Murphy's friends and familiars are simulacra of Murphy, fragmented and incomplete. The combination of particularity and absurdity gives Murphy's world its painful definition, but the sheer comic energy of Beckett's prose releases characters and readers alike into exuberance.
They seldom think twice, and ask very few questions. Until one night over the poker table, they encounter a pulp writer with wild ideas and an unscrupulous private detective, leading them into what is either a classic mystery, a senseless maze of corpses, or an inextricable fever dream .
When night falls my bed is an air balloon. I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. I float above treetops where the nub-nubs are sleeping and flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping; ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glass, a floog with its velvet nose bent to the grass.
My birthday's coming up so soon, I'll need new clothes to wear. But most of all, I need to know, How shall I style my hair? Will it be dreads or a twist out?
It's a beautiful moment) worry has accompanied her at every turn. This memoir is a joyful reflection on just how to live - and sometimes even thrive (sometimes not) - with anxiety.