In the beginning of The Unnamable, there are small hints
that the narrator is a head in a jar. First, the unnamable states his
immobility: “No, once and for all, I do not move” (286). Then, the unnamable
describes his own personal process of crying: “The tears stream down my cheeks
from my unblinking eyes. What makes me weep so? From time to time. There is
nothing saddening here. Perhaps it is liquefied brain” (287). The reason his
tears remind him of “liquefied brain” is because his head is in a jar of
liquid; so, his “unblinking eyes” yield the “liquefied brain” because the
juices from the preservative liquid and the juices from his brain matter are
mixing. Another aspect of the unnamable’s eyes is their immobility: “In a sense
I would be better off at the circumference, since my eyes are always fixed in
the same direction. But I am certainly not at the circumference” (289). The unnamable
resides on a restaurant counter, so he is “not at the circumference” and
because his head is in a jar, his “eyes are always fixed in the same direction.”
The unnamable
elaborates on these aspects of his “special situation” on page 291:
“I
may add that my seat would appear to be somewhat elevated, in relation to the
surrounding ground, if ground is what it is. Perhaps it is water or some other
liquid. With the result that, in order to obtain the optimum view of what takes
place in front of me, I should have to lower my eyes a little. But I lower my
eyes no more. In a word, I only see what appears immediately in front of me, I only
see what appears close beside me, what I best see I see ill.”
The unnamable has
established that he is on an “elevated” counter top, that he is surrounded by “liquid,”
and that his eyes never move – “I only see what appears immediately in front of
me.” The unnamable is a head in a jar full of liquid on a counter in a
restaurant. Oh, Beckett, oh unnamable.
Restaurant Counter