Rating: 
Summary: Funny, funny, funny!
Review: It can't be only me who thinks that the academic approach to this book is deadly. Loosen up, people! A Beckett character can be lying alone in the dark paralyzed and STILL find a whole lot of humor in the situation. All we have here is the opportunity to savor another comic masterpiece and all we can do is "show our learning" and try to ensure that no one sane will want to read it? Relax and learn to laugh! Beckett, like Joyce, was unbelievably well-read and there are infinite allusions to everything academic in all his books. So? Therefore? I have a sneaking feeling that some of the people who "get" the scholastic references simply don't "get" the joke.
Rating: 
Summary: Molloy gets 5 stars, the rest zero
Review: It is a great literary ploy when a writer of a high degree of capability, but lacking the right experiences and insight into humanity, appeals to the problem of narration and consciousness as an excuse to write aimlessly. Reading Gabriel Josipovici's introduction to the Everyman Library edition of Molloy/Malone Dies/The Unnamable, one would think that the very fate of mankind depended on whether Samuel Beckett succeeded in finding the right point of view to narrate a novel. It is one thing to admire art as many of us do, and quite another to make wildly extravagant claims about its relevance to common readers. Josipovici and Becket may have a fetish for novels and writing, but I think the reading public, the people who grant writers like Becket their livelihood and fame, have a vastly different perspective on the matter. The Molloy section of the Novel is quite good. Part one of Molloy is the testimony of an old man, probably a vagrant. He is self-admittedly a not-even-close-to-being reliable witness to his own account and the document we are reading is presumably his actual, physical, written output. The narration is a fiction of course and not Beckett's own autobiographical voice; it is this accomplishment that makes it so wonderful. Our narrator puts little stock in "things as they seem", to borrow a phrase from Wallace Stevens. Therefore, what we read in Molloy we can never be sure of as having actually taken place, on a fictional plain that is. This can make for some delightful reading. The narrator can whimsically change his mind about a statement he makes or fact he gives, or break his train of thought and change subjects on a dime, or make ironic interjections and self-contradictory assertions. Molloy part one is a coherent, real story. Here is a real person that the reader can relate to. The writing pulls the reader along because the fate of this man calls our attention to him in his testimony. Part two of Molloy is simpy great literature. If you read nothing else in this book, simply read Molloy part two, which can easily stand-alone. Again we have a testimonial of a most interesting and human character. There is immense richness and nuance to him. He is not a pleasant fellow but he is a reliable narrator. Once again we have to remember we are not reading something written to be a self-conscious novel; but we do have a story-line and progression that demands our attention until the last sentence. What I gathered from Molloy, taken as a whole, was that Beckett wanted to say something about narration that Josipocivi explains quite well in the introduction. I guess I just don't care about it though. The mystery or problem is not compelling to me. I make the point only because there is really no other reasons to view the two parts of Molloy as part of the same whole structure. The prose was enough for me. The two sections titled Malone Dies and The Unnamable are aimless forays into the realms of consciousness and pure subjectivity. Call it adventures in solipsism, or, think what a novel by Wallace Stevens might be like. I did not like them for the sole reason I just did not find any of it interesting. Malone Dies goes in several directions at the same time, circling back, sideways, up, down, as does The Unnamable, with the addition in that section of other dimensions. It is nothing more than a garbage dump for all of Beckett's postulations on consciousness, identity, death, etc... To be honest I did not read it all that carefully because it could never hold my attention for more than a few pages at a time. It is incredibly dull. Read Sartre's Being and Nothingness if you want good reading on ontology. This is dribble.
Rating:
Summary: I can't read on...
Review: It is easy to criticize what you don't understand, have never tried, or never lived -- and then make a balls of it. The writing of Beckett -- all of Beckett -- is a discovery of change in literature, in writing, and philosophy. Discovery is failure, pleasure, fun, and game. This is not the same as any other book, and there is its originality, its life-breath and its passion. If you don't enjoy reading it, for god's sake put it down. It isn't for everyone, but for those whom it is, you'll read on...
Rating:
Summary: The ultimate prose distillation
Review: It's a pity more people don't read Beckett and cannot seem to enjoy him. The trilogy stands right up there with Ulysses as perhaps the greatest work of the century. With Beckett, who needs a plot? Prose has never been more austerely beautiful and never will be again, after Beckett. Yes, there are some maddening scenes in these three inter-related novels and, yes, there is no conventional "plot," but what we have is a distillation of the bare-boned dilemma of existence. When sad, pathetic, tormented Malone (let's not kid ourselves, he's Everyman) lies in his forlorn room watching the sky from his window, there is no more beautiful poetry in the English language. The moon, in Beckett, is truly the moon. At his very greatest, when he is wringing that stark, cold cosmic beauty from despair, Beckett is the finest writer of the century, better even than Joyce. Such a sad shame that this great trilogy will never be read or appreciated except by such few people. It's just the best there is. Period.
Rating:
Summary: Words words words
Review: It's hard to top Beckett when it comes to sheer density of prose. His trilogy here is considered one of the greatest sets of novels in the 20th century, and it's a rightly deserved reputation. Here Beckett does two neat tricks over the course of the three books, first he gradually strips the story down to its very essence, that being words and sentences and phrases to the point where the story is almost pure thought processes. Second, and this is probably harder, he manages the trick of taking an absolutely bleak view of life and making it absolutely hilarious. Through absurd situations, witty asides and just general black humor there are fewer works of literature that will literally have you laughing out loud while forcing you to confront the possible pointlessness of life. At no point is any of this easy reading, Beckett's prose can be politely described as relentless and the words just keep coming, maintaining an odd, jerky sort of rhythm that manages to pull you along so that the books read much faster than you might expect. And even though it's a trilogy mostly in spirit, there are some definite progressions from book to book. Molloy is the easiest to read and makes the most sense, even if its circuitiousness can be madly frustrating sometimes. And for some reason Beckett pulls an absolutely bizarre switch halfway through that I'm not smart enough to understand. But for the most part it's fairly accessable. Malone Dies is as bleak as the name implies and is probably the funniest in a black humour sort of way. I actually found this one easiest to understand though, but that's probably not the case with everyone. And then you hit the last book The Unnamable (which I saw someone jokingly once refer to as "The Unreadable") which brings Beckett to the absolute pinnacle of his style. There's barely any description to give the reader a visual image, and whatever descriptions there are always shift, never staying still. The novel is pure thought, a series of knotted sentences managing to convey a whole range of emotions and somehow achieving a strange beauty in the process. The final few words of the novel probably sum Beckett up just as much as anything else. These aren't novels you read for plot, but for the writing and his prose makes it all worthwhile. For those readers who don't mind doing a little work in their reading to be rewarded, Beckett is probably the place to go. This trilogy stands as one of the more uniquely beautiful pieces of the 20th century. The Nobel Prize was justly deserved.
Rating:
Summary: Words words words
Review: It's hard to top Beckett when it comes to sheer density of prose. His trilogy here is considered one of the greatest sets of novels in the 20th century, and it's a rightly deserved reputation. Here Beckett does two neat tricks over the course of the three books, first he gradually strips the story down to its very essence, that being words and sentences and phrases to the point where the story is almost pure thought processes. Second, and this is probably harder, he manages the trick of taking an absolutely bleak view of life and making it absolutely hilarious. Through absurd situations, witty asides and just general black humor there are fewer works of literature that will literally have you laughing out loud while forcing you to confront the possible pointlessness of life. At no point is any of this easy reading, Beckett's prose can be politely described as relentless and the words just keep coming, maintaining an odd, jerky sort of rhythm that manages to pull you along so that the books read much faster than you might expect. And even though it's a trilogy mostly in spirit, there are some definite progressions from book to book. Molloy is the easiest to read and makes the most sense, even if its circuitiousness can be madly frustrating sometimes. And for some reason Beckett pulls an absolutely bizarre switch halfway through that I'm not smart enough to understand. But for the most part it's fairly accessable. Malone Dies is as bleak as the name implies and is probably the funniest in a black humour sort of way. I actually found this one easiest to understand though, but that's probably not the case with everyone. And then you hit the last book The Unnamable (which I saw someone jokingly once refer to as "The Unreadable") which brings Beckett to the absolute pinnacle of his style. There's barely any description to give the reader a visual image, and whatever descriptions there are always shift, never staying still. The novel is pure thought, a series of knotted sentences managing to convey a whole range of emotions and somehow achieving a strange beauty in the process. The final few words of the novel probably sum Beckett up just as much as anything else. These aren't novels you read for plot, but for the writing and his prose makes it all worthwhile. For those readers who don't mind doing a little work in their reading to be rewarded, Beckett is probably the place to go. This trilogy stands as one of the more uniquely beautiful pieces of the 20th century. The Nobel Prize was justly deserved.
Rating:
Summary: A Brilliant Experience of Language
Review: Many do not even know that Beckett wrote novels; these are his finest. Molloy itself is a masterpiece of stream-of-consciousness modernism--linking a simple vagabond named Molloy, with a lofty mind, to a sinister agent corrupt in thought sent to find Molloy. As the controlled agent gets closer to who Molloy is, he himself begins to fall apart and see life differently. Malone Dies is simply the mental construction of a dying man seeking to fill out his last living moments with three imaginative "stories." All three of these novels are immersed in words and are more an experience of language. The unnamable is truly that, nothing is specified or real, but in a fictive, engrossing manner, Beckett attempts to describe the unnamble in human life without ever naming it. Each of these books are amazing independently, but they deserve to be read as a whole as they form an engrossing and closed trilogy. If you read this, you will read language crafted by Beckett which communicates the unimaginable--thoughts close to everyman, but thoughts which you thought were inexpressible with language. Don't be wary of the language, this is a reading experience that will take you whole and speedily through the pages.
Rating: 
Summary: trivializes and debases the geriatric mind
Review: Presumes to lay bare the geriatric mind, but comes nowhere near. Based on the ludicrous proposition that the aging process is hellish and unnatural. Beckett is the true godfather of MTV.
Rating:
Summary: Bad Psychology
Review: Regarding the statements made in samm2's review below, I am not familiar with the school of psychology that deems it valid to judge someone's sanity based on a work of fiction he or she created. Really, this claim is a blatant fallacy, perhaps indicating the reader should spend more time with the text before bombastically labeling the author a schizophrenic. Beckett is no provider of instant gratification -- he teaches us to dig deeper, into the places where both pain and happiness are enmeshed and inseparable. Yes, all his work displays more or less the same themes -- this is what is called artistic vision, and the astute reader will know not confuse it with mental illness.
Rating:
Summary: Bad Psychology
Review: Regarding the statements made in samm2's review below, I am not familiar with the school of psychology that deems it valid to judge someone's sanity based on a work of fiction he or she created. Really, this claim is a blatant fallacy, perhaps indicating the reader should spend more time with the text before bombastically labeling the author a schizophrenic. Beckett is no provider of instant gratification -- he teaches us to dig deeper, into the places where both pain and happiness are enmeshed and inseparable. Yes, all his work displays more or less the same themes -- this is what is called artistic vision, and the astute reader will know not confuse it with mental illness.
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