Samuel Beckett(1906 — 1989)
Samuel Beckett
Irlande
6 min read
Irish writer, playwright and poet who wrote in both French and English. A leading figure of the Theatre of the Absurd, he revolutionised dramatic writing with Waiting for Godot (1953). Nobel Prize in Literature in 1969.
Frequently asked questions
Famous Quotes
« Try again. Fail again. Fail better. »
« Nothing is funnier than unhappiness. »
Key Facts
- Born in 1906 in Foxrock, near Dublin (Ireland)
- Settled in Paris in 1937 and from then on often wrote in French
- Premiered Waiting for Godot in 1953 at the Théâtre de Babylone in Paris
- Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1969
- Died in 1989 in Paris
Works & Achievements
Beckett's first published novel, written in English, blending dark humour with idle, aimless characters. It heralds the themes of wandering and the absurd.
Three novels written in French that dismantle traditional storytelling. They explore a consciousness that speaks endlessly, right up to the famous “you must go on”.
A play in which two men wait for a certain Godot who never comes. A founding masterpiece of the Theatre of the Absurd, performed all over the world.
A one-act play that confines four characters in a sealed room at the end of a world. A stark work about the wait for death.
The monologue of an old man who listens back to the tape recordings of his youth. A poignant meditation on time and memory.
A woman gradually buried in a mound of earth keeps chattering away, ever optimistic. An emblematic play of the tragic absurd.
The supreme honour, hailing a body of work that renewed both the novel and the theatre. Beckett, retiring to the point of shyness, did not collect the prize in person.
A late text of extreme concision about failure and the effort to carry on. In it we read the phrase that became famous: “Fail again, fail better”.
Anecdotes
Samuel Beckett is the only Nobel Prize winner to appear in Wisden, the leading cricket almanac. As a student at Trinity College Dublin, he played well enough to take part in genuine first-class matches. All his life, he kept his passion for this English sport.
After arriving in Paris in 1928, the young Beckett grew close to the famous Irish writer James Joyce, who was nearly blind. He helped him so much with his work that he was long mistaken for his secretary. He would sometimes read aloud to him and join in long literary discussions.
In January 1938, on a Paris street, Beckett was stabbed by a stranger demanding money; the blade narrowly missed his heart. Later, he visited his attacker in prison to understand what had driven him. The man only replied: “I don't know, sir.”
During the Occupation, Beckett joined a Resistance network in Paris, translating and collating intelligence. When the Gestapo broke up the network in 1942, he fled with his partner Suzanne to Roussillon, in the south of France. He would later receive the Croix de guerre for his courage.
For a revival of Waiting for Godot, his friend the sculptor Alberto Giacometti made the single tree that adorns the set. The two artists spent an entire night shaping that spindly plaster tree, never quite satisfied with it.
Primary Sources
ESTRAGON. — Nothing to be done. VLADIMIR. — I'm beginning to come round to that opinion.
Finished, it's finished, nearly finished, it must be nearly finished.
...you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
Key Places
Residential suburb south of Dublin where Beckett was born in 1906. The Irish landscapes of his childhood would quietly haunt his work.
Prestigious university where Beckett studied French and Italian and excelled at cricket. He briefly returned there to teach before choosing Paris.
Beckett's adopted city from 1928 onward, where he wrote most of his work, in French, and where he died in 1989. He lived on boulevard Saint-Jacques, in the 14th arrondissement.
Village in the south of France where Beckett took refuge from 1942 to 1945 after his Resistance network was betrayed. There he worked the land and began the novel *Watt*.
Norman town flattened by the 1944 bombings where Beckett volunteered in 1945 for the Irish Red Cross. There he came face to face with the misery of the post-war years.
Village where Beckett owned a small country house, a refuge for writing away from the noise of Paris. There he found the calm and solitude he sought.