Was never a fan of Waiting for Godot, and this very slim volume would never make me one. If you're a fan, you'll love it. If you're not--well, don't bother. ( )

From The Inside Outwards...: To most of those who DO know, Beckett's genius has manifested itself in the double act of of Vladimir and Estragon; a kind of existentialist slapstick if you will. However, the purest beauty of this Irishman's vision lies in his prose. It is here, and only here, that it resolves into a state approaching the calm and the silence, toward which each and every one of silently yearns. At first glance, Beckett's prose may seem minimalist in the extreme but, for those of us who penetrate beyond the mere black-on-white of print on page, there lies a remarkable fecundity of imagery and ideas; the starkness of Beckett's literary style forms a deliberately shallow veneer to his own universe. In "Worstward Ho",the reader is confronted with a kind of Cartesian duality: we listen to a mind lamenting the fact that the body it inhabits,in conspiracy with a world outside, inhabited purely by "shades", combine to separate it from God. A God who created these obstacles inthe first place; The Creation was meant to DENY Life. However, as with all Beckett's works, life erupts triumphant, if slightly bowed, at the end. As I said earlier, Beckett isn't meant to be easy on the eye or the brain, but that's what makes him so wonderful: we stretch-and thus exercise- ourselves.