Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot (a tragicomedy in two acts) is not your typical novel. During the first couple of pages, I was bewildered of what is happening. Am I reading right? Did I get a wrong version of the book, a version that is dedicated to directors only or something? However, after I flipped through the whole book, I saw that this is it. It’s a play, with the actual settings of the play, with 2 acts, actors, who goes in from one side of the theater and out from the other, description of every detail, every action, every pause, of every breath, of the reactions, of the light, of it all. When you read the book, you become the director.
Waiting for Godot, waiting for you to read it
At first I thought this is not my type of books at all, 3 pages later, I couldn’t take the book out of my hands. Who is Godot? Who are these 2 men? Why are they waiting for him? Is he ever going to come? And who do I like more out of those 2? Why is one annoying, but not the other, then the other is annoying but not the first?
Later during the book, you find yourself day-dreaming and turning the scenes into metaphors, and then applying those metaphors into actual situations you’ve been through yourself. Afterwards you go back to the book, and it’s utterly up to you to either see more into what has been written or simply enjoy the play and the theatrical direction.
Conclusion has been made, yes; but I will not share it with you. I will wait for you to read to book and then we will discuss it. It’s a short book, it’s quick, it’s different, it’s not your comfort zone kind of book. That is why I highly recommend it.