Oldal 143 [143]
GÁBOR ROMHÁNYI TÖRÖK
For the centenary in 2006 I succeeded in having the Three Novels republished,
this time finely bound, and took it to Reading to show in the week-long
celebrations during which numerous world-famous ‘Beckettologists’ delivered
lectures. There I also made the acquaintance of Edward Beckett. In the spring
of the year 2001 I spent a month in Dublin at my own expense, to study his
correspondence in the archive of Trinity College, the university where Beckett
once studied. There too the word “Reading” worked wonders, as when it was
spoken the required documents were readily placed at my disposal. After the
publication of Knowlson’s biography of Beckett it became known that in the
mid-1930s he had lived for almost two years in London in order to consult a
now famous psychiatrist three times a week. Although no record or document
was made of the sessions — or Beckett destroyed it in the meantime —
numerous authorities and literary experts consider that the source of several
of his later works is to be found in this analysis; indeed, that this explains the
cardinal fact that ten years later he seemed consciously to “suppress” his native
language and compose his work in French. That is only a work hypothesis, but
the question is too complex for us to adopt a unanimous position in answering
it. The point is that this incomparable material exists in two forms, French
and English. A number of points in his later work give grounds for this slight
“error,” and this view is justified in the difficult sphere of the analysis of Beckett
texts; nevertheless its conclusiveness is open to question.
At the start of this article 1 mentioned that the alpha of my connection with
Beckett’s work was Krapp’s Last Tape. Its omega, however, has been a prose¬
poem of the elderly author’s, Mal vu mal dit/Ill Seen Ill Said. The temptation
of comparative analysis is strong. Both masterpieces were conceived in the
melancholy of farewell and mourning and both were inspired by (the memory
of) a great love. The latter is the memory of a beloved and hated woman
of whom the writer thought most in her life and after her death, whom in
this piece of writing he sees dying, then in death, whom he resurrects, then
watches her die again and this time he too dies with her — forever.
Farewell to farewell. Then in that perfect dark foreknell darling sound pip for end
begun. First last moment. Grant only enough remain to devour all. Moment by
glutton moment. Sky earth the whole kit and boodle. Not another crumb of carrion
left. Lick chops and basta. No. One moment more. One last. Grace to breathe that
void. Know happiness."
For the moment I am planning to write an essay on Ill Seen Ill Said. Steven
Connor wrote, “For many writers, Samuel Beckett becomes a kind of life
1 Samuel Beckett: Ill Seen Ill Said, London, Calder, 1982, 58.
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