December 22nd (1989-2012)
To close friend Romanian Paris-born small-time philosopher EM Cioran who wondered how Beckett with such gloomy ideas and thoughts could live with himself, Suzanne, Mrs Samuel Beckett said, "Beckett has another side."
In the light of this remark by Suzanne, the entire corpus of writing on Beckett, including three very well researched and authored Beckett biographies, deals only with the Beckett the world at large knows, but not with the Beckett of the other side whom only Suzanne Beckett knew. “It follows as the day the night,” to quote from Hamlet, all writing on Beckett has dealt with Beckett at face value, whereas Suzanne's remark gives us the essential Beckett. Hence, Suzanne's one short succinct sentence bears meaning and significance more than what has been written on him. Suzanne's one sentence overweighs the, to quote Estragon, “billions” of sentences written on Beckett. What has been written on him gives us sun-lit physical facts of known-to-all sides of Beckett, whereas Suzanne's one sentence gives us a colourful picture of the dim metaphysical mysteries of the known-to-her-only other side of Beckett. What the other side of Beckett is, only Suzanne could know, but none of us, we, to quote Hamlet, “fools of nature,” could know.
Like when Horatio suggesting to Marcellus and Bernardo to sit down and discuss the meaning of why Denmark is too busy in a way that work is not separating weekends from weekdays, I say, let us sit to consider to know and understand Beckett's other side which seems to be a side, and here I once more pilfer from the great Bard, Hamlet's remark to Horatio, "undreamt of in all" books on Beckett. And once again, as in another phrase from the great Bard as in this bit of dialogue in Hamlet: Bernardo: "What, is Horatio there?", and Horatio replies: "A piece of him", Suzanne told the world that it only sees a piece of Beckett! The entire Beckett situation churns into a mystery of the type of Hamlet's father's ghost who overshadows a play whose major theme is mystery. As Beckett, deep in his heart, knew that anything to be written on him was going to be stuff and nonsense in the light of Suzanne’s one sentence remark, no wonder he warned Bair, his first biographer, that he would read her book on him neither before not after it is published, and saying "Yes" to second biographer Knowlson about a biography, stipulated that the book was to be published after his and wife Suzanne's deaths, and, of course, Beckett had died before Anthony Cronin's biography was out.
Suzanne's one sentence, let me harp on this notion, eclipses the entire corpus of Beckett scholarship. No wonder, Beckett all his life-time long abhorred scholars, critics and university professors who tried to interpret his writings. He preferred a commonplace down-to-earth understanding of his works to sophisticated self-consciously-phrased researches by people full of themselves. “Crrrrrrrritics”, to quote Vladimir
Attending a rehearsal of WAITING FOR GODOT accompanied by Alan Schneider, Beckett during the show would every now and the whisper in Irish accent to Schneider about the director saying, "He hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng." Indeed to each university professor applies Beckett's whisper. "He hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng." In the final analysis, Beckett’s situation, hence, is like that in ENDGAME, when answering Hamm's question about how things were on the horizon, Clov says:” Zero”. Likewise, all attempts and claims, especially by university professors, to have understood and interpreted Beckett correctly are Zero. And Zero is part of university business of professors whom Beckett loathed and despised, as Zero is given as a mark to students who fail in tests. Beckett gave up teaching because he found out that he was teaching things he himself didn’t understand. Wish Beckett university professors realized this fact, and if they were the true genuine Beckettians they claim to be, let them as Beckett himself did: give up teaching. Beckett knew about this at the outset, and that is why he prescribed Aspirin to those who sought exegeses. Therefore, on this day 22nd December 2012 which is Saturday but when he died on 22nd December 1989 it was Friday, and he was born on Friday 13th April 1906, so his life was typical of his mode of thought that he died on the same day when he was born and to this applies Pozzo’s remark to Vladimir, “Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time…. One day we are born, one day we shall die, the same day”, I say, on this day 22nd December, 23rd anniversary of death of Beckett, my message to all teams of Beckett scholarship is: “Have done tormenting the old man in his grave with your writing on him. It is time you abandoned writing more stuff and nonsense on him as himself thought of all writing, his included, as ‘a stain on the surface of silence.’”
I am sure, in his grave, good old Sam would feel happy about this conclusion, and this is my homage to dear Sam, on the anniversary of his death on 22nd December 1989, a homage that, to some, may sound peculiarly idiosyncratic, nay absurd, in a true Samuel Beckett manner.
To quote Hamm, “old staunch, [I] remain”, the true genuine Beckettian who, taking after Beckett, gave up teaching over a decade ago, and ceased writing on him, nonetheless, keep reading what is written on him just to amuse myself with the secret joy of considering how the writer “hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng”!,
Siddeek Tawfeek,
Arabian of Beckettia
To close friend Romanian Paris-born small-time philosopher EM Cioran who wondered how Beckett with such gloomy ideas and thoughts could live with himself, Suzanne, Mrs Samuel Beckett said, "Beckett has another side."
In the light of this remark by Suzanne, the entire corpus of writing on Beckett, including three very well researched and authored Beckett biographies, deals only with the Beckett the world at large knows, but not with the Beckett of the other side whom only Suzanne Beckett knew. “It follows as the day the night,” to quote from Hamlet, all writing on Beckett has dealt with Beckett at face value, whereas Suzanne's remark gives us the essential Beckett. Hence, Suzanne's one short succinct sentence bears meaning and significance more than what has been written on him. Suzanne's one sentence overweighs the, to quote Estragon, “billions” of sentences written on Beckett. What has been written on him gives us sun-lit physical facts of known-to-all sides of Beckett, whereas Suzanne's one sentence gives us a colourful picture of the dim metaphysical mysteries of the known-to-her-only other side of Beckett. What the other side of Beckett is, only Suzanne could know, but none of us, we, to quote Hamlet, “fools of nature,” could know.
Like when Horatio suggesting to Marcellus and Bernardo to sit down and discuss the meaning of why Denmark is too busy in a way that work is not separating weekends from weekdays, I say, let us sit to consider to know and understand Beckett's other side which seems to be a side, and here I once more pilfer from the great Bard, Hamlet's remark to Horatio, "undreamt of in all" books on Beckett. And once again, as in another phrase from the great Bard as in this bit of dialogue in Hamlet: Bernardo: "What, is Horatio there?", and Horatio replies: "A piece of him", Suzanne told the world that it only sees a piece of Beckett! The entire Beckett situation churns into a mystery of the type of Hamlet's father's ghost who overshadows a play whose major theme is mystery. As Beckett, deep in his heart, knew that anything to be written on him was going to be stuff and nonsense in the light of Suzanne’s one sentence remark, no wonder he warned Bair, his first biographer, that he would read her book on him neither before not after it is published, and saying "Yes" to second biographer Knowlson about a biography, stipulated that the book was to be published after his and wife Suzanne's deaths, and, of course, Beckett had died before Anthony Cronin's biography was out.
Suzanne's one sentence, let me harp on this notion, eclipses the entire corpus of Beckett scholarship. No wonder, Beckett all his life-time long abhorred scholars, critics and university professors who tried to interpret his writings. He preferred a commonplace down-to-earth understanding of his works to sophisticated self-consciously-phrased researches by people full of themselves. “Crrrrrrrritics”, to quote Vladimir
Attending a rehearsal of WAITING FOR GODOT accompanied by Alan Schneider, Beckett during the show would every now and the whisper in Irish accent to Schneider about the director saying, "He hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng." Indeed to each university professor applies Beckett's whisper. "He hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng." In the final analysis, Beckett’s situation, hence, is like that in ENDGAME, when answering Hamm's question about how things were on the horizon, Clov says:” Zero”. Likewise, all attempts and claims, especially by university professors, to have understood and interpreted Beckett correctly are Zero. And Zero is part of university business of professors whom Beckett loathed and despised, as Zero is given as a mark to students who fail in tests. Beckett gave up teaching because he found out that he was teaching things he himself didn’t understand. Wish Beckett university professors realized this fact, and if they were the true genuine Beckettians they claim to be, let them as Beckett himself did: give up teaching. Beckett knew about this at the outset, and that is why he prescribed Aspirin to those who sought exegeses. Therefore, on this day 22nd December 2012 which is Saturday but when he died on 22nd December 1989 it was Friday, and he was born on Friday 13th April 1906, so his life was typical of his mode of thought that he died on the same day when he was born and to this applies Pozzo’s remark to Vladimir, “Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time…. One day we are born, one day we shall die, the same day”, I say, on this day 22nd December, 23rd anniversary of death of Beckett, my message to all teams of Beckett scholarship is: “Have done tormenting the old man in his grave with your writing on him. It is time you abandoned writing more stuff and nonsense on him as himself thought of all writing, his included, as ‘a stain on the surface of silence.’”
I am sure, in his grave, good old Sam would feel happy about this conclusion, and this is my homage to dear Sam, on the anniversary of his death on 22nd December 1989, a homage that, to some, may sound peculiarly idiosyncratic, nay absurd, in a true Samuel Beckett manner.
To quote Hamm, “old staunch, [I] remain”, the true genuine Beckettian who, taking after Beckett, gave up teaching over a decade ago, and ceased writing on him, nonetheless, keep reading what is written on him just to amuse myself with the secret joy of considering how the writer “hahs gaht iht ahl wrahng”!,
Siddeek Tawfeek,
Arabian of Beckettia
