The Art of Invention: Anti-narration in Beckett's Molloy

There are expectations when a reader comes to a work of fiction. At the very least, the reader expects to follow a narrative that will begin and, through a series of events, end. The reader anticipates an objective reality in which characters interact and rules are set for the world those characters will interact in. Although the characters belong to a constructed reality created by the author, the reader expects that reality to never be reconstructed during the course of the text. Written text, however, presents a unique enterprise in that the written word may be easily rearranged and manipulated in order to convey anything or nothing as the author intends. Anti-narration, even anti-language, can be achieved through disarrangement of written text and can potentially break all preconceived notions of traditional literature forcing the reader to view the written word in a different light. Samuel Beckett explores this pliability of language in his novel, Molloy. Beckett uses an anti-narrator, Molloy, in order to demonstrate that the objective reality of a written fiction can be reconstructed or constructed as the narrator moves through the text, thus giving the narrator the ability to create his own subjective reality.

Molloy begins to relate his tale in an obvious state of utter confusion. He cannot clearly explain to the reader what has happened to him or where he has been. He tells the reader, “These are things we shall try to discover. But these are things we must not take seriously,” implying that what he is about to relate may have absolutely no truth to it (17). In fact, the impression is given that Molloy is inventing the entire story as he is going along. He has a starting point, his mother’s room, and from there every detail is invented. The structure of the first section, one solid paragraph with no breaks, gives the distinct impression that this narrative is occurring inside the narrator’s own mind. Molloy does relate the tale of a journey he took to find his mother’s house, yet throughout it he continually reminds the reader that he is constructing the story: “Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong... such a thing is conceivable, since I conceive it... am I imagining it, in the interests of the narrative” (41, 66, 75)? After every fact is dispensed, Molloy then questions its validity, which ordinarily would be very important for the reader to take note of for purposes of deciding the reliability of the narrator, yet that purpose is moot here. Molloy is clearly unreliable without his reassurance of that fact, and ultimately it does not matter what truly happened to him. The reader can never know.

At the end of Molloy’s journey, he begins to use the term ‘region’ to describe where he is and where he is going. It can be inferred that by region, he means reality. He tells the reader, “...regions do not suddenly end, as far as I know, but gradually merge into one another” (88). This idea that realities merge together rather than end is consistent with the notion of inventing or constructing reality because Molloy tells the reader that the narrative he is building is absolutely false. However, it is the reality the reader must accept because there is no other alternative. Molloy, as an anti-narrator, goes beyond the status of what is typically known as an unreliable narrator because he freely admits his narrative is false and no other reality is offered.

Molloy’s confusion with the events grows as he departs further and further from civilization and enters into the forest, which he describes as one of the amenities of his region. The forest is analogous to a state of confusion, and he admits he, “...knew them well, the amenities of my region, and I considered that the forest was no worse” (116). Molloy prefers a reality rooted in confusion to any other reality: something he has clearly established for the reader throughout his narrative. “I did my best to go in a circle, hoping in this way to go in a straight line,” Molloy states as his plan for exiting the forest (115). At this point, the reader is perfectly content with Molloy’s acceptance of the confusion of reality as being no worse than any other state of reality. If Molloy is constructing the reality of the events himself, then there is no reason why he could not choose confusion to be his reality. When Molloy finally exits into the light of the plains, he confesses, “I did not see it from afar...but suddenly I was in it, I opened my eyes and saw I had arrived. And the reason for that was probably this, that for some time past I had not opened my eyes or seldom” (122). Why did he not simply will himself out of the forest and construct the narrative thus? His point is clear: No one can exit the forest through his own cognitive ability. It can only happen by chance.

The idea of multiple realities, a subjective or constructed reality, is one difficult to comprehend. It is difficult to look at the world and understand that the reality of it could be different if chosen to be. The concept is a source of confusion. However, through written text, and specifically the use of an anti-narrator, there can be a physical demonstration of that kind of construction. Molloy, as an anti-narrator, is able to contradict himself and have it be perfectly acceptable. He constructs the world around him as he sees fit.


Works Cited

Beckett, Samuel. Molloy. New York: Grove Press, 1955.