I noticed someone else writing in a weekend paper in the last week or so about wearing jumpers instead of using the heating. Is that a form of recycling I wonder?
Dear Pack Leader,
Wonder if you’d be interested in joining “Barbi” – Bloggers against rank Beckettian Intellectualism? We need someone with strong media skills to help counter the cultural obesity that is our blind overindulgence of Godot et al.
You have to help us – or else we’ll be forced to elect Fiona Looney as our cultural attache.
Perhaps I’m getting old and humourless, but I don’t find it hilarious. I don’t know much about The Onion, but I’ve been told that it is cutting-edge satire stuff. The article might have fitted the bill – if it had appeared several decades ago. Now, it just seems lame, dated, derivative, and generally a bit pathetic and pointless. Still, if you find it funny, fine.
Have you seen/read much Beckett, by the way? Just curious.
What I find odd is the juxtaposition of The Onion piece, basically a sneer at literary criticism and what might be termed high culture, with an article in which you attempt to apply the vocabulary of serious literary criticism to a television programme.
From what I have seen of The Sopranos it is engaging enough, though the writing and characterisation seems essentially formulaic, fluently assembled and well-crafted in the way of the best American television programmes, the collective product of many intelligent and genuinely creative writers, directors, script advisers etc. It pays homage to most of the predictable stereotypes, leavened with touches of irony to appeal to the self-conscious intelligence of the more sophisticated members of a mass television audience.
Frankly, from my (limited) viewing of it, there is not a great deal that is authentic about it. What I mean by that is that one does not get from it the sense of genuine emotional experience and revelation that one might get from, for example, a single exchange in a Beckett play. In fact, in Annie Ryan’s superb recent production of Come And Go at the Gate, I reckon that I experienced something infinitely more evocative in moments of silence between the dialogue than I could hope to derive from watching every episode of The Sopranos from beginning to end.
In that respect, the tired “blank pages” joke carries more resonance than the author might have known.
Of course it’s not compulsory to like or admire Beckett, but if you really think that it is instructive to devote time and thought to something as transient as The Sopranos perhaps you might also find an hour or two to give Beckett a chance to grab you?
Oh dear, I suppose I should consider my mass television audience wrists soundly slapped. OK, well first of all, you are a dreadful curmugdeon. The Onion link was sent to me by a TERRIBLY clever friend who LOVES Beckett, so at least I can be sure that finding the humour in The Onion (if not in Beckett) is not the sole preserve of the thick.
Secondy, you make many accurate points, which only make them all the more irritating but I’ll start with my personal experience of Beckett which was a wonderful production ( I suppose the Gate) of Waiting for Godot. It’s not that I didn’t get it. Of course I got it. But I got it in 10 minutes and then had to sit through the rest of, what was, of course, great and funny dialogue, but really, I felt I was being lectured. Another TERRIBLY clever friend ( I have LOTS of TERRIBLY clever friends to improve and annoy me) says that I MUST read the novels so I will give those a go. The same friend says that “Beckett eventually disappeared up his own fundament but he left a body of timeless work”.
If truth be told I have a general prejudice against the whole alienated existential man banging on and on about the pointlessness of life. In that I include not just Beckett, but Sartre, Camus and even that bore Richard Ford. So they may be making a fundamental and even accurate point that life is a pile of shit but so what? This is the life we must live and wandering around complaining about it while smoking a lot and being cold and unemotional towards everyone else because they might not exist and then killing someone (I forget why – the act is everything? you want to feel something?) it’s just, well, as pointless as the life they seem to think is completely worthless. Anyway , that’s why I always preferred to de Beauvoir to Sartre, she was so PRACTICAL about her existentialism. She addressed (imho) the consequences of the act on people’s lives. So I WILL be a good girl and go read my Beckett, but I dread it.
Now The Sopranos. The final scene of Thursday’s episode is a perfect example of the authentic experience. It’s cut between two separate scenes. In one, Tony sits outside observing the wind in the trees and feeling the air on his face after his amazing survival. He recognises the simple miracle that is life and how good the basic things are. Meanwhile, Paulie is beating the shit out of the idiot who sold the garbage business without Tony’s permission which has caused them hassle. His rage is driven by the fact that he has discovered his aunt is his mother, his “mother” has lied to him and he witnessed the mother of his victim beg for her son’s life. It’s a completely irrational act driven entirely by a sense of betrayal and anger. That was bloody authentic. I’ve seen that before (not that violence – but the anger directed at a third party). And I’ve had moments like Tony’s before and indeed the next morning I was outside with lots of things on my mind and I forced myself to look up and around, as Tony did, and appreciate good old mother nature. I felt better immediately. Long live Tony!
There’s not much to get. They are waiting. He doesn’t show. Twice. They repeat the same lines over and over again. Oooh – it’s just like life. Endlessly and mindlessly repeating the same old drivel over and over…..duh. The capitals are merely an emphasis. If I was talking I’d say, for instance, “terribly” in a slightly posher accent and with a slight edge.
If you really felt that you were being lectured, then I’m quite sure that you did not see “a wonderful production” of Waiting For Godot, in whatever accent you want to adopt, but a very poor one. I have never thought that there is anything didactic about Godot, and any production which left you believing that your were being lectured was a failure.
At the risk of sounding condescending, I think the clue lies in your reply to Leon, which suggests to me that not only did you not “get it” (whatever that means), but that you approached it with flawed pre-conceptions. I suspect that this stems from the way that literature tends to be taught, with a concentration on labels such as “existentialism”, and an obsession with the mechanics of literary form, instead of encouraging people to respond to the text in an individual way.
In the same way, I think you miss the point about Camus, who ended up rejecting the existentialist tag in any case. I think it’s a mistake to read his novels in the terms that you ascribe. Sartre is certainly more intrinsically didactic, and de Beauvoir is just a bit too propagandist for my liking, though in both cases the novels are accessible, entertaining and by no means one-dimensional.
See, this is what pisses me off. If I said I didn’t like ANYTHING else, say a book by (quick check on my bookshelf) Gore Vidal, Ian McEwan, Margaret Atwood, Gabriela Garcia Marquez, the reaction would be muted and simply assume that everyone has their own taste, each to their own bla bla bla. It’s only when you criticise Beckett, that you are accused of not giving him a chance, missing the point, or generally not being clever enough to like him. You are never allowed to say, “I think Beckett’s boring” without having to face the tyranny of the intellectuals. That Gate production of Waiting for Godot is renowned by the way. HOWEVER, I have bought Murphy. I have to read another book right now for review but once that’s done, I’ll get into Murphy. If I promise to give it a good shot, I think I should be allowed to say I don’t like without there being an assumption of any mental shortcomings on my part.
And Tom, Richard Ford – how about the way he only refers to his ex-wife as X in The Sportswriter..never even gives her a name. If that doesn’t make him a classic example of “Mr Alienated can’t connect with humans”, then I don’t know what is.
Hi Sarah,
The (fictional) narrator of the novel refers to his wife as “X”. And he IS “Mr. alienated can’t connect with humans”, or at least he has great difficulty connecting with humans. That’s the point.
I know. That’s just what I find tedious. Do you not think it is legitimate for me NOT to like it? Approve of me, Tom, approve of me! Tell me its OK not to like it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m afraid you may be guilty of the same sort of tactic that Mary Hanafin has employed against you, since I stated specifically in my first posting that it was “not compulsory” to be a fan. I was also happy to allude to other writers whose names you raised, so it is simply not true that it is only Bec ett (i have a letter not wor ing on my eyboard, this is not some sort of literary in-jo e for intellectuals) who engenders this sort of response.
A few questions for you. Not compulsory to respond, but it might be interesting.
Do you normally employ the word “intellectual” with a pejorative connotation?
When you say that the production of Godot that you saw was “renowned”, what exactly are you trying to convey?
Carrying on from the second question, do you believe it was renowned because,
a) a lot of middle-class Dubliners, and their chief opinion-formers, developed a conspiracy to say that it was brilliant in order to feel smug, intelligent and generally culturally and socially superior?
or
b) because it was genuinely very good theatre, and a great many people were entertained by it, moved by it, or otherwise found it an enriching experience?
I imagine that there may be some truth in a), but I believe that b) provides a more fundamental answer.
Perhaps I’ll take those points in reverse order.
When I say renowned, I mean that when reading the papers or hearing people who know these things talk about them, it seems to be accepted that The Gate production of Waiting for Godot is as close to definitive as one can get. You were originally concerned that I may have seen a poor production of the play and that this may have afffected my opinion of Beckett. And I should stress, that I didn’t HATE it. I could appreciate how clever it was, and yes there were amusing parts and lines. I just felt the point was overmade or more to the point, I have issues with the point in itself, if you know what I mean.
I rarely employ the term intellectual with a pejorative intention and when other people do it bugs me. However, I just can’t help noticing that Beckett is the playright where clever people don’t let me away with saying I find it all very tedious. I can make negative comments about other writers and everyone will settle into a debate on the relative merits of the work or the author. (e.g Garica Marquez and magic realism, some people just aren’t into it, personally I love it. ) But when it comes to Beckett I just find the clever people getting a bit militant on the subject. One is accused of either not getting it or not reading enough. No one ever says, ok, you find it tedious. Fair enough.
I acknowledge your “not compulsory” remark.
Now I have conceded many points and have resolved to read Murphy. Perhaps you should have patience and wait for me to recant?
[...] Regular readers may remember the Beckett discussion here. I thought I should give a progress report. I started Murphy. I regret to say I have felt no inclination to get past page 50. Some points. [...]
Sarah,
Just spend three months in hospital(want to hear my health service experience!)and the first thing I do is try to catch up by reading yr blog and what do I see…. bloody Beckett…I’m in total agreement with you. I’m possibly even more fundamentalist in my ‘it’s a lot of simile and metaphor bollox’. I’ve read Murphy… well done. p. 50!! I’ve tried but…. probably too thick!
Cybez said,
May 1, 2006 at 12:57 pm
Brilliant!
Daniel K. said,
May 1, 2006 at 4:23 pm
I noticed someone else writing in a weekend paper in the last week or so about wearing jumpers instead of using the heating. Is that a form of recycling I wonder?
Sarah said,
May 1, 2006 at 6:27 pm
Excellent. I am ahead of the pack. Everyone has the same ideas – all I need to do is get there first!
blankpaige said,
May 2, 2006 at 11:00 pm
Dear Pack Leader,
Wonder if you’d be interested in joining “Barbi” – Bloggers against rank Beckettian Intellectualism? We need someone with strong media skills to help counter the cultural obesity that is our blind overindulgence of Godot et al.
You have to help us – or else we’ll be forced to elect Fiona Looney as our cultural attache.
Daniel K. said,
May 4, 2006 at 12:15 pm
Cultural Attache? Would that not mean that Fiona Looney was in fact your spymaster?
alan s said,
May 5, 2006 at 11:18 pm
Sarah
Perhaps I’m getting old and humourless, but I don’t find it hilarious. I don’t know much about The Onion, but I’ve been told that it is cutting-edge satire stuff. The article might have fitted the bill – if it had appeared several decades ago. Now, it just seems lame, dated, derivative, and generally a bit pathetic and pointless. Still, if you find it funny, fine.
Have you seen/read much Beckett, by the way? Just curious.
What I find odd is the juxtaposition of The Onion piece, basically a sneer at literary criticism and what might be termed high culture, with an article in which you attempt to apply the vocabulary of serious literary criticism to a television programme.
From what I have seen of The Sopranos it is engaging enough, though the writing and characterisation seems essentially formulaic, fluently assembled and well-crafted in the way of the best American television programmes, the collective product of many intelligent and genuinely creative writers, directors, script advisers etc. It pays homage to most of the predictable stereotypes, leavened with touches of irony to appeal to the self-conscious intelligence of the more sophisticated members of a mass television audience.
Frankly, from my (limited) viewing of it, there is not a great deal that is authentic about it. What I mean by that is that one does not get from it the sense of genuine emotional experience and revelation that one might get from, for example, a single exchange in a Beckett play. In fact, in Annie Ryan’s superb recent production of Come And Go at the Gate, I reckon that I experienced something infinitely more evocative in moments of silence between the dialogue than I could hope to derive from watching every episode of The Sopranos from beginning to end.
In that respect, the tired “blank pages” joke carries more resonance than the author might have known.
Of course it’s not compulsory to like or admire Beckett, but if you really think that it is instructive to devote time and thought to something as transient as The Sopranos perhaps you might also find an hour or two to give Beckett a chance to grab you?
alan s
Sarah said,
May 7, 2006 at 8:01 pm
Oh dear, I suppose I should consider my mass television audience wrists soundly slapped. OK, well first of all, you are a dreadful curmugdeon. The Onion link was sent to me by a TERRIBLY clever friend who LOVES Beckett, so at least I can be sure that finding the humour in The Onion (if not in Beckett) is not the sole preserve of the thick.
Secondy, you make many accurate points, which only make them all the more irritating but I’ll start with my personal experience of Beckett which was a wonderful production ( I suppose the Gate) of Waiting for Godot. It’s not that I didn’t get it. Of course I got it. But I got it in 10 minutes and then had to sit through the rest of, what was, of course, great and funny dialogue, but really, I felt I was being lectured. Another TERRIBLY clever friend ( I have LOTS of TERRIBLY clever friends to improve and annoy me) says that I MUST read the novels so I will give those a go. The same friend says that “Beckett eventually disappeared up his own fundament but he left a body of timeless work”.
If truth be told I have a general prejudice against the whole alienated existential man banging on and on about the pointlessness of life. In that I include not just Beckett, but Sartre, Camus and even that bore Richard Ford. So they may be making a fundamental and even accurate point that life is a pile of shit but so what? This is the life we must live and wandering around complaining about it while smoking a lot and being cold and unemotional towards everyone else because they might not exist and then killing someone (I forget why – the act is everything? you want to feel something?) it’s just, well, as pointless as the life they seem to think is completely worthless. Anyway , that’s why I always preferred to de Beauvoir to Sartre, she was so PRACTICAL about her existentialism. She addressed (imho) the consequences of the act on people’s lives. So I WILL be a good girl and go read my Beckett, but I dread it.
Now The Sopranos. The final scene of Thursday’s episode is a perfect example of the authentic experience. It’s cut between two separate scenes. In one, Tony sits outside observing the wind in the trees and feeling the air on his face after his amazing survival. He recognises the simple miracle that is life and how good the basic things are. Meanwhile, Paulie is beating the shit out of the idiot who sold the garbage business without Tony’s permission which has caused them hassle. His rage is driven by the fact that he has discovered his aunt is his mother, his “mother” has lied to him and he witnessed the mother of his victim beg for her son’s life. It’s a completely irrational act driven entirely by a sense of betrayal and anger. That was bloody authentic. I’ve seen that before (not that violence – but the anger directed at a third party). And I’ve had moments like Tony’s before and indeed the next morning I was outside with lots of things on my mind and I forced myself to look up and around, as Tony did, and appreciate good old mother nature. I felt better immediately. Long live Tony!
Leon said,
May 8, 2006 at 5:09 pm
wow Sarah that’s pretty impressive. You GOT Beckett in 10 minutes (what’s with all the capital letters).
Sarah said,
May 8, 2006 at 5:31 pm
There’s not much to get. They are waiting. He doesn’t show. Twice. They repeat the same lines over and over again. Oooh – it’s just like life. Endlessly and mindlessly repeating the same old drivel over and over…..duh. The capitals are merely an emphasis. If I was talking I’d say, for instance, “terribly” in a slightly posher accent and with a slight edge.
alan s said,
May 9, 2006 at 11:14 am
Sarah,
If you really felt that you were being lectured, then I’m quite sure that you did not see “a wonderful production” of Waiting For Godot, in whatever accent you want to adopt, but a very poor one. I have never thought that there is anything didactic about Godot, and any production which left you believing that your were being lectured was a failure.
At the risk of sounding condescending, I think the clue lies in your reply to Leon, which suggests to me that not only did you not “get it” (whatever that means), but that you approached it with flawed pre-conceptions. I suspect that this stems from the way that literature tends to be taught, with a concentration on labels such as “existentialism”, and an obsession with the mechanics of literary form, instead of encouraging people to respond to the text in an individual way.
In the same way, I think you miss the point about Camus, who ended up rejecting the existentialist tag in any case. I think it’s a mistake to read his novels in the terms that you ascribe. Sartre is certainly more intrinsically didactic, and de Beauvoir is just a bit too propagandist for my liking, though in both cases the novels are accessible, entertaining and by no means one-dimensional.
alan s
tom said,
May 12, 2006 at 4:54 pm
Richard Ford isn’t a bore either. I really like Richard Ford.
Sarah said,
May 14, 2006 at 8:10 pm
See, this is what pisses me off. If I said I didn’t like ANYTHING else, say a book by (quick check on my bookshelf) Gore Vidal, Ian McEwan, Margaret Atwood, Gabriela Garcia Marquez, the reaction would be muted and simply assume that everyone has their own taste, each to their own bla bla bla. It’s only when you criticise Beckett, that you are accused of not giving him a chance, missing the point, or generally not being clever enough to like him. You are never allowed to say, “I think Beckett’s boring” without having to face the tyranny of the intellectuals. That Gate production of Waiting for Godot is renowned by the way. HOWEVER, I have bought Murphy. I have to read another book right now for review but once that’s done, I’ll get into Murphy. If I promise to give it a good shot, I think I should be allowed to say I don’t like without there being an assumption of any mental shortcomings on my part.
And Tom, Richard Ford – how about the way he only refers to his ex-wife as X in The Sportswriter..never even gives her a name. If that doesn’t make him a classic example of “Mr Alienated can’t connect with humans”, then I don’t know what is.
tom said,
May 16, 2006 at 11:59 am
Hi Sarah,
The (fictional) narrator of the novel refers to his wife as “X”. And he IS “Mr. alienated can’t connect with humans”, or at least he has great difficulty connecting with humans. That’s the point.
Sarah said,
May 16, 2006 at 12:29 pm
I know. That’s just what I find tedious. Do you not think it is legitimate for me NOT to like it? Approve of me, Tom, approve of me! Tell me its OK not to like it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
alan s said,
May 16, 2006 at 2:30 pm
Sarah,
I’m afraid you may be guilty of the same sort of tactic that Mary Hanafin has employed against you, since I stated specifically in my first posting that it was “not compulsory” to be a fan. I was also happy to allude to other writers whose names you raised, so it is simply not true that it is only Bec ett (i have a letter not wor ing on my eyboard, this is not some sort of literary in-jo e for intellectuals) who engenders this sort of response.
A few questions for you. Not compulsory to respond, but it might be interesting.
Do you normally employ the word “intellectual” with a pejorative connotation?
When you say that the production of Godot that you saw was “renowned”, what exactly are you trying to convey?
Carrying on from the second question, do you believe it was renowned because,
a) a lot of middle-class Dubliners, and their chief opinion-formers, developed a conspiracy to say that it was brilliant in order to feel smug, intelligent and generally culturally and socially superior?
or
b) because it was genuinely very good theatre, and a great many people were entertained by it, moved by it, or otherwise found it an enriching experience?
I imagine that there may be some truth in a), but I believe that b) provides a more fundamental answer.
Sarah said,
May 16, 2006 at 3:37 pm
Perhaps I’ll take those points in reverse order.
When I say renowned, I mean that when reading the papers or hearing people who know these things talk about them, it seems to be accepted that The Gate production of Waiting for Godot is as close to definitive as one can get. You were originally concerned that I may have seen a poor production of the play and that this may have afffected my opinion of Beckett. And I should stress, that I didn’t HATE it. I could appreciate how clever it was, and yes there were amusing parts and lines. I just felt the point was overmade or more to the point, I have issues with the point in itself, if you know what I mean.
I rarely employ the term intellectual with a pejorative intention and when other people do it bugs me. However, I just can’t help noticing that Beckett is the playright where clever people don’t let me away with saying I find it all very tedious. I can make negative comments about other writers and everyone will settle into a debate on the relative merits of the work or the author. (e.g Garica Marquez and magic realism, some people just aren’t into it, personally I love it. ) But when it comes to Beckett I just find the clever people getting a bit militant on the subject. One is accused of either not getting it or not reading enough. No one ever says, ok, you find it tedious. Fair enough.
I acknowledge your “not compulsory” remark.
Now I have conceded many points and have resolved to read Murphy. Perhaps you should have patience and wait for me to recant?
GUBU » Beckett said,
June 27, 2006 at 11:07 am
[...] Regular readers may remember the Beckett discussion here. I thought I should give a progress report. I started Murphy. I regret to say I have felt no inclination to get past page 50. Some points. [...]
angela said,
June 29, 2006 at 12:35 pm
Sarah,
Just spend three months in hospital(want to hear my health service experience!)and the first thing I do is try to catch up by reading yr blog and what do I see…. bloody Beckett…I’m in total agreement with you. I’m possibly even more fundamentalist in my ‘it’s a lot of simile and metaphor bollox’. I’ve read Murphy… well done. p. 50!! I’ve tried but…. probably too thick!
Angela