Synopsis
The first person narrative revolves around three days in the early life of a neurotic old man. “None of the days is described clearly or coherently and few details are given for the second and third days.” It is unlikely that the days are actually chronologically contiguous although the general framework does tend to be, digressions aside.
The story begins with the old man remembering back to when he was young, probably a young man rather than a child per se (based on the assumption that the man is modelled on Beckett himself who only came to appreciate Milton in his early twenties whilst at Trinity College). He begins arbitrarily; at least he maintains, “any other would have done”. Despite feeling unwell he rises early and leaves the house but not so early that his mother isn’t able to catch his eye from her window. He appears unclear in his own head if she is even waving at him – he’s already at a fair distance when he notices her – and puts forth the notion, calculated to reduce any significance that could be attributed to her actions, that she may simply have been exercising, her latest fad, and not really trying to communicate anything at all.
The young man is prone to sudden rages. As he is walking away he feels “really awful, very violent look out for a snail, slug or worm” to squash. Despite his propensity towards violence – or perhaps to find excuse for it – he makes a point of never avoiding things that might exacerbate it whether these be small birds or animals or simply difficult terrain.
He becomes aware of a white horse at such a distance that despite the excellent sight he boasts of he cannot tell if a man, woman or child is following it. White is a colour that has a strong effect on him and he flies into a rage simply at the thought of it (See Classical conditioning). In the past he had tried “beating his head against something” but has discovered that short bursts of energy, “running five or ten yards”, works best. After this he walks on for a bit and then heads home.
On the second day, despite having had another bad night, he leaves the house in the morning and doesn’t return until nightfall. He describes being “set on and pursued by … stoats” which – perhaps significantly – he refers to as “a family or tribe” rather than using the more common collective noun, pack. This is noteworthy because he specifically mentions he has a good head for facts having “picked up a lot of hard knowledge”. He survives the attack but regrets that he did not let them finish him off.
The events of the third day are distilled into the look he gets from an old road worker named Balfe of whom he had been terrified of as a child.
Once he has finished with these recollections we learn a little about where he is now. It appears he is still going for his daily perambulations, “out, on, round, back, in” as he puts it. And he is still in poor health. His throat, which has bothered him for as long as he can remember, still troubles him and he has developed earache. He regards himself now as a “mild” person and yet for some reason the violence of old erupts and he begins lashing about with his stick and cursing. His final thoughts are of vanishing from view in the tall ferns.
The man’s constant sore throat may well be a psychosomatic condition; he suffers from fidgeting and cites one instance where he collapses in some kind of fit. He is clearly a disturbed individual with a great deal of pent up hostility particularly toward his parents. He refers to himself as “mad” but then acknowledges that he is probably merely “a little strange”. His behaviour is obsessive, he has a propensity towards self-harm (“beating head against )” and he garners some comfort from suicidal thoughts (“walking furious headlong into fire”) but mainly from the inevitability that one day he will die anyway and all this will be over (“Oh I know I too shall cease to be as when I was not yet”). This evokes one of the central themes of all Beckett’s work: Life may not be death but it is dying (“Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps.” – Waiting for Godot).
His relationship with his parents is not good; he says he would rather go to hell than join them in paradise in fact. He is glad that his father died early in his life so that he wouldn’t have to be disappointed with the directionlessness of his son’s life (“I have never in my life been on my way anywhere”). The mother’s own somewhat eccentric behaviour meant that the two of them never became close; neither had spoken to the other in years following a dispute over money (perhaps his inheritance). The man talks of love but a love of the local flora (he is not far travelled) and imaginary fauna (creatures he has dreamt of), certainly not people. He wonders if he killed his parents and suspects that in a way, probably due to years of having to cope with his aberrant behaviour, he at least brought them a little closer to death. He has never married and so the family line – assuming he has no brother – will end with him, effectively killing off the family name.
Read more about this topic: From An Abandoned Work