Biblical References in Texts For Nothing

Finally, a text I can understand that was written by the Samuel Beckett! I understood the references to all of his other works and of giving up and of dying, but most importantly, I understood the Biblical references throughout Texts For Nothing.

One of the bluntest allusions is to Jesus and his time spent in the desert. Satan tempts Jesus to jump off a cliff and prove he is the son of God by surviving. Jesus refuses, quoting the Bible that no one shall test the Lord.

“I tried throwing me off a cliff, collapsing in the street in the midst of mortals, that led nowhere, I gave up. Take the road again that cast me up here, then retrace it, or follow it on, wise advise. That’s so that I’ll never stir again, dribble on here till time is done, murmuring every ten centuries, It’s not me, it’s not true, it’s not me, I’m far” (303).

Here Beckett takes the Biblical story and rewrites it to state the ridiculousness of religion. Beckett also seems to question where God is, because “murmuring every ten centuries” is not much of a presence for an all-powerful ruler.

Beckett references Jesus bluntly a second time in “9.” He retells the story of how Jesus died and rose again because his tomb stone was rolled away and his body had vanished.

“Yes, I’d have a mother, I’d have a tomb, I wouldn’t have come out of here, here are my tomb and mother, it’s all here this evening, I’m dead and getting born, without having ended, helpless to begin, that’s my life” (325).

When Beckett states, “I wouldn’t have come out of here,” he is reminiscing on the absurdity of being born from a virgin and leaving your tomb as a live man.

I really enjoyed reading Texts For Nothing, and I think because I seem to understand some of it, I will change my paper topic and write on this interesting work.

Incessant Babble

Winnie contradicts herself throughout Happy Days, but the one instance of Winnie’s incessant contradictions that struck me as most odd was her assurance of silence to Willie.

Winnie promises quiet after Willie entertains her request of repetition. Winnie keeps bothering Willie to echo what she previously stated, and Willie repeats only the first half of the statement.

WINNIE: … Bless you Willie I do appreciate your goodness I know what an effort it costs you, now you may relax I shall not trouble you again unless I am obliged to, by that I mean unless I come to the end of my own resources which is most unlikely, just to know in theory you can hear me even though in fact you don’t is all I need, just to feel you there within earshot and conceivably on the qui vive is all I ask, … (281).

All I Ask of You -Skrillex

Winnie claims she will leave Willie alone, but while informing him of her future silence, she babbles on to him.

In fact, Winnie continues to assail Willie’s ears with her constant dribble as she swears a second time that he will enjoy some peaceful relaxation.

WINNIE: … And you have done more than your bit already, for the time being, just lie back now and relax, I shall not trouble you again unless I am compelled to, just to know you are there within hearing and conceivably on the semi-alert is…er…paradise enow (284).

Winnie's in Paradise?

Nope.

Winnie obviously comes “to the end of her resources” and is “compelled to” talk to Willie because she continues to do so throughout the remainder of the play.

Winnie has won me over, though, with her positive attitude. She would settle with knowing Willie is present instead of listening to all she has to say. The fact that this request is “all I ask” forces me to adore Winnie and her unique situation.

 

Oh, Krapp!

Krapp’s Last Tape amazes me as we continue to discuss it. The play is relatively short, yet the performance we watched was fifty eight minutes long. Because the reading is short, I troubled over what to blog about, but our exercise on Wednesday helped me.

The first thing that grabbed my attention was how Krapp’s name resembles the English word for shit, or crap. I believe that Beckett did this on purpose, especially when the tape monologues about how the light allows the darkness to accentuate Krapp.

The new light above my table is a great improvement. With all this darkness round me I feel less alone. [Pause.] In a way. [Pause.] I love to get up and move about in it, then back here to [hesitates]…me. [Pause.] Krapp (219).

Because Krapp already names himself in the previous sentence as “me,” so his name at the end sounds exactly like he is saying “crap.” For example: “I love to get up and move about in it, then back here to…me. Oh, crap.” His name at the end remains unnecessary and resembles exasperation as if he was cursing.

An "Oh, Crap! Moment

Beckett writes astonishingly because of his nouns and verbs. In the above excerpt, the strong sentences are “I feel” and “I love.” In class, we practiced this exercise of strong noun-verb sentences, and mine are not quite as sophisticated as everyone else’s in the class, but here they are.

            The floor boards surrender to Krapp’s feet.

            The rain falls in the background of the darkness.

            The desk, chair, spool, and box reflect the age of the old man.

            The memory of her causes him to cry tears of burning fire.

            He slips on the banana peel, curses, then drinks alcohol.

            He bitches about the bitch he once screwed with the moving earth, touching her thighs,

drinking to remember, and drinking to forget.

Father/Son Boundaries Blurred

When first reading Endgame, I couldn’t help comparing Hamm and Clov to the slapstick duo, thing one and thing two, from Waiting for Godot. My opinion changed immediately when we watched the theatrical version of Endgame in class. Gogo and Didi are friends, but Hamm and Clov are like a father and a son. Hamm and Clov are close yet fight often. Hamm is insulting while Clov is subservient. On two occasions does Hamm need to apologize to the man he has raised as a son, and he (un)surprisingly apologizes in a parallel manner (Beckett’s fault: I have come to believe he adores repetition).

The first instance necessitates an apology because Hamm has lost the love of Clov.

HAMM: I’ve made you suffer too much. [Pause.] Haven’t I? CLOV: It’s not that. HAMM: [shocked] I haven’t made you suffer too much? CLOV: Yes! HAMM: [relieved] Ah you gave me a fright. [Pause. Coldly.] Forgive me. [Pause. Louder.] I said, Forgive me. CLOV: I heard you (94).

Hamm punishes Clov too severely; much like a father overprotects his son and severs him from the rest of the world. Hamm appears to be attempting to build character in Clov by making him suffer. This aspect of their relationship also points to one of parent-child.

Overprotective father who literally snarls at danger.

The second instance necessitates an apology because Hamm ridicules Clov for his extracurricular activity of staring at a wall.

HAMM: Your light dying! Listen to that! Well, it can die just as well here, your light. Take a look at me and then come back and tell me what you think of your light. [Pause.] CLOV: You shouldn’t speak to me like that. [Pause.] HAMM: [coldly] Forgive me. [Pause. Louder.] I said, Forgive me. CLOV: I heard you (98).

Hamm always seems to have a larger complaint than anyone else, including poor Clov; but this instance of ridicule only reminded me of parents saying, “back in my day we…” Hamm criticizes Clov because he is older and Clov allows his incessant nagging (which is strange to me because Hamm’s father is named Nagg).

Also, in each instance of apologetic interaction, Clov never forgives Hamm; he only acknowledges that Hamm apologized. To me, the short response, “I heard you,” represents the inner feelings of an angsty teenager. Clov may not be Hamm’s biological son, and Hamm may not have raised Clov extraordinarily, but they are tied together in a bond that can only be described as a father and a son.

 

Thing 1 and Thing 2

In class, we discussed how Waiting for Godot arguably concerns alienation, but I believe that Gogo and Didi are just too intertwined to be alienated. They constantly play off each other’s own words in a form that seems to be unbelievably slapstick. In my opinion, they even sometimes appear to be the same character, and I mix them up throughout the entire play.

For example, on the first couple pages of the tragicomedy Gogo and Didi share the same phrases.

ESTRAGON: [feebly] Help me! VLADIMIR: It hurts? ESTRAGON: [angrily] Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts! VLADIMIR: [angrily] No one ever suffers but you. I don’t count. I’d like to hear what you’d say if you had what I have. ESTRAGON: It hurts? VLADIMIR: [angrily] Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts! (4)

Nothing to be done, eh? It hurts, eh?

Their comedy appears to be slapstick as they fire the same lines quickly at one another. They also seem very sarcastic and vague, which adds to the comedy because of the phrase repetition. Gogo and Didi also share the same emotion. They present their lines “[angrily]” at one another, and their anger remains similar throughout the lines because they are indeed the same lines.

This instance of anger is not the only instance as Gogo and Didi build off each other’s phrases and emotions in Act II.

VLADIMIR & ESTRAGON: [turning simultaneously] Do you – VLADIMIR: Oh pardon! ESTRAGON: Carry on. VLADIMIR: No no, after you. ESTRAGON: No no, you first. VLADIMIR: I interrupted you. ESTRAGON: On the contrary. [They glare at each other angrily.] VLADIMIR: Ceremonious ape! ESTRAGON: Punctilious pig! VLADIMIR: Finish your phrase, I tell you! ESTRAGON: Finish your own! (65)

I typed "punctilious pig" into google images and this showed up. This man literally has his head up his ass. Great insult! Bravo! Jolly good show!

Here Gogo and Didi speak “…angrily]” at one another. In this instance, they try to be out of sync but in fact remain in sync because of the structure of their phrases. For example, with their insults, they each name an adjective then a noun: “Ceremonious ape!” and “Punctilious pig!” This “shift” of sync only occurrs because they were so in sync in the first place. They both spoke the same phrase at the beginning, “Do you.” They even perform the same movement, “[turning simultaneously].” They want each other to finish the phrase they both started in order to fire more of the same lines at one another: “Finish your phrase, I tell you!” and “Finish your own!”

Estragon and Vladimir must be twins or some freak of nature, because I know I certainly cannot tell them apart.

 

The Unnamable, The Jarhead

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

Negative Nancy Malone

The Negative Nancy

 

Malone differs from Molloy in his attitude towards people. Molloy and Malone both deal with death; Molloy loses his mother while Malone is losing himself. Because Malone nears death while Molloy observes it, Malone develops a negative view of everyone.

Directly on the second page, Malone addresses, well, everyone in his life. “Let me say before I go any further that I forgive nobody. I wish them all an atrocious life and then the fires and ice of hell and in the execrable generations to come an honoured name” (174). So basically, Malone curses everyone involved in his life, but blesses their children. Malone is indeed a queer character, telling himself made-up stories before he kicks the bucket.

One of said stories contains a man and a woman. He is equally annoyed with them as he is with his nurse, the noise of the hospital, etc. “And I shall begin, that they may plague me no more, with the man and woman” (176). The man and woman do not exist; they are Malone’s own fictional characters. This fact is crucial because his annoyance becomes strange and unnecessary.

A Man and a Woman

Malone also holds others, real people this time, in contempt. In his hospital bed, he is able to prop himself against the window-pane and look into one room of a house. “I can see into a room of the house across the way. Queer things go on there sometimes, people are queer. Perhaps these are abnormal” (178). Malone does not even bother to say, “Perhaps these [people] are abnormal.” They remain blank objects, queer and abnormal, which Malone himself is.

I typed in "queer" on youtube and found this?

 

Molloy, the Unknown and the Unreliable

The Unreliable Narrator

Molloy constantly contradicts himself when describing the setting of “Molloy” to the reader, making him an unreliable narrator.

First, Molloy depicts two people who remain nameless, but are called A and C, as identical. “They looked alike, but no more than others do” (5). In one sentence, Molloy is able to shift the reader’s perspective, a sentence with nine words. So, apparently A and C resemble each other, “but no more than others do.” Everyone looks slightly different from one another, but Molloy is not implying this. He outright states that they look alike, just like everyone else does. Well, I am a brunette and my brother is a blonde; we may share common features but we look completely different. Therefore, A and C do not look alike even though Molloy claims that they do.

By God, they're identical! (or are they?)

Then Molloy proceeds to describe a man and his dog. “Perhaps he had come from afar, from the other end of the island even, and was approaching the town for the first time or returning to it after a long absence. A little dog followed him, a Pomeranian I think, but I don’t think so. I wasn’t sure at the time and I’m still not sure, though I’ve hardly thought about it” (7). Molloy tells a story of an event he supposedly witnessed, but he cannot even remember large details about the only two objects his eyes were watching. He does not know the man’s intentions, which is slightly understandable, but he also does not know the breed of dog, which is ridiculous.

Just a gentle man and his pomeranian?

Molloy later admits that the details of these stories are blurry to him. “And I am perhaps confusing several different occasions, and different times, deep down, and deep down is my dwelling, oh not deepest down, somewhere between the mud and scum” (10). In this quote, Molloy confesses that he is an unreliable narrator immediately, then contradicts himself one last time.

Although, Molloy will continue to disappoint and confuse the reader by remaining an unreliable narrator throughout the entire story. “I can’t believe it. No, I will not lie, I can easily conceive it” (10).

I just can't believe it!

The Constraints of Society

A big difference exists between what you want to do and what you are supposed to do. Belacqua struggles with this problem throughout “Yellow” because of the surgery he must suffer through, and each difference between the desires and expectations of Belacqua are represented with dialogue and parentheses.

Belacqua’s mind, haunted by the thought of being put under and cut open, wishes to rebel. But how would his behavior affect his doctor, his surgery, and his family?

“But the unfortunate part of it was that this would appear in his behaviour, he would scream and kick and bite and scratch when they came for him, beg for execution to be stayed and perhaps even wet the bed, and what a reflection on his late family that would be! The grand old family Huguenot guts, he could not do the dirty on them like that. (To say nothing of his natural anxiety to be put to rights with as little fuss as possible)” (200).

 

Belacqua really wants to act out and be dramatic in order to prevent the cold touch of the scalpel, but he naturally wants to be better as quickly as possible, so he must not fuss in order to make a good impression on his doctor and his family by remaining cool, calm, and collected throughout the tortures of surgery.

Belacqua concerns himself with the memory of his family and therefore restrains himself, but he also equally worries about the opinions of his friends. “So now there was nothing for it but to lie on his back in the dark and exercise his talent. Unless of course he chose to distress the friends of his late family (to say nothing of perhaps jeopardizing the cure for which the friends of his late family were paying)” (202). Belacqua wants to prevent surgery with acts of silly resistance, but he must lie still and be quiet out of respect for the people receiving the bill for his surgery.

 

They pay the bills, so just get over yourself

The rules of society constrain our actions, though we are allowed to think freely. Belacqua accomplishes just this as he pleasures himself with the idea that he could rebel, act out, scream, yell, fight, etc., but never performs any of these desires because of the part that others play in his surgery: the nurses will take care of him, the doctor will operate on him, and his friends will financially support him.

Scary surgery!

The Presence of Death

A man hears a voice in the dark, and I believe that voice is death. The voice changes narratives throughout “Company” to delude the logic of the man on his back as well as the reader.

At first, the man tries to deduce that the voice is not addressing him. “Though now even less than ever given to wonder he cannot but sometimes wonder if it is indeed to and of him the voice is speaking. May not there be another with him in the dark to and of whom the voice is speaking? Is he not perhaps overhearing a communication not intended for him? If he is alone on his back in the dark why does the voice not say so?” (428). The voice currently utilizes the second person narrative, but the man on his back believes himself to be the listener of a conversation not pertaining to him, and he is wrong.

If the voice were not addressing him, the voice would assume the third person narrative.

“Since it speaks in the second person. Were it not of him to whom it is speaking speaking but of another it would not speak in the second person but in the third. For example, He first saw the light on such and such a day and now he is on his back in the dark. It is clear therefore that if it is not to him the voice is speaking but to another it is not of him either but of that other and none other to that other. So with what reason remains he reasons ill” (429).

Now that the man realizes his mistake, his mind starts to deteriorate as he simply accepts the voice as company and imagines it to be entertaining, even though it may be death. The voice resembles death because it constantly recounts the events of the man’s life, in order, addressing the man as “you.”

The voice then transitions to the first person narrative when the man believes the voice is inside his mind. “To confess, Yes I remember. Perhaps even to have a voice. To murmur, Yes I remember. What an addition to company that would be! A voice in the first person singular. Murmuring now and then, Yes I remember” (431). In my opinion, this passage is evidence that the man on his back is accepting his condition, death. The man lies in the dark on his back because he resides in a coffin.

Beckett explains this situation on the last page of the story, when he describes the forever limited space and singularity of the man on his back.

“You now on you back in the dark shall not rise to your arse again to clasp your legs in your arms and bow down your head till it can bow down no further. But with face upturned for good labour in vain at your fable. Till finally you hear how words are coming to an end. With every inane word a little nearer to the last. And how the fable too. The fable of one with you in the dark. The fable of one fabling of one with you in the dark. And how better in the end labour lost and silence. And you as you always were. Alone” (450).

The voice never existed; it was a fable, a fable made up by a man losing his final moments of consciousness.

The man will never rise again because he cannot, because he is dead. And alone. Having imagined he spoke to death. Such company.

ALONE.

Mlle. Glain, So Flat with Dimensions

The Great Dante

 

This class has given me my first opportunity to read Samuel Beckett, and he appears to be a Symbolist. He lies somewhere in between Romanticism and Realism. Beckett romanticizes about actions or objects that are realist, or boring and disgusting actions or objects. Also, his descriptions of the mundane are unreasonably thorough, especially in “Dante and the Lobster.” Beckett describes making toast for almost three pages. Although thorough, his descriptions are necessary and funny, in my opinion. One example is the flat character, Mlle. Glain.

When introduced, her character dominates every sentence. “Sounds of conflict were borne in from the hall. Then silence. A knuckle tambourined on the door, it flew open and lo it was Mlle. Glain, the French instructress, clutching her cat, her eyes out on stalks, in a state of the greatest agitation” (85). From this small passage, the reader gathers that Mlle. Glain is loud, “sounds of conflict;” over excessive, “knuckle tambourined;” dramatic, “flew open…eyes out on stalks;” and a crazy cat lady, “clutching her cat.” The reader also becomes aware of the fact that she speaks French, because Beckett utilizes this attribute to describe her entire being. “Mlle. Glain took a French step forward” (86).

 

 

The Crazy Cat Lady

Another quirk of Mlle. Glain that remains for us to discover is her ability to be nosy and humble at the same time. She barges into the Italian room to question Belacqua about a situation she has already prevented. Belacqua responds “fish”because he does not know the French word for “lobster.” “He did not know the French for lobster. Fish would do very well. Fish had been good enough for Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. It was good enough for Mlle. Glain” (86). What a hilarious way to state that she accepted his answer! Beckett has created a flat character with dimensions that can only be described as ridiculous and hilarious.

 

Lobster

The Dancing Lobsters We All Hallucinate About