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Waiting for Godot

Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett I have never been a fan of Existentialism and / or Absurd Theater. When I was very young and inexperienced I thought Malraux's La Condition Humaine was the right choice. It wasn't. Since then, I haven't even tried anything of that sort, not even Ionesco's plays, though they've been on my mental 'to read' list for a while. I don't even know if mixing the 2 concepts is a good idea, but in what Beckett's play is concerned, I dare say they go well together.
I definitely enjoyed it a great deal, for no particular reasons. Or maybe there is (at least) one. His Irish wit. Yes, I know he wrote the play in France/French, but there's *something* in his language that makes him a clear (I'm so lacking adjectives and adverbs these days - in need for more caffeine) descendant of the Great Family of Irish writers/playwrights (to name only Wilde and Shaw). He plays and twists words and phrases, he speeds the pace only to slow it back again in a few seconds and there's such a great (both in quantity and quality) deal of absurd in the play, I found myself dumbly smiling on the street, probably looking like a complete idiot to strangers.

Definitely recommended.