How It Is (Comment c’est, 1961; English version 1964)
by Samuel Beckett
(Analysis)
Analysis of How It Is by Samuel Beckett
Samuel Beckett’s How It Is stands as one of the most
radical experiments in twentieth-century literature, a work that confronts the
reader with existence reduced to its most elemental conditions. Through its
fragmented language, cyclical structure, and bleak imagery, the novel explores
the nature of human consciousness, the instability of identity, and the
persistence of suffering in a world devoid of meaning. Rather than telling a
story in the conventional sense, How It Is enacts an experience—one of
endurance, repetition, and uncertain selfhood.
One of the most striking features of the novel is its
formal fragmentation. Beckett eliminates punctuation and conventional sentence
structure, producing a text that mimics the broken rhythms of thought and
breath. Language no longer functions as a transparent medium for meaning;
instead, it becomes a record of mental struggle. The narrator’s phrases emerge
haltingly, often repeated or revised, suggesting a mind grasping for coherence
in an environment that offers none. This stylistic disruption reflects
Beckett’s belief that language is both necessary and inadequate: it is the only
means of asserting existence, yet it continually fails to capture reality with
clarity or certainty.
The setting of mud and darkness serves as a powerful
symbolic landscape. Stripped of social context, history, and geography, the
world of How It Is represents existence at its most primitive level. The mud
immobilizes the body, turning movement into labor and progress into illusion.
Darkness erases vision, forcing the narrator inward, toward memory and
imagination—both of which prove unreliable. This environment externalizes the
narrator’s psychological state: consciousness itself is mired, resistant, and
obscure. Beckett thus collapses the distinction between inner and outer worlds,
presenting suffering as both physical and metaphysical.
Central to the novel is the cyclical relationship
between domination and submission, most clearly embodied in the pairing of the
narrator and Pim. Their relationship is defined by violence, control, and
dependency. The narrator’s authority over Pim is neither justified nor
explained; it simply exists as part of the system. Yet this power is temporary
and reversible. The narrator gradually realizes that he may once have occupied Pim’s
position and may do so again. Through this cycle, Beckett undermines stable
notions of identity and morality. Master and victim are not moral categories
but interchangeable roles within an endless pattern of suffering.
Memory plays a crucial role in the narrator’s attempt
to impose meaning on his condition. The narrator recalls—or believes he
recalls—a time before the mud, a world of light and human interaction. However,
these memories are fragmented and possibly derived from books or secondhand
sources rather than lived experience. Beckett thereby questions the reliability
of memory as a foundation for identity. The past does not offer explanation or
consolation; instead, it adds another layer of uncertainty. Memory becomes a
narrative the mind invents to survive the present.
The novel’s absence of resolution reinforces its
philosophical pessimism. There is no redemption, revelation, or escape from the
mud. The ending does not conclude but simply stops, suggesting that existence
continues beyond the final page in the same repetitive manner. This refusal of
closure aligns How It Is with Beckett’s broader absurdist vision, in which
human life is characterized not by progress or purpose but by persistence.
Meaning is not discovered; it is endured—or abandoned altogether.
Ultimately, How It Is can be read as a meditation on
the minimal conditions of being. When social structures, moral frameworks, and
coherent narratives are stripped away, what remains is a suffering body and a
struggling voice. Yet the voice continues to speak. In this persistence lies
the novel’s bleak paradox: although existence appears meaningless and cruel,
the act of articulation itself becomes a form of resistance. Beckett does not
offer hope, but he affirms endurance—the grim, stubborn continuation of
consciousness in the face of nothingness.

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