Nohow on: Company, Ill Seen, Ill Said, Worstward Ho

These are not easy works. That said, they are perhaps more honest, profound, and original that the many other, more accessible works you could be reading otherwise. Each is certainly a more than a bit tiring, and, like so many other works by Beckett, you'll find yourself frustrated if you breeze through a single paragraph without nearly committing it to memory. So, if they are as worthwhile as I previously suggested, what might justify all the trouble? The one or two passages that will strike you - and perhaps only you - on each reading. The title of my review is one you'll know if you enjoy reading Beckett, but also take a peek at this one that I've never seen singled out or particularly commended: The words too whosesoever. What room for worse! How almost true they sometimes almost ring! How wanting in inanity! Say the night is young alas and take heart. Or better worse say still a watch of night alas to come. A rest of last watch to come. And take heart. (99) Like Joyce, Beckett seems to reward the reader in almost direct proportion to how much effort they might invest in any given work. If a work proves difficult, it remains so for a reason - no writer, contrary to reputation, ever seeks the label of "inaccessible" or "esoteric." Beckett, like all great writers, moves in a realm beyond paraphrase, and no readers should beat themselves up for failing to catch every nuance and every meaning at a first go or a single reading. Or multiple readings. All that remains for someone dedicated to reading the work is to trust in it and - perhaps most importantly - enjoy it. Even if that may mean only catching a single passage, one passage at a time.

These three novels represent Samuel Beckett's greatest accomplishment. What are they about you might ask? Let's just say that they're about everything and nothing. They are profound commentaries on the universal existential crises plaguing all of mankind, and an utterly fascinating reduction of what it means to be a human. Be forewarned: these novels are extremely modern, abstract works of art, and for many will be very difficult reading. The final installment, _Worstword Ho_ is officially the greatest work of fiction, page for page, that I have ever read. It is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. These novels are not to be taken lightly and it should be noted that Samuel Beckett put the "high" in highway. This is abstract literary thought at its far-seeing outer limit.

If we politely ignore the short story "Stirrings Still," which was completed in 1989, the year of Samuel Beckett's death, these three short (very short) novels comprise the final crowning achievement in his long and brilliant prose career. Best known as the author of the play "Waiting for Godot" ("En attendant Godot"), it remains to be seen whether Beckett will ever be as lauded for his prose as he already is for his contributions to absurdist theater, but he should be. Although his trilogy of novels - "Molloy," "Malone Dies," and "The Unnamable" - are probably better-known, the three works collected in this omnibus edition entitled "Nohow On" are some of the most perfect prose of the 20th century. "Company" combines memories from Beckett's own childhood in Ireland with the minuscule movements made by an old man alone on his back in the dark. It is one of Beckett's "closed space" works, in which as little movement as possible is made, both literally and figuratively, yet it is also one of his most accessible and beautiful pieces. "Ill Seen Ill Said" (originally written in French as "Mal vu mal dit") takes the idea of "closed space" one step further, and removes any connection to Beckett's own personal memories. And finally, "Worstward Ho," which Beckett wrote in English and considered "untranslatable" into French, is a distillation of language into its very essence, in which the reader must concentrate on every word, and in which two- and three-word sentences are more beautiful and devastating than just about anything most so-called great novelists ever wrote.

I have been reading "Ill seen ill said" obsessively for years. When I wore out my copy I purchased this book, which contains two other late "novels." Company is beautiful and relatively accessible. "Worstword Ho" reads like a prose poem. If you only know Beckett from your college reading of "Waiting for Godot" you are missing a lot.

Beckett, like his mentor Joyce, carried his creative and visionary power through his last years. This unofficial "trilogy" marks the last great Beckettian moment, which, in my opinion, ranks second only to Endgame in sheer poetic beauty. Between the opener, "Company," and the closer, "Worstword Ho," there is the struggle between creation and annihilation, belonging and forlornness, hope and despair, daybreak and dawn. And then, the middle piece, "Ill Seen Ill Said," could be the screenplay of a beautiful movie that was never made (perhaps in the imagination of Beckett himself?).On.