The endless question.
I took this blog’s title from Samuel Beckett’s final poem.
While I generally dislike interpreting texts biographically (Roland Barthes’s “Death of an Author” successfully seduced me several years ago), there’s something to be said for knowing that this is Beckett’s deathbed work. This profound question, that of course within the text is never posed as a question, that works on multiple levels (“what” is the word, what is the word?) seems to me to be the major problematic within the study of literature. Beckett repeats it, over and over again; we all repeat it. It’s the question we ask in every critique and essay, and the statement we always return to: the word that matters.
Of course, we could make a case for “how is the word”, too.
The full poem is underneath the cut.
What is the Word
folly -
folly for to -
for to -
what is the word -
folly from this -
all this -
folly from all this -
given -
folly given all this -
seeing -
folly seeing all this -
this -
what is the word -
this this -
this this here -
all this this here -
folly given all this -
seeing -
folly seeing all this this here -
for to -
what is the word -
see -
glimpse -
seem to glimpse -
need to seem to glimpse -
folly for to need to seem to glimpse -
what -
what is the word -
and where -
folly for to need to seem to glimpse what where -
where -
what is the word -
there -
over there -
away over there -
afar -
afar away over there -
afaint -
afaint afar away over there what -
what -
what is the word -
seeing all this -
all this this -
all this this here -
folly for to see what -
glimpse -
seem to glimpse -
need to seem to glimpse -
afaint afar away over there what -
folly for to need to seem to glimpse afaint afar away over there what -
what -
what is the word -what is the word
