrich on Samuel Beckett's work
Caspar David Friedrich, 'Two Men Contemplating the Moon 1819-20'
Excerpted from William Vaughan, 'Friedrich':
'Perhaps the most surprising and intriguing of connections of that time is that of Friedrich to the Irish existential playwright Samuel Beckett. Beckett toured Germany in 1936, where he was greatly impressed with the works by Friedrich that he saw on view.

'In this way this is ironic since the prominence of Friedrich in German galleries at this time was for the purpose of promoting Nazi ideology. But Beckett could respond - as Kleist had before him - to the searing loneliness conveyed by Friedrich, to the anxiety that lay behind all that staring into the distance. When in Dresden, Beckett was particularly struck by 'Two Men Contemplating the Moon'. He confessed 'a pleasant predilection for two tiny languid men in his landscapes, as in the little moon landscape, that is the only kind of romantic still tolerable, the bémolisé [in a minor key]. Later he made clear that it was this image that formed the visual source for his most famous play, 'Waiting for Godot' (1953). He specifically drew attention to this fact when in Berlin in the 1050s, arranging for a performance of the work. The situation in Beckett's play, that of two tramps holding a half-slapstick dialogue in a barren landscape beneath a dead tree, can certainly be seen as having a parodic connection to Friedrich's pair of contemplative dissidents.'
12.5.09

Bluffer's Guide to Godot

What to say about Samuel Beckett's most famous play
Patrick Stewart as Vladimir, Simon Callow as Pozzo and Ian McKellen as Estragon in Waiting for Godot at London's Theatre Royal Haymarket. Photograph: Tristram Kenton
'Bluffing your way through a witty conversation about Waiting for Godot is difficult when everybody claims to be an expert. If you haven't scored a ticket yet, let us (and the rest of the critics) help'

The Guardian is offering its readers a bluffer's guide to the current UK revival of Beckett's Waiting for Godot. The production is currently playing the Haymarket Theatre in London, and has attracted a number of warm critical reviews, with even the occasional celebrity guest. You can read Leo Benedictus's bluffer's guide online by clicking here. Alternatively, you can read Michael Billington's review of the show here, or Susannah Clapp's review here.

Billington's article explores the use of slapstick and music hall comedy in the latest run, which sometimes serves to weaken the overall impact of the play; nonetheless, Billington still finds something profound and emotionally-involving in the performances. Clapp is similarly aware of the production's weaknesses, but spends more time conveying its strengths. She summarizes by declaring that the familiar 'Beckettian' formula offers, in this case, ideal ingredients for a West-end success. Interesting stuff!

More Pricks Than Kicks: Beckett condensed by John Crace

A playful adaptation published in the Guardian
Samuel Beckett

'It was morning and Belacqua was stuck in the first canti of the moon. He was in stasis between Infernal allusion to Dante and a youthful homage to Joyce. The Master. "What would Stephen Daedalus do?" He asked himself.'

Samuel Beckett's early collection of short stories, More Pricks Than Kicks, has been condensed for John Crace's Digested Reads series. You can listen to the result at Guardian Online by clicking here, or, alternatively, you can read it here.
10.5.09

Purest Enjoyment: Bernhard on flicking pages

An excerpt from the novels of Austrian writer, Thomas Bernhard
Reading Room
Excerpted from Thomas Bernhard, Old Masters: A Comedy:
'I have, in my life, turned pages a million times more often than I have read them, and always derived from turning pages at least as much pleasure and real intellectual enjoyment as from reading. Surely it is better to read altogether only three pages of a four-hundred-page book a thousand times more thoroughly than the normal reader who reads everything but does not read a single page thoroughly, he said. It is better to read twelve lines of a book with the utmost intensity and thus to penetrate into them to the full, as one might say, rather than read the whole book as the normal reader does, who in the end knows the book he has read no more than an air passenger who knows the landscape he overflies. He does not perceive the contours. Thus all people nowadays read everything and know nothing. I enter into a book and settle in it, neck and crop, you should realize, in one or two pages of a philosophical essay as if I were entering a landscape, a piece of nature, a state organism, a detail of the earth, if you like, in order to penetrate into it entirely and not just with half my strength or half-heartedly, in order to explore it and then, having explored it with all the thoroughness at my disposal, drawing conclusions as to the whole. He who reads everything has understood nothing, he said. It is not necessary to read all of Goethe or all of Kant, it is not necessary to read all of Schopenhauer; a few pages of 'Werther', a few pages of 'Elective Affinities' and we know more in the end about the two books than if we had read them from beginning to end, which would anyway deprive us of the purest enjoyment.'
6.5.09

New York Times on Broadway's Waiting for Godot

Review of new production of Samuel Beckett's signature work
'Waiting for Godot,' with Nathan Lane, left, as Estragon, and Bill Irwin as Vladimir, at the Roundabout Theater Company.
'“I’ve been better entertained,” says Vladimir dismissively, when asked his opinion of one of Pozzo’s perorations. But if, as this play contends, all life is nothing but passing time that would have passed anyway, I can think of few more invigorating ways of both doing and acknowledging exactly that.'

In contrast to Alexis Soloski's lukewarm review in The Guardian (see previous posting), the New York Times offers an enthusiastic take on Broadway's revival of Beckett's Waiting for Godot. You can read the article online by clicking here.

Waiting for Godot on Broadway

Is Samuel Beckett's return to Broadway worth the wait?
Nathan Lane as Estragon, John Goodman as Pozzo and Bill Irwin as Vladimir. Photograph: Joan Marcus
'It's all very nice, but with occasional exceptions courtesy of Goodman, none of it feels particularly necessary. Beckett labelled his play a tragicomedy. Ideally, Waiting for Godot should participate in both parts of that word; this production is neither as funny as it ought to be, nor as horrifying. It's pleasant to watch Irwin and Lane play their scenes, but never does one feel that one shares in their condition, that the play might function as a sort of metaphor for life, each of us waiting, wanting, existing without hope of reward. Oh well: it may provide gimmicky cocktails, but at least the theatre doesn't label the show, as did the play's original American producer Michael Myerberg, "the laugh hit of two continents".'


Alexis Soloski of The Guardian is somewhat unenthusiastic about the revival of Beckett's Waiting for Godot on Broadway. On the one hand, the New York production boasts the acting talents of Nathan Lane and Bill Irwin, and early signs suggest that it is John Goodman's bold and theatrical Pozzo that is winning everyone's attention. But aside from a fairly positive assessment of the lead performances, Soloski labels the show as little more than a 'beautifully lit' but disappointingly 'lukewarm revival'. You can read the article in full by clicking here.

The Music of Irish Writers

Angela Leighton on the influence and role of music in Irish literature
Piano - Duane Street Loft. Photograph by Rain Worthington.
'With Joyce and Beckett the argument is more familiar. Joyce’s ability to “write general noise on paper”, as his brother put it, records a lifelong love of music, especially opera. From Bellini to the “The Lass of Aughrim” in “The Dead”; from Rheingold to “The Croppy Boy” in “Sirens” (Ulysses), the musical languages in Joyce are not only a matter of frequent allusion (there are 3,000 references to opera in Finnegans Wake), but also of hearing language as if it were played or sung; as if a bel canto of the imagination drove the rhythmic interior monologues of his works. Joyce once asked a friend “whether he didn’t think the musical effect of Ulysses superior to Wagner’s music drama” – a comparison not meant to be taken lightly. If this is “fiction adulterated by music” or, yet again, a kind of “verbal opera”, certainly Joyce’s language is one which constantly listens to non-linguistic sounds, to a rhythm and pitch which drum their own kinds of playful, self-estranging music. Beckett, like Joyce, was a good amateur pianist, and if his tastes inclined more to chamber music than opera, he too peppered his writings with musical sound effects. Moreover, his insistence that his plays be performed with absolute faithfulness to certain tempi and speech dynamics could be exacting. “No one can possibly follow the text at that speed”, one of his actors complained. “It’s like music, a piece of Schoenberg in his head.” The point at which language gives way to composed sound is always close for Beckett, as is the point where it gives way to silence – a silence which, in his works, always has the timed expressiveness of a rest in music. '

There's a feature today's Times Literary Supplement exploring the role of music in the Irish literary imagination. The piece makes numerous references to Samuel Beckett, James Joyce, and the poet W. B. Yeats, tracing the musical trends that punctuate and flavour their writing. George Bernard Shaw, J. M. Synge and Thomas Moore also receive worthy mentions. You can read the article online by clicking here.

Michel Foucault on Beckett's 'Waiting for Godot'

French cultural theorist and historian on the influence of Samuel Beckett's work
Michel Foucault
Excerpted from James Miller, The Passion of Michel Foucault:
Foucault's own youthful epiphany was not nearly so sudden. It all began, as he later recalled, in a darkened theater one night in the winter of 1953.


The curtain went up, and revealed a barren set. Just the skeleton of a tree. On stage appeared two tramps. "Nothing to be done," says one. "I'm beginning to come round to that opinion," says the other.


Of no discernible age or calling, the tramps chatter idly.


"What about hanging ourselves," says one.


"Hmmm. It'd give us an erection," says the other.


"An erection! ... Let's hang ourselves immediately.'


But this exchange, like every other, comes to nothing.


Off stage, a whip cracks. A man appears, leading a slave tethered to a rope tied around his neck. "I present myself," the master says with pompous grandiloquence: "Pozzo"


A play-within-theplay unfolds. The slave will perform. Pozzo jerks the rope: "Think, pig!" The otherwise mute man abruptly lurhces into a shouted soliloquy: "Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell..."


This explosion of words is doubtless the most exciting single moment in a nearly three-hour performance. For the rest, it is a matter of endless waiting - waiting for someone called Godot.


Samuel Beckett's play was the intellectual event of that season in Paris. It rocked the intelligentsia, such as Sartre's lecture on existentialism had eight years before. Night after night, audiences sat solemnly, as if watching a dramatization of Heidegger's philosophy - which is precisely what the young novelist Alain Robbe-Grillet declared the play to be. A farce with the air of tragedy, its vagrant heroes had nothing to do and little to say, their hyponotically boring patter broken only by the slave's mad parody of scholasticism. Offered as a kind of philosophical parable, the play seduced Parisian audiences with its irresistible hints of a deep and important mystery just waiting to be unravelled.


It is obvious, Robbe-Grillet declared in his influential review, that Godot is God: "After all, why not? Godot - why not, just as well? - is the earthly ideal of a better social order. Do we not aspire to a better life, better food, better clothes, as well as the possibility of no longer being beaten? And this Pozzo, who is precisely not Godot - is he not the man who keeps thought enslaved? Or else Godot is death: tomorrow we will hang ourselves, if it does not come all by itself. Godot is silence; we must speak while waiting for it: in order to have the right, ultimately, to keep still. Godot is that inaccessible self Beckett pursues through his entire oeuvre, with this constant hope, 'This time, perhaps, it will be me at last.'"


Shortly before his death, Foucault summed up his intellectual odyssey in these years. "I belong to that generation who, as students, had before their eyes, and were limited by, a horizon consisting of Marxism, phenomenology, and existentialism," he said. "For me the break was first Beckett's Waiting for Godot, a breathtaking performance."


That this drama of futility, folly, and aborted metaphysics should have suggested the best way yet to escape from Sartre's "terrorism" is not accidental. The world of Godot is a world where the very ideas of freedom and responsiobility have been dramatically emptied of any lingering moral significance. "Moral values are not accessible," Beckett would later declare. "It is not even possible to talk about truth, that's part of the anguish. Paradoxically, through form, by giving form to what is formless, the artist can find a possible way out."


In the winter of 1953, Foucault had yet to invent his own "possible way out." But that would come soon enough. For this time, perhaps, it was himself, at last, that he was finding.
4.5.09

J. G. Ballard, 'Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton'

Review of Ballard's autobiography
J. G. Ballard, 'Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton'
'But perhaps there was an answer, using a kind of extreme logic. My direction as a writer changed after Mary's death, and many readers thought that I became far darker. But I like to think I was much more radical, in a desperate attempt to prove that black was white, that two and two made five in the moral arithmetic of the 1960s. I was trying to construct an imaginative logic that made sense of Mary's death and would prove that the assassination of President Kennedy and he countless deaths of the Second World War had been worthwhile or even meaningful in some as yet undiscovered way. Then, perhaps, the ghosts inside my head, the old beggar under his quilt of snow, the strangled Chinese at the railway station, Kennedy and my young wife, could be laid to rest.'

J. G. Ballard, 'Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton'
Since the news of the death of British writer J. G. Ballard last month, I've been revisiting some of his work. I felt a great affinity with many of his short stories while an undergraduate at university, and developed a bond with his novels while working full-time at a city multiplex cinema.

Ballard's themes feel more like obsessions, constantly recurring through the body of his work, like the neurotic symptoms of a psychoanalytic patient. His writing stemmed from an interest in contemporary life as he saw it, and within the strange contradictions of the middle-class nuclear family, or the dark and unspoken underside of Western society. Ballard's work explores the surreal relationship of the transgressive or the extreme with the realities of everyday life. He was among the first to explore the implications of aspirational consumerism on the human subject, and the construction of Western consciousness through the media cult of celebrity.

All of his narratives appear to share a common vocabulary of images, of abandoned car parks and empty swimming pools, icons of modernity that are somehow deconstructed and undermined. These images, with their persistent recurrence in so many of Ballard's novels and short stories, strike a chord with the reader as uncanny signifiers of a world that no longer exists. The major traumatic events of twentieth-century history have, in a sense, devalued rationalist notions of logic and structure, and so have devalued the security of truth and of meaning. Ballard's canvas offers a landscape of a derelict modernity, formed in the context of the Second World War, the Kennedy assassination, and the Holocaust.

Ballard has cited the surrealist painters as a key influence on his work, and it is often clear to see. The surrealist manifesto questions and undermines the natural order of things: images and signifiers are juxtaposed in ways that defy rationalization, often leading to the kind of confusion or incoherence that denies observers comfort or security. Such works purposefully lack the promise or closure of any stable, unitary meaning, and for many this can be a deeply troubling conclusion.

It's easy to see Ballard's work refracted through key events of twentieth-century history, where his middle-class childhood afforded him an observer's perspective on the poverty and violence that surrounded him. In many ways his eyewitness testimony is a surrealist guidebook of twentieth-century history: a troubled and terrible list of fractured bodies, abandoned buildings and crumbling civilizations. There is the potent and incompatible blend of the large suburban home and the dead beggar at the foot of the driveway, or street-level businesses existing in and around bombed-out buildings. Surrealist combinations that defy all sense or reason, but also in some way define what it means to exist in the twentieth-century.

J. G. Ballard's Miracles of Life: Shanghai to Shepperton is a book written in hindsight. Already aware that he is suffering from a terminal illness, Ballard intended to shed some light on a life that is rich in anecdotal details. Raised in Shanghai, Ballard was interned in a camp by Japanese troops during the wartime occupation of China. After the war he migrated to England, where he became a medical student examining cadavers at Cambridge University. He began to form profound opinions on the life and complexity of the human body, but decided that while the experience provided fertile ground for his imagination, he was not motivated to become a doctor. The course in medicine had in fact been an attempt to move into a career in psychiatry, trying to understand the mind in order to understand himself.

J. G. Ballard
He trained as a pilot in Canada for a short spell, drawn to the transcendent possibilities of human flight and the infinite mystery of the aircraft runway. But this, too, left the writer unsatisfied. Instead, J. G. Ballard began to seriously consider his pathway as a writer, and began to experiment with the short story form in order to flesh out his ideas. It was at around this time that Ballard married, eventually settling in the quiet suburb of Shepperton to raise three beloved children.

Miracles of Life is both candid and compelling, offering new insights into the artistic motivations of one of Britain's greatest authors. There is a detailed exploration of his childhood experiences in Shanghai, and a number of attempts to sketch a reason or logic for the shape that his fiction was to take. The autobiography also accounts for the tragic loss of his wife, and the immense difficulty of reconciling everyday life with such random, seemingly meaningless events.

Ballard's novels appear to chart the 'inner-space' of protagonists who are undergoing profound mental trauma, defined in the context of post-war Western society: a culture defined by the mass media, celebrity, consumerism and advanced technology.

J. G. Ballard's final book does not answer every question, or explain every obsession, but is a new work in its own right. It presents us with the last of Ballard's protagonists, consummately played by the writer himself: a man of comfortable, middle-class upbringing, surrounded by an affectionate family in a quiet, idyllic neighbourhood. And yet, this man, who embodied the quintessential aspirations of Western society, is ultimately defined by the incoherent trauma of the century that created him. A fascinating memoir of a fascinating life.
1.5.09

Creative Review on Faber's new Beckett editions

Samuel Beckett gets a new look
Faber and Faber's new editions of 'Waiting for Godot' and 'Molloy'
'“A neutral grey background was selected as a counterpoint to the special Pantone colours chosen for each of the 18 titles,” explains A2’s Scott Williams.

'“This choice is, in part, a playful reference to Beckett’s directive that his gravestone be ‘any colour, so long as it’s grey’.”


The Creative Review blog is discussing the upcoming re-issues of Samuel Beckett's work by UK publisher Faber and Faber (see previous posting). The article includes observations from Miriam Rosenbloom, Faber's senior designer, who oversaw the project, and various images of the new editions.

While I'm excited that the new editions are finally going to be available, I'm a little unsure about the design concept. On the one hand, they look modern, clean, simple and consistent; on the other, I'm not entirely convinced they suit the mood of Beckett's writing. I'm more a fan of the new Grove paperbacks at the moment (read more). I suppose the real test is not what the Faber editions look like on a computer monitor, but how they appear in your hands - or on the shelf.

You can read Creative Review's verdict by clicking here.