Waiting for Godot

I'm afraid this is one of those terrible, wonderful books. It's terrible because it's the story of two people who are lost and unhappy and confused. It's wonderful because something about the story feels deeply true.

There isn't much plot. It's a play, with a simple setting, and simple dialogue. Two men are standing around, talking “to pass the time,” and waiting for the arrival of the mysterious Godot. They don't seem to know why they are waiting for him; the implication is that Godot will hurt them if they don't continue to wait. Yet he never arrives, and there is little for them to do while they wait.

A few other people arrive and depart, and they, too, seem to have little understanding of their own intentions and actions.

I disliked and liked this play very much. I don't know what to make of it myself.