Waiting for Godot has been on my TBR for a while now. People meet me, find out I am into books, figure out my nihilistic tendencies, and TADA! have you read Waiting for Godot? I’d say no, and they’ll say YOU should read it.
Bored of that conversation, I have finally read it.
And I can see why they thought I should read it.
I can now tell them I have read it, and frankly, I can’t say I’m mad about it.
Given all the hype, I was expecting more from this play. However, I am not exactly disappointed. Yet, it was a painful read, but I like what it has to offer as a whole.
Much madder than I’d ever aspired to be, the two main characters still felt relatable. I found their relationship dynamics quite amusing — a mixture of toxic yet loving friendship, they often gave the vibe of an old married couple. It was endearing in its own way.
Vladimir: Did I ever leave you?
Estragon: You let me go.
Also, I can’t help but admire the theme — the never-ending chase of finding the meaning of existence and the anguish accompanying it.
In short, the play is a brave experiment, kind of out-there (which is fine by me), and offers witticism.
The only (and a major) turn-off is it is a little taxing to read. However, its tiny size makes up for the lacking.
Although you have to read the play to get the essence, I will leave a few excerpts to pique your interest:
The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.
ESTRAGON: Fancy that. (He raises what remains of the carrot by the stub of leaf, twirls it before his eyes.) Funny, the more you eat, the worse it gets.
VLADIMIR: With me, it’s just the opposite.
ESTRAGON: In other words?
VLADIMIR: I get used to the muck as I go along.
There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.
Icklings 