A must-read for anyone who enjoys poetry for what it IS, not what it ought to be. The poems vary from the whimsical to the agonizing, but all carry the same unwavering theme: a sense of what it is to be a truly honest human being in a confusing modern world.

Clint Gaige is an outstanding author with a bright future indeed.

If language presupposes a set of initial limitations it is necessary to find a method to breach them. Molloy examines a kind of ontological condition of narrative that suggests more is being left unwritten than is actually being written: Not to want to say, not to know what you want to say, not to be able to say what you think you want to say, and never to stop saying, or hardly ever, that is the thing to keep in mind, even in the heat of composition. He suggests that it is a human condition to be unable to really express oneself as well as being a fault of language. Rather than see language as a smooth path towards self-expression he sees numerous irregular bumps, the nots, which cut away at the original intended thought. Instead of trying to find an ulterior mode of expression he suggests that expression should simply be conscious of these limitations of language. In this way language is able to delete itself in the midst of its expression. Words are not deleted on the paper, but expressed and then claims are made afterward that the intention of the word does not inhabit the content. A conclusion drawn is that language is inherently muddy and incapable of any pure form of self-expression. This is a dramatic contrast to the use of language by many other Modernists. Unlike Molly's soliloquy in Ulysses where grammar was manipulated in order to simulate thought's form, Molloy's thoughts cannot be allowed to settle so comfortably into words but must be second-guessed and deleted in order to create an appropriate form of expression. This is one temporary solution Beckett makes to illuminate language's limitations and explain how written language can never say what is actually true partly because the actual is never quite a certainty.

Molloy is searching within his narrative to find a purpose for writing. He declares early on in the narrative that he does not know why he writes other than that it is for someone else and if he doesn't he will be scolded, but he does not know to what end the writing is for. It is more an obligation than a wish to express himself or to find a means of communication. Even though Molloy writes every day he never arrives at a sense that his identity has been collected and transcribed into a permanent form: And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept. When arriving at a conclusion he immediately negates it by explaining why the opposite is true. Writing does not explain his experience. It only filters his thoughts into a form with a prearranged value attached to it. He is criticizing the false revelation of narrative that seeks to convey a true meaning through dead words. It is commonly and mistakenly perceived that there is a physical attachment between words and things when really as Molloy states there are: no things but nameless things, no names but thingless names. The relation between a word and object has no basis in reality, but is merely circumstantial. Because Molloy is unable to explain things without naming them he is only capable of conveying an approximate sense of what he is trying to describe. This prevents the possibility that what he writes will be regarded as a set of absolute truths related from one person to another. It allows reality to be maintained as an open question rather than a closed answer. This seems to be the central point of most of Beckett's work. He makes fascinating statements about the nature of language in Molloy. As always in Beckett's work, it achieves a comic and devastating quality that you will find in no other work.

Now I'm going to start on Sean Condon's "Film"...

I was in no way disappointed, and I've bought all of his books since.

This is an exquisite book. Stewart has a way with a turn of phrase that always makes me want to read more; he handles sentences delicately, and the emotions that his characters feel infuse the lines. His writing style may not be for everyone, but I enjouy good writing that paints images with words, and his does that for me.

He also writes female voices very well. I was impressed with how well he took on the persona of a woman; she spoke convincingly, had convincing trials and tribulations, and problems that anyone could relate to -- or at least anyone who has ever had that feeling of disconnect from themselves, exacerbated by her profession.

Stewart writes books where magic is integral, and part and parcel to the story; it is not thrown in as an afterthought but is ingrained and the world would not be the same without it. Very original, and very worth reading for the possible promises and futures it ordains.

Gets a nine for the annoying, unhappy ending.

Seriously, this is a great book. While on the surface it's a book about a murder, it really engages on other levels. One of the central themes is biblical vs. civil justice, and whether murder is ever right.. Not that this is a religious book. Far from it, thankfully. Faust is another theme that is explored, but it's really just a great book. Stewart has a gift for concise, powerful description.

The main character is unique. Dianne Fletcher is a shaper - a sort of empath discovered by a psychiatrist about 20 years before the novel begins. Shapers can 'read' emotions. Dianne Fletcher comes up with an analogy for how a person acts. For example, a very religious man she 'sees' as a wick, burning brightly in a white wax candle. (Stewart puts it better than I do.) She's a Hunter, basically a private detective, but they're licensed by the government, and work more closely with the police. Basically, they get all the difficult cases that the police can't handle because they're busy arresting people for adultery and other stuff. The world is really well thought out, and isn't that far from the technology level of the present day 1990s, so If you don't like far out SF, don't worry. This is just a nicely detailed backdrop for the story.

Anyway, the book is really, really good. Every time I read it it never lasts long enough. And I'm always mad at the way the ending turns out. But the ending is consistent with the world the book takes place in.