The Irish Literary Times

My parents were farmers and I spent most of my early years living in Co. Laois.

This engaging and often controversial study of Beckett’s works argues that, for Beckett, pure language is reality. Taking its title from a sentence in Worstward Ho, this rigorous reading of Beckett’s key texts claims that what we perceive in the existential world can never be proved to exist, while language survives scrutiny, and will ‘go on’ to become the real, once it has been divested of its connection to the corporeal. This book draws on the major philosophers to support this thesis, but in so doing argues that Beckett’s thinking surpasses all of theirs, because Beckett’s art is his philosophy and his philosophy is his art.