What if Socrates were the protagonist of The Odyssey?
Well, for one thing, it wouldn't be called The Odyssey because its central character is Odysseus. So what would The Socratessy (or whatever it would be called) be like?
And what if, in such a story, Socrates had a bicycle?
I have to admit that I never pondered such a scenario. Perhaps it means that I'm not as creative or deep a thinker as I've fancied myself to be. Or it may simply mean that I'm not Samuel Beckett.
Although I've read his poetry and most of his drama (of which I've seen performances), I am guilty of ignoring his fiction. Why? I don't know. But after coming across an article by transportation policy analyst Gideon Forman, I plan to read Molloy.
Like his best-known works, Waiting for Godot (En attendant Godot) and Endgame (Fin de partie), Beckett wrote Molloy in French. (He was born and raised in Ireland but spent most of his adult life in France.) The title character is, like Socrates, a kind of brilliant philosopher who is homeless. He is on a quest to reunite with his elderly mother; Odysseus is trying to get home to his wife. And, in another sort-of-parallel to the ancient Greek tale, Molloy is not certain that he will arrive--or that he is even on his way to his destination.
Molloy, who has leg problems, nonetheless undertakes his journey on a bicycle. "Crippled though I was, I was no mean cyclist," he says. As Forman points out, however, the bicycle signals poverty: Molloy can't afford bus or train fare, much less an automobile.
But, as Forman points out, Beckett--whether or not it was his intention--shows what a democratizing force the bicycle is: Even in his poverty, with his handicaps, Molloy still can ride it.
Perhaps most interestingly of all, the bicycle becomes a sort of companion like the eponymous donkey of Juan Ramon Jiminez's Platero y yo (Platero and I). "Thus we cleared these difficult straits, my bicycle and I, together," Molloy says of his mount. I imagine that Molloy--and perhaps Beckett himself--would understand the grief I feel over crashing Arielle, my Mercian Audax, or the bikes I've lost to theft.
Could it be that Monsieur Beckett embedded advocacy for cycling (and other sustainable transportation) in a story about uncertainty?
Well, for one thing, it wouldn't be called The Odyssey because its central character is Odysseus. So what would The Socratessy (or whatever it would be called) be like?
And what if, in such a story, Socrates had a bicycle?
I have to admit that I never pondered such a scenario. Perhaps it means that I'm not as creative or deep a thinker as I've fancied myself to be. Or it may simply mean that I'm not Samuel Beckett.
Although I've read his poetry and most of his drama (of which I've seen performances), I am guilty of ignoring his fiction. Why? I don't know. But after coming across an article by transportation policy analyst Gideon Forman, I plan to read Molloy.
Like his best-known works, Waiting for Godot (En attendant Godot) and Endgame (Fin de partie), Beckett wrote Molloy in French. (He was born and raised in Ireland but spent most of his adult life in France.) The title character is, like Socrates, a kind of brilliant philosopher who is homeless. He is on a quest to reunite with his elderly mother; Odysseus is trying to get home to his wife. And, in another sort-of-parallel to the ancient Greek tale, Molloy is not certain that he will arrive--or that he is even on his way to his destination.
Molloy, who has leg problems, nonetheless undertakes his journey on a bicycle. "Crippled though I was, I was no mean cyclist," he says. As Forman points out, however, the bicycle signals poverty: Molloy can't afford bus or train fare, much less an automobile.
But, as Forman points out, Beckett--whether or not it was his intention--shows what a democratizing force the bicycle is: Even in his poverty, with his handicaps, Molloy still can ride it.
Perhaps most interestingly of all, the bicycle becomes a sort of companion like the eponymous donkey of Juan Ramon Jiminez's Platero y yo (Platero and I). "Thus we cleared these difficult straits, my bicycle and I, together," Molloy says of his mount. I imagine that Molloy--and perhaps Beckett himself--would understand the grief I feel over crashing Arielle, my Mercian Audax, or the bikes I've lost to theft.
Could it be that Monsieur Beckett embedded advocacy for cycling (and other sustainable transportation) in a story about uncertainty?
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