Not So Empty

Back to yesterday's question, and let's extend it a little. What is it about reading Beckett and Joyce (I just can't help but link them - the dynamic duo of Modernism) so life-affirming?

I suppose the humour helps, despite its often dark and forbidding nature. (Not so unusual, by the way. Typical Irish, and I grew up with it on the streets of Manchester.)

But the key thing is the fact that we know they are telling the truth, and, somehow, the truth does set us free. I suppose because of the wonderful sense that we (or, rather, they) are able to tell it, face it. As Eliot reminds us, as a species we simply cannot bear too much of what is real. So to be able to face at least a little is sort of refreshing.

That's why I can't go along with all that power of positive thinking blabber too much of the time. Basically it makes some kind of sense, and can be very useful, but ultimately you can't rely on faking things. The glass isn't really half full, nor is it half empty. It's both.