ABSTRACT
For Beckett, like Kafka, does not write for the amusement of readers. It is doubtful if, in writing his books, he ever even thinks of readers. Beckett writes because he has to write, because he is under a compulsion to search for the nature of his own self and, thus, to explore the depths of being, the nature of the predicament of man and his existence. To Beckett, the novel is not an act of communication or storytelling; it is a lonely and dedicated exploration, a shaft driven deep down into the core of the self. Belacqua himself has the difficulty of locomotion that afflicts so many of Beckett's characters: “a spavined gait, his feet were in ruins, corns, hammer-toes”.
