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/lit/ - Literature

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5043155 No.5043155[DELETED]  [Reply] [Original]

“The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said.” - Beckett

Why was Beckett so based and hilarious?

>> No.5044198

>>5043155

what does lit think of beckett?

>> No.5044202

>>5044198
I liked Molloy, and Mallone Dies.
I could not stand the Unnameable and Waiting for Godot.

>> No.5044213

>>5044198
Always wanted to read him, but never have.

>> No.5044232

>>5043155
What novels of his does /lit/ recommend?

>> No.5044245

>>5043155
What's that from?

>> No.5044274

>>5044245

ZA ENDO

>> No.5044365

>>5044202
>I could not stand the Unnameable and Waiting for Godot.

Did you watch Waiting for Godot first?? That could make a big difference:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuU3RrGj3Lc

I really liked this version and made reading the play much more dynamic and palpable...

>> No.5044380

>>5044232
read malloy, mallone dies, and the unamable, but only after you have read his complete short prose

>> No.5044403

“Oedipa resolved to pull in at the next motel she saw, however ugly, stillness and four walls having at some point become preferable to this illusion of speed, freedom, wind in your hair, unreeling landscape—it wasn’t. What the road really was, she fancied, was this hypodermic needle, inserted somewhere ahead into the vein of a freeway, a vein nourishing the mainliner L.A., keeping it happy, coherent, protected from pain, or whatever passes, with a city, for pain. But were Oedipa some single melted crystal of urban horse, L.A., really, would be no less turned on for her absence.”

>> No.5044450

>>5044232

watch this


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuU3RrGj3Lc

>> No.5044638

>>5043155
>switches to past tense halfway through

>> No.5044658

>>5044198
Favourite playwright. His fiction is good too. I dislike that he was a member of the Joyce school of writing, but his works outshine Joyce.

>> No.5044772

>>5044658

agreed!

>> No.5044775

>>5044638
>>switches to past tense halfway through

>implying time doesn't flow
>using only one tense as if time is static

>> No.5044796

>>5044775
It's sloppy.

>> No.5044897
File: 48 KB, 634x667, Death_and_Fire.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
5044897

>>5044796
>It's sloppy.

it's art

>> No.5045348
File: 21 KB, 283x400, celine.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
5045348

I don’t see anything among all these trinkets that might truly impassion us...that might revive so much as a single fly, a living fly, a fly that flies...the cause appears to me to be understood, Renaissance, naturalism, objectivism, surrealism, the perfect progression towards the Robotic. We are already there. As far as I’m concerned, everything is in admirable agreement. Baby rattles, childish games, Calvinists, “Vermouth” varnish. Baedekerisms, and an asshole. There’s no way to bring the water in this vessel to a boil. Assorted groups of mixed lanterns, croutons of sweetened textbooks, Latin-book hair curlers, “Translation” chickens in “measure” sauce with the entire box of nuanced garnish. Meaninglessness raised to the ten thousandth power. A show, a fair of eunuchs dressed-up as dildoes, with a big strong-box, a lantern, a can, a bladder, more so akings, and slices of recircumcised prepuces! There’s not one from among all of these vague motifs, these effronterous importunings, which has not been worked-over at least a hundred times and in all of its aspects, without ceremony, in vague high school recollections. All of these stories, these styles, these scenarios, these mannerisms are put into one’s head at school... Never occurring to a fellow in and of himself. They are nothing but so many alibis, so many parvenu pretexts, for the consolidation of careers, for irrational academic crazes, as ornamental knickknacks for wine cellars... Contemporary literature is a calamitous crumbling catafalque of phrases, acrostics and flub-dubs, so dry, so chapped, that not even the maggots come to swarm upon it any more, a cadaver with no tomorrow, lifeless, ghostly, an oozing without color and without horror, more disheartening, more repugnant, a thousand times more disappointing than the most rank, most stark, most bloated, most oozing carrion, a literature in sum more dead that death, infinitely.

>> No.5045382

>>5045348

thanks for reminding me how mediocre and try-hard celine is.

>> No.5045393

>>5044403
>unreeling landscape
God, I love him.

>> No.5045520

>>5044796
Just because something is different/non-uniform does not mean it is sloppy.