Oh all to publish

This is a picture of the front of The Guardian's review pages on March 3rd, 1989, nine months before the death of the man pictured. It is the first publication of his beautiful late work Stirrings Still. John Calder published it in a limited edition retailing at £1,000 each (though every copy was signed by the weary author).

I was prompted to dig out the clipping from my yellowing archives by A Piece of Monologue's report on Faber & Faber's new editions of Beckett's plays and fiction. Faber's own pages on the series reveal a welcome new edition of what Beckett himself called Nohow On, a loose trilogy comprising Company, Ill Seen Ill Said and Worstward Ho.

In a letter to the NYRB, Calder explained the origin of the volume and why Stirrings Still could not be included. The good news is that Faber has now added it, thereby completing a Beckett Quartet. The bad news is that Nohow On has been dropped. Instead, the volume has four titles. Ever failed indeed.





On the other side of the page, the Guardian has a review of Stirrings Still by Frank Kermode:

So the end is a matter of muttering, in a voice so low that it does not even deserve an exclamation mark at the end. This is another of Beckett's nihilistic mantras, best mumbled aloud. They are inescapably paradoxical: representing the last possible act of imagination, they also suggest that even this quasi-Berkeleyan man, existing as perceived but almost not perceiving, cannot be represented without payment of tribute, however reluctant, to a specifically human power, not extinguished so long as one can speak of such things.

Beside Sir Frank's words there is a review of Stark by Ben Elton.