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Krapp's Last Tape
Samuel Beckett, one of the great avant-garde Irish dramatists and writers of the second half of the 20th century, was born on 13 April 1906. His centenary will be celebrated throughout 2006 with performances of his major plays, including Waiting for Godot. Here are the two most famous plays for a single actor. Krapp's Last Tape finds an old man, with his tape recorder, musing over the past and future. Not I is a remarkable tour de force for a single actress, as a woman emits memories and fears. It follows the highly acclaimed recordings of Beckett's Trilogy, Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable published by Naxos AudioBooks. Directed by John Tydeman.
8 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 1958
8 people are currently reading
278 people want to read
About the author
Samuel Beckett
920 books6,596 followersNovels of Samuel Barclay Beckett, Irish writer, include
Murphy
in 1938 and
Malone Dies
in 1951; a wider audience know his absurdist plays, such as
Waiting for Godot
in 1952 and
Krapp's Last Tape
in 1959, and he won the Nobel Prize of 1969 for literature.
Samuel Barclay Beckett, an avant-garde theater director and poet, lived in France for most of his adult life. He used English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black gallows humor.
People regard most influence of Samuel Barclay Beckett of the 20th century. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce strongly influenced him, whom people consider as one modernist. People sometimes consider him as an inspiration to many later first postmodernists. He is one of the key in what Martin Esslin called the "theater of the absurd". His later career worked with increasing minimalism.
People awarded Samuel Barclay Beckett "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation".
In 1984, people elected Samuel Barclay Bennett as Saoi of Aosdána.
Samuel Barclay Beckett, an avant-garde theater director and poet, lived in France for most of his adult life. He used English and French. His work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human nature, often coupled with black gallows humor.
People regard most influence of Samuel Barclay Beckett of the 20th century. James Augustine Aloysius Joyce strongly influenced him, whom people consider as one modernist. People sometimes consider him as an inspiration to many later first postmodernists. He is one of the key in what Martin Esslin called the "theater of the absurd". His later career worked with increasing minimalism.
People awarded Samuel Barclay Beckett "for his writing, which—in new forms for the novel and drama—in the destitution of modern man acquires its elevation".
In 1984, people elected Samuel Barclay Bennett as Saoi of Aosdána.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 92 reviews
May 9, 2025
A bitterly mordant overview of an old man's picayune life, as he relives it nightly in his juvenile fantasies, self-recorded on tape over the years. No fit twilight life for an aged man or beast!
But I've found in my reading that there IS sense in it after all. I'll get into that at length later in this review...
Krapp's Last Tape is a variant of Shaw's Don Juan In Hell. Both men are damned by their indolent lust, as would have also been the case with Bellacqua in Dante's Purgatorio, save for the Grace secured by his faith.
It's almost funny - but will be precisely that if you enjoy slapstick. I, alas, am an old man who has seen just too much folly in his life.
So read it if you will - after all, it IS a classic of black humour - but try to "remember the Creator in the Days of your Youth." And use your forethought and afterthought throughout its short length.
After all, it's above all a Morality Play.
Speaking of Morality Plays, here's a story for you...
In my early twenties, laid low by my overweening pride, I was blue and contrite - but I clung to my religious mores. Unfortunately, my Dark Wood was becoming denser and murkier.
One day, I was in the company of two young bucks who were comparing their sexual conquests to the prize of satyriasis - The Blue Max, flimsily coveted by George Peppard in the jejune film of that name.
Their sexual conquests were a mere trophy to them!
And they are now the vieux vicueux - like Krapp.
O Dark, Dark, Dark -
They all go into the Dark.
But, as I said at the beginning, there is a brief sense of real light in this play. While browsing in the stacks of the Douglas Library in 1973, I had come to a brief reference to what was to Beckett the EPIPHANY - the immense vision - that made Beckett one of our greatest authors.
Today, though, I am reading an excellent explanation of this mystery in Dun Laoghaire, Ireland, called Tales from the East Pier, on the Web. This tells it ALL:
"In Krapp's Last Tape is... The epiphany at the Forty Foot on the East Pier (which Beckett had experienced)." Swimming in a wild storm, Beckett suddenly saw all life as a raging storm which can only be ended by the Cleansing of Fire (shades of Dante's Purgatory!).
But that's just one take on this lugubrious farce -
Which I take, in my own skewed way, as simply A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life....
For what other sensible option do we have in our final years -
Seriously?
But I've found in my reading that there IS sense in it after all. I'll get into that at length later in this review...
Krapp's Last Tape is a variant of Shaw's Don Juan In Hell. Both men are damned by their indolent lust, as would have also been the case with Bellacqua in Dante's Purgatorio, save for the Grace secured by his faith.
It's almost funny - but will be precisely that if you enjoy slapstick. I, alas, am an old man who has seen just too much folly in his life.
So read it if you will - after all, it IS a classic of black humour - but try to "remember the Creator in the Days of your Youth." And use your forethought and afterthought throughout its short length.
After all, it's above all a Morality Play.
Speaking of Morality Plays, here's a story for you...
In my early twenties, laid low by my overweening pride, I was blue and contrite - but I clung to my religious mores. Unfortunately, my Dark Wood was becoming denser and murkier.
One day, I was in the company of two young bucks who were comparing their sexual conquests to the prize of satyriasis - The Blue Max, flimsily coveted by George Peppard in the jejune film of that name.
Their sexual conquests were a mere trophy to them!
And they are now the vieux vicueux - like Krapp.
O Dark, Dark, Dark -
They all go into the Dark.
But, as I said at the beginning, there is a brief sense of real light in this play. While browsing in the stacks of the Douglas Library in 1973, I had come to a brief reference to what was to Beckett the EPIPHANY - the immense vision - that made Beckett one of our greatest authors.
Today, though, I am reading an excellent explanation of this mystery in Dun Laoghaire, Ireland, called Tales from the East Pier, on the Web. This tells it ALL:
"In Krapp's Last Tape is... The epiphany at the Forty Foot on the East Pier (which Beckett had experienced)." Swimming in a wild storm, Beckett suddenly saw all life as a raging storm which can only be ended by the Cleansing of Fire (shades of Dante's Purgatory!).
But that's just one take on this lugubrious farce -
Which I take, in my own skewed way, as simply A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life....
For what other sensible option do we have in our final years -
Seriously?
January 8, 2025
La última cinta de Krapp.
Beckett aquí como siempre, existencialista, un tanto absurdo, y desde luego genial.
Un personaje maduro en escena rodeado de cintas grabadas en su edad joven, y anotaciones en cuadernos.
O mucho me equivoco o nos habla de la memoria y la constante necesidad que parecemos tener de tener todo controlado en cintas, casetes, memorias o diarios. Hoy día grabando todos los eventos y publicándolos en redes, etc etc y que no se escape nada, que quede constancia de todo, y registro de todo…y .. ¿por cuánto tiempo? ¿para revisar cuándo? Esa parece ser la pregunta: remontarnos a no sé qué edad y registrar todo lo que la memoria no nos permite ¿para qué?
“KRAPP (canta): “Ahora el día termina, la noche desenvaina su alta noche, sombras...”. Ojo metáfora relevante.
Y como siempre, el absurdo al que siempre lleva Beckett sus composiciones: el término viuda, viudita, el pájaro… ¿Que significan las palabras?, el aferrarse a pequeños detalles o retazos agradables de la vida, ese parece ser el sentido de toda persona. O los mecanismos recurrentes y repetitivos como la de comer plátanos, Beckett podía haber puesto cualquier otro alimento, manzanas… las repeticiones de la vida sin sentido, una y otra vez.
“Me imagino que esto es, sobre todo, lo que debo grabar esta noche, pensando en el día en que mi labor esté concluida y ya no quede sitio en mi memoria, ni frío ni cálido, para el milagro que... (vacila)... para el fuego que la abrasó. Lo que entonces vi de repente, fue la creencia que había guiado toda mi vida.”
Y finalmente... la vuelta recurrente a los pocos momentos felices de que gozamos, visto en retrospectiva y todo en clave existencialista, ¿vale la pena ese retorno y vuelta una y otra vez a esos recuerdos que tal vez nos hacen sufrir más que disfrutar?
Beckett aquí como siempre, existencialista, un tanto absurdo, y desde luego genial.
Un personaje maduro en escena rodeado de cintas grabadas en su edad joven, y anotaciones en cuadernos.
O mucho me equivoco o nos habla de la memoria y la constante necesidad que parecemos tener de tener todo controlado en cintas, casetes, memorias o diarios. Hoy día grabando todos los eventos y publicándolos en redes, etc etc y que no se escape nada, que quede constancia de todo, y registro de todo…y .. ¿por cuánto tiempo? ¿para revisar cuándo? Esa parece ser la pregunta: remontarnos a no sé qué edad y registrar todo lo que la memoria no nos permite ¿para qué?
“KRAPP (canta): “Ahora el día termina, la noche desenvaina su alta noche, sombras...”. Ojo metáfora relevante.
Y como siempre, el absurdo al que siempre lleva Beckett sus composiciones: el término viuda, viudita, el pájaro… ¿Que significan las palabras?, el aferrarse a pequeños detalles o retazos agradables de la vida, ese parece ser el sentido de toda persona. O los mecanismos recurrentes y repetitivos como la de comer plátanos, Beckett podía haber puesto cualquier otro alimento, manzanas… las repeticiones de la vida sin sentido, una y otra vez.
“Me imagino que esto es, sobre todo, lo que debo grabar esta noche, pensando en el día en que mi labor esté concluida y ya no quede sitio en mi memoria, ni frío ni cálido, para el milagro que... (vacila)... para el fuego que la abrasó. Lo que entonces vi de repente, fue la creencia que había guiado toda mi vida.”
Y finalmente... la vuelta recurrente a los pocos momentos felices de que gozamos, visto en retrospectiva y todo en clave existencialista, ¿vale la pena ese retorno y vuelta una y otra vez a esos recuerdos que tal vez nos hacen sufrir más que disfrutar?
April 19, 2015
I really like the way this play has been written. We have an old man here, named Krapp (the "excremental connotation" ingeniously implied), who listens to tapes, that he had recorded in younger times, on his birthday. The tapes voice the thoughts and experiences of a younger Krapp and, also, his continual discontentment with himself. He narrates several fragmented episodes: his mother's death, a romantic incident, etc. Being a characteristic Beckett play, of course, this isn't something optimistic and cheerful, and the most depressing thing I found about this play was how Krapp actually degenerated into crap during the course of his life. The pun is, thus, used and I found it most dejecting. All the dreams and aspirations he had as a young man morphed into a failed love life, death and disease and bitterness. I read a short story by Chekhov recently, titled Dreams, that had the same despondent tone. Putting the gloom aside, again, I must appreciate the way Beckett compacted the entire life story of a person, his hopes and disappointments in just a single act. Very nice.
July 9, 2024
خوانش اول با ترجمهی بدِ علی باش.
خوانش دوم با ترجمهی عالیِ محمد شهبا.
خوانش سوم همزمان با دیدن فیلم آتوم اگویان، از ترجمهی علی باش.
خوانش دوم با ترجمهی عالیِ محمد شهبا.
خوانش سوم همزمان با دیدن فیلم آتوم اگویان، از ترجمهی علی باش.
February 22, 2019
i need to read about it to understand this short play.
October 8, 2023
Wer Beckett einmal gelesen und sich danach entschieden hat ihn zu mögen, taucht auch hier sofort wieder in seine einzigartige Welt ein. Es gibt nichts zu erklären, nichts zu verstehen, man ist einfach in der Situation des Stücks und lässt dieses auf sich wirken.
April 15, 2020
Longe de ser marcante, mas interessante.
November 19, 2022
"Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back."
Read
April 25, 2020the way this man eats bananas is truly haunting.
July 18, 2023
Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh-igh,
Shadows—
of the evening
Steal across the sky.
My professor (I call him the best) recommended this story to me after hearing my thoughts on time! (We both share our admiration for Beckett). Well, he asked for my humble thoughts after reading it… and I an inconsequential creature for the love of Beckett… yes, I can’t jot down anything. First, I read the story right after his recommendation, duh… then after the course of a month, again, last week but still this being is short of words.
The story perfectly incapsulates the imperfect time and designs of prudence on a fragile humanly circular existence. And afterwards, I’ll say the same I said for “Mrs Dalloway,” I’ll come back to the story when in my late years of life with an eye of profound empathetic introspection of age. For now, I’m too young, hopeful and rebellious for time, prudence and it’s clutches to intervene. I can try but never level.
Finally, I must admit my gratitude as my writings are inspired by Beckett among others and this story was another masterpiece in my personal collection of his deeply appreciated oeuvre.
Night is drawing nigh-igh,
Shadows—
of the evening
Steal across the sky.
My professor (I call him the best) recommended this story to me after hearing my thoughts on time! (We both share our admiration for Beckett). Well, he asked for my humble thoughts after reading it… and I an inconsequential creature for the love of Beckett… yes, I can’t jot down anything. First, I read the story right after his recommendation, duh… then after the course of a month, again, last week but still this being is short of words.
The story perfectly incapsulates the imperfect time and designs of prudence on a fragile humanly circular existence. And afterwards, I’ll say the same I said for “Mrs Dalloway,” I’ll come back to the story when in my late years of life with an eye of profound empathetic introspection of age. For now, I’m too young, hopeful and rebellious for time, prudence and it’s clutches to intervene. I can try but never level.
Finally, I must admit my gratitude as my writings are inspired by Beckett among others and this story was another masterpiece in my personal collection of his deeply appreciated oeuvre.
November 22, 2023
audiobook is nice, dramatised by a great voice actor-narrator with a crazy gurgling voice
September 6, 2025
Печаль біда
January 16, 2026
Un soir, tard, d'ici quelque temps. <3 Das ist eines der Theaterstücke, die ich letzten Sommer in Zürich kaufte und auch dort las. The Crucible war das andere. Und beide wurden zu meinen liebsten Büchern des Jahres. Ich glaube, es liegt sowohl an der Brillianz beider Stücke als auch an der Tatsache, dass ich beide schmalen Hefte im Urlaub verschlang. Beide Stücke werden für mich immer mit dieser wundertollen Stadt in Verbindung stehen, und ich lieb sie einfach sehr.
Beckett and I go way back. Hab 2018 Waiting for Godot mit meinem damaligen Buchclub gelesen und als Einzige geliebt. 2022 dann Endgame, ebenfalls als sehr toll empfunden. 2023 dann Happy Days, mit dem ich zugegebenermaßen etwas gestruggelt habe. Und dann jetzt, 2025, Das letzte Band. Das coole an meiner Version des Buches ist, dass es sowohl die deutsche, englische und französische Fassung enthält. Da das Kammerspiel selbst nur um die 20 Seiten umfasst, ist die Ausgabe natürlich trotzdem unglaublich schmal. Und ich hab's geliebt, alle drei Versionen (und somit auch Interpretationen, bc translation is always also interpretation) des Stückes hintereinander wegzulesen und miteinander zu vergleichen. Becketts eigene französische Übersetzung ist natürlich viel, viel freier, als die deutsche Übertragung von Erika und Elmar Tophoven.
Ich hab das Stück im Bett gelesen, während die Sonne durch die Balkontür schien, und ich kann mich nicht mehr erinnern, ob ich geweint habe (es ist immerhin 5 Monate her), aber ich weiß noch ganz genau, wie sehr mich das Stück berührt hat. Es spricht so gekonnt von Einsam- und Aussichtslosigkeit, und es ist dabei wirklich krass bleak, aber dann irgendwo auch nicht. Ich finde, Beckett schafft diesen Spagat zwischen Nihilismus und ... mir fehlt das richtige Wort. Er stellt das Erleben von Sinnlosigkeit literarisch so konsequent dar, dass eben gar nichts mehr sinnlos ist, sondern alles sinnhaft.
Krapps Erinnerung an sein junges Ich schafft keine Kontinuität, sondern eher das Gegenteil: eine Entfremdung. Und somit ist das Erinnern auch kein tröstlicher Akt, sondern ein leerer Akt. Krapp konserviert seine Vergangenheit, dies hat aber keine Konsequenz oder Bedeutung. Nur Bananen, ein alter Mann und ein Bandgerät. Es ist gerade diese Banalität, die das Stück so brutal macht. Es endet nicht tragisch, sondern unspektakulär leer. Das Stück endet wie es begonnen hat: mit einem Krapp, der regungslos verharrt und in die Leere starrt. Das Band läuft weiter, in der Stille. This is how the world ends, people, not with a bang but a whimper. LISTEN! Pay me, wenn ihr wollt, dass ich euch einen Bezug zwischen Becketts Werk und dem von T.S. Eliot (the greatest poet to ever do it) herstelle. PAY ME! I would throw Bölls Doktor Murkes gesammeltes Schweigen in the mix as well. Nicht der Knall fehlt – sondern der Glaube, dass er je kommen müsste.
Mit Das letzte Band ist Beckett eine Konfrontation gelungen: zwischen dem Menschen, der man dachte zu werden, und dem Menschen, der man geworden ist. Und das ist brutal, weil niemand gewinnt. Die Vergangenheit spricht unverändert. Die Gegenwart ist enttäuscht, verbittert, müde. Keine Version kann die andere retten. Zeit ist hier kein Fluss, sondern ein Schredder. Sie verbindet Identitäten nicht – sie trennt sie.
Und weil das hier alles schon so fucking traurig ist und ich in Büchern immer die besten Grabschriften finde: Beckett, I am coming for your ass on Cimetière du Montparnasse, and I'll "Ici je termine" on your tomb. Watch out.
Beckett and I go way back. Hab 2018 Waiting for Godot mit meinem damaligen Buchclub gelesen und als Einzige geliebt. 2022 dann Endgame, ebenfalls als sehr toll empfunden. 2023 dann Happy Days, mit dem ich zugegebenermaßen etwas gestruggelt habe. Und dann jetzt, 2025, Das letzte Band. Das coole an meiner Version des Buches ist, dass es sowohl die deutsche, englische und französische Fassung enthält. Da das Kammerspiel selbst nur um die 20 Seiten umfasst, ist die Ausgabe natürlich trotzdem unglaublich schmal. Und ich hab's geliebt, alle drei Versionen (und somit auch Interpretationen, bc translation is always also interpretation) des Stückes hintereinander wegzulesen und miteinander zu vergleichen. Becketts eigene französische Übersetzung ist natürlich viel, viel freier, als die deutsche Übertragung von Erika und Elmar Tophoven.
Ich hab das Stück im Bett gelesen, während die Sonne durch die Balkontür schien, und ich kann mich nicht mehr erinnern, ob ich geweint habe (es ist immerhin 5 Monate her), aber ich weiß noch ganz genau, wie sehr mich das Stück berührt hat. Es spricht so gekonnt von Einsam- und Aussichtslosigkeit, und es ist dabei wirklich krass bleak, aber dann irgendwo auch nicht. Ich finde, Beckett schafft diesen Spagat zwischen Nihilismus und ... mir fehlt das richtige Wort. Er stellt das Erleben von Sinnlosigkeit literarisch so konsequent dar, dass eben gar nichts mehr sinnlos ist, sondern alles sinnhaft.
L'ombre descend de nos montagnes,Das letzte Band ist ein Stück übers Scheitern. (Und um den Bogen zu Murrays brillanten The Bee Sting zu schlagen: You can fail at something you don't want!) Der alte Krapp, 69 Jahre alt, sitzt allein in seinem Zimmer. Jedes Jahr an seinem Geburtstag nimmt er ein Tonband auf, um auf sein Leben zurückzublicken. Nun hört er ein altes Band aus seiner Jugend ab – und kommentiert es spöttisch, bitter, manchmal verächtlich. Am Ende nimmt er ein neues Band auf, das jedoch kaum noch Hoffnung enthält. Das Stück endet nicht mit Erkenntnis, sondern mit Stagnation.
L'azur du ciel va se ternir,
Le bruit se tait—
Krapps Erinnerung an sein junges Ich schafft keine Kontinuität, sondern eher das Gegenteil: eine Entfremdung. Und somit ist das Erinnern auch kein tröstlicher Akt, sondern ein leerer Akt. Krapp konserviert seine Vergangenheit, dies hat aber keine Konsequenz oder Bedeutung. Nur Bananen, ein alter Mann und ein Bandgerät. Es ist gerade diese Banalität, die das Stück so brutal macht. Es endet nicht tragisch, sondern unspektakulär leer. Das Stück endet wie es begonnen hat: mit einem Krapp, der regungslos verharrt und in die Leere starrt. Das Band läuft weiter, in der Stille. This is how the world ends, people, not with a bang but a whimper. LISTEN! Pay me, wenn ihr wollt, dass ich euch einen Bezug zwischen Becketts Werk und dem von T.S. Eliot (the greatest poet to ever do it) herstelle. PAY ME! I would throw Bölls Doktor Murkes gesammeltes Schweigen in the mix as well. Nicht der Knall fehlt – sondern der Glaube, dass er je kommen müsste.
Mit Das letzte Band ist Beckett eine Konfrontation gelungen: zwischen dem Menschen, der man dachte zu werden, und dem Menschen, der man geworden ist. Und das ist brutal, weil niemand gewinnt. Die Vergangenheit spricht unverändert. Die Gegenwart ist enttäuscht, verbittert, müde. Keine Version kann die andere retten. Zeit ist hier kein Fluss, sondern ein Schredder. Sie verbindet Identitäten nicht – sie trennt sie.
Und weil das hier alles schon so fucking traurig ist und ich in Büchern immer die besten Grabschriften finde: Beckett, I am coming for your ass on Cimetière du Montparnasse, and I'll "Ici je termine" on your tomb. Watch out.
February 25, 2021
It's so weird.
Which I get. It's supposed to be, and there is a beauty about it, and I'm sure it's great to watch.
Looking forward to reading some more of Beckett's works.
Which I get. It's supposed to be, and there is a beauty about it, and I'm sure it's great to watch.
Looking forward to reading some more of Beckett's works.
April 30, 2022
I previously saw a performance of Krapp’s Last Tape on Youtube. So instinctively do we feel disconnected from our past selves but at the same time we carry the baggage and trauma. His older self is listening back to a tape he recorded aged 39 and the voice on the tape is commenting on having listened to a tape from his twenties. The former selves bemuse and amuse and the past is a foreign country. Still a sense of pain remains from grief stricken moments when emotions ran most wild and they still open up old wounds.
The modern day Krapp has forgotten all the meaningful notes from that year and searches the dictionary to find out the meanings of the precocious/pretentious, haughty vocabulary he utilised at the time. The spaced out selves laugh at the concerns they had, the interests that have long ago been ditched, bad choices in relationships etc. At best they have vague recollections and are subject to all the inaccuracies that we experience at the best of times. The human brain being an inaccurate recording device, often coloured by emotions, wish fulfilment etc. The tired older figure struggles to place himself in a young body teeming with optimism and vitality. His concerns, desires and drives are different now, not least in accordance with his body and its waning genetic drives
The modern day Krapp has forgotten all the meaningful notes from that year and searches the dictionary to find out the meanings of the precocious/pretentious, haughty vocabulary he utilised at the time. The spaced out selves laugh at the concerns they had, the interests that have long ago been ditched, bad choices in relationships etc. At best they have vague recollections and are subject to all the inaccuracies that we experience at the best of times. The human brain being an inaccurate recording device, often coloured by emotions, wish fulfilment etc. The tired older figure struggles to place himself in a young body teeming with optimism and vitality. His concerns, desires and drives are different now, not least in accordance with his body and its waning genetic drives
December 31, 2016
“Just been listening to that stupid bastard I took myself for thirty years ago, hard to believe I was ever as bad as that. Thank God that's all done with anyway.”
Good to remember that if we listened to our recordings after 30 years we would not recognize that as ourselves
Good to remember that if we listened to our recordings after 30 years we would not recognize that as ourselves
March 12, 2017
Loved it. The Theatre of the Absurd has always fascinated me and Beckett's Waiting for Godot is a masterpiece so I had to read other works from him.
Krapp is about regret, time, love and loss. Topics which are not so absurd at all.
Krapp is about regret, time, love and loss. Topics which are not so absurd at all.
September 24, 2023
some would say an excessive focus on bananas (i am some)
October 23, 2025
Arabic review below*
The literal meaning of “ A Hopeless excruciating Case”
Each time I read existentialist or absurdist literature, I appreciate the grace of being a Muslim once more again. Beaause such characters who are lost in their lives, have no purpose, no religious rituals, or a God to return to, their lives would turn to an endless affliction, which neither can they move forward nor live in the present time. They might rely on their past to find some solace, but eventually, the past has already passed!
Yeah, the future is uncertain, scary.
But are you going to sit motionless and speechless, in solitude with your only companion “ REGRET? Living your supposedly“Ultimate Reality” in silence like Krapp?
Only cowards will only run away from everything; acknowledging their mistakes and their deficiencies. To only blaming their past selves without making any progressions on their current selves.l
The only way to get over it is to get over it…
Go get a life Krapp!
But alas, as they always say: “You are what you choose.”
And you chose this sort of surrendering. So blame your present self not your past one.
في كل مرة أقرأ فيها أدب الوجودية أو العبث، أزداد امتنانًا لنعمة كوني مسلمة من جديد.
فمثل تلك الشخصيات التائهة في حياتها، التي لا غاية لها، ولا طقوس دينية، ولا إله تلجأ إليه، تنقلب حياتهم إلى شقاء لا ينتهي؛ لا هم قادرون على التقدّم، ولا هم يعيشون اللحظة.
قد يلجؤون إلى ماضيهم بحثًا عن بعض السلوى، لكن في نهاية المطاف… الماضي قد ولّى!
نعم، المستقبل مجهول ومخيف.
لكن، هل ستبقى ساكنًا وصامتًا، تعيش في وحدةٍ لا رفيق لك فيها سوى “الندم”؟
هل ستقضي حياتك فيما تسميه “الواقع الأسمى” في صمت، كما يفعل كراب؟
فقط الجبناء هم من يهربون من كل شيء؛ يعترفون بأخطائهم ونواقصهم، لكنهم لا يحرّكون ساكنًا لتغيير حاضرهم، بل يكتفون بلوم ذواتهم السابقة دون أي محاولة للتحسّن أو التقدّم.
الطريقة الوحيدة لتجاوز الأمر… هي أن تتجاوزه فعليًا!
انهض وابدأ حياتك يا كراب!
ولكن، ويا للأسف، كما يُقال دائمًا:
“أنت نتاج اختياراتك.”
وأنت اخترت هذا النوع من الاستسلام.
فلا تلوم ماضيك… بل لوم ذاتك الحاضرة.
The literal meaning of “ A Hopeless excruciating Case”
Each time I read existentialist or absurdist literature, I appreciate the grace of being a Muslim once more again. Beaause such characters who are lost in their lives, have no purpose, no religious rituals, or a God to return to, their lives would turn to an endless affliction, which neither can they move forward nor live in the present time. They might rely on their past to find some solace, but eventually, the past has already passed!
Yeah, the future is uncertain, scary.
But are you going to sit motionless and speechless, in solitude with your only companion “ REGRET? Living your supposedly“Ultimate Reality” in silence like Krapp?
Only cowards will only run away from everything; acknowledging their mistakes and their deficiencies. To only blaming their past selves without making any progressions on their current selves.l
The only way to get over it is to get over it…
Go get a life Krapp!
But alas, as they always say: “You are what you choose.”
And you chose this sort of surrendering. So blame your present self not your past one.
في كل مرة أقرأ فيها أدب الوجودية أو العبث، أزداد امتنانًا لنعمة كوني مسلمة من جديد.
فمثل تلك الشخصيات التائهة في حياتها، التي لا غاية لها، ولا طقوس دينية، ولا إله تلجأ إليه، تنقلب حياتهم إلى شقاء لا ينتهي؛ لا هم قادرون على التقدّم، ولا هم يعيشون اللحظة.
قد يلجؤون إلى ماضيهم بحثًا عن بعض السلوى، لكن في نهاية المطاف… الماضي قد ولّى!
نعم، المستقبل مجهول ومخيف.
لكن، هل ستبقى ساكنًا وصامتًا، تعيش في وحدةٍ لا رفيق لك فيها سوى “الندم”؟
هل ستقضي حياتك فيما تسميه “الواقع الأسمى” في صمت، كما يفعل كراب؟
فقط الجبناء هم من يهربون من كل شيء؛ يعترفون بأخطائهم ونواقصهم، لكنهم لا يحرّكون ساكنًا لتغيير حاضرهم، بل يكتفون بلوم ذواتهم السابقة دون أي محاولة للتحسّن أو التقدّم.
الطريقة الوحيدة لتجاوز الأمر… هي أن تتجاوزه فعليًا!
انهض وابدأ حياتك يا كراب!
ولكن، ويا للأسف، كما يُقال دائمًا:
“أنت نتاج اختياراتك.”
وأنت اخترت هذا النوع من الاستسلام.
فلا تلوم ماضيك… بل لوم ذاتك الحاضرة.
November 30, 2021
In this one-act play, Beckett makes use of the tape-recorder to show the indistinctness of the human conduct.
Krapp is an exceptionally old man who right through his adult life has annually recorded an account of the past year’s thoughts and events on a tape. We see him old, infirm, and a disappointment as a writer (only seventeen copies of his book have been sold inthe current year), listening to his own voice recorded thirty years earlier.
But his voice has become the voice of an unfamiliar person to him.
Through the luminous device of the autobiographical library of annual recorded statements, Beckett has found an explicit idiom for the problem of the ever-changing individuality of the self, which he had already described in his essay on Proust.
In Krapp‘s Last Tape, the self at one moment in time is confronted with its earlier incarnation only to find it completely strange.
Krapp is an exceptionally old man who right through his adult life has annually recorded an account of the past year’s thoughts and events on a tape. We see him old, infirm, and a disappointment as a writer (only seventeen copies of his book have been sold inthe current year), listening to his own voice recorded thirty years earlier.
But his voice has become the voice of an unfamiliar person to him.
Through the luminous device of the autobiographical library of annual recorded statements, Beckett has found an explicit idiom for the problem of the ever-changing individuality of the self, which he had already described in his essay on Proust.
In Krapp‘s Last Tape, the self at one moment in time is confronted with its earlier incarnation only to find it completely strange.
November 3, 2025
M'agrada la teoria que llegeixo sobre l'obra però l'obra en si potser no tant. Val a dir que l'he llegit, no l'he vist. Beckett sempre m'agrada més com a idea que com a realització. Potser no soc prou moderna per ell. A veure què en diu la Teresa avui a classe.
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November 12, 2019How can I rate this? What was this?
February 13, 2023
So much sadness and regret in a single act!
January 7, 2024
there’s a surprising amount of bananas in this play
May 20, 2024
(ouvido / BBC)
September 13, 2024
3.5⭐
io a beckett metterei cinque stelle a spada tratta ma sento di essere rimasta un po' fuori da quest'opera. devo assolutamente rileggerla e magari vederla, oppure leggere della critica
io a beckett metterei cinque stelle a spada tratta ma sento di essere rimasta un po' fuori da quest'opera. devo assolutamente rileggerla e magari vederla, oppure leggere della critica
March 8, 2025
muszę to zobaczyć irl
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December 31, 2025Hey, this one is really good. Very moving. Possibly my favorite of his after Waiting for Godot, now. Maybe I should try the novels.
October 24, 2020
Brilliant. Terribly impinging, yet somehow this play puts so much in perspective, painfully so. Cathartic, yet entensioning.
March 18, 2017
With all this darkness around me I feel less alone. (Pause.) In a way. (Pause.)
And so on. (Pause.) Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.
Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back.
And so on. (Pause.) Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.
Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn't want them back.
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