Apparently, this summer I have a generational run of "intellectual" literature, which will either end me in a reading slump or a shelf of more entertaining literature. Either way, I don't regret it a bit, because "Waiting for Godot" by Samuel Beckett was worth all the struggle to get through the argument of the writer. A genial play, considered one of the most important post-war modernist works, is absurd and surreal to the point it is almost mundane.

It is impossible to describe it in a short summary, because nothing happens. The whole play of eighty-something pages is revolving around the single fact of nothing happening. Two main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, are doomed to wait for mysterious Godot every day of their lives, without remembering what happened to them before and encountering curious people on their way (or rather, "not-way", as they never move from their spot). Samuel Beckett's prose feels like a fever dream that surprisingly becomes clearer the more you read into it. Vladimir and Estragon represent two essential parts of a human - body and mind — and this is the reason why all their attempts to leave each other are useless. They are stuck in the world that initially does not have any meaning, and the only single thing that provides them with a pitiful identity is their task to wait for Godot.

I cannot emphasize enough how vivid and emotional Beckett's text feels despite its apparent dryness and rhetorical simplicity. I did not notice the moment when I started roleplaying the dialogues aloud, following the stage directions, and whispering the especially striking quotes again and again, like a spell. In the traditional sense of the word, the language of "Waiting for Godot" is far away from literary or profound, but the way Samuel Beckett manipulates it in different character voices felt deeply amazing to me.

The play has one of the most complex and curious character relationships I've ever seen in my life. While not exactly likeable, Vladimir and Estragon are so easy to be compassionate about that the reader involuntarily feels like a part of their weird group. The same can be said about the pair of Pozzo and Lucky, whose dynamics are way more concerning and strange, yet still developing throughout the play. It is difficult for me to say if I liked "Waiting for Godot" or no - and I think, the author intended it this way. Nevertheless, it made me feel and reflect on a lot of things and worked perfectly as a play meant to be seen in theaters.