Samuel Beckett upsets me with his abilities. These were originally in French, Beckett’s second language, though I read the versions translated by him. And even in translation, they have a flow and style that feels unique, and very Beckett. Beckett loves the destitute and the men who never quite fit in, and he does them wonderful service in these four tiny stories, each containing much more than that which their page count would attest. These are dense, and they are lovely. However, Beckett does fall down occasionally, and eventually these stories began to blend, as Beckett sticks quite closely to themes. While he is a great stylist, he should look into a new subject sometime.
3.5/5
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