I read this book while hang-gliding over the coast of Liechtenstein. It was difficult to grip the jacket of the book, not only because I was airborne,I read this book while hang-gliding over the coast of Liechtenstein. It was difficult to grip the jacket of the book, not only because I was airborne, but because the night before I was in Moscow having vodka and gasoline with Luis San Baptista Rodolfo Sr., a ex-foot soldier for the Revolutionary FALN, and my head was POUNDING! I told Luis over a dinner (red cabbage over braised Skeletor Dolls) I had never seen the last episode of Family Ties, and he instantly grew furious, and cried out, "Matushka! Matushka! My cauliflower is on fire!" and thrust a copy of "Waiting for Godot" into my pocket, and whispered into my big toe, "Listen, my friend, I only have a credit card, so I put on my visa and you give me cash, no?"
I immediately understood Luis' implicit instructions: the only proper way to read Beckett truly, to feel the power of his words, is to do so while manning non-mechanical aircraft.
At first, I found Beckett's dramatic universe too glib, even watery, like a Burmese jungle cat. I found the dialogue too reliant upon the use of words. I thought the use of characters instead of sandwiches or tuxedos was trite and derivative. I also found the verdant pastures of Liechtenstein simply enchanting from an aerial point of view. Several times, I found myself questioning my decision to question my decision to use McDonald's wrappers from the Basque Region for the material of my hang-glider's wings, but then I realized, that's the point: having no discernible narrative thru-line is STILL a narrative thru-line all the same. Beckett's brilliance touched me at last. (But without permission, so I'm suing him in the Hague.)
So, I'm giving this a 5. Not a strong five. But not a weak five either. The sort of 5 that actively worked out for the high school rugby team, but then spent college taking it easy, drinking Irish Car Bombs, and now, years later plays Ultimate Frisbee on the weekends and sometimes runs in Central Park in the evenings, if not doing Bikram Yoga in Soho....more
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