Real Love Abides- thoughts on a review

Sept. 1956, William Barrett wrote a review of the Three Novels by Beckett, called "Real Love Abides." I like how this guy describes reading Beckett as having "to take him in short gulps, coming back again and again." This guy wasn't impressed by Beckett's writing at first, but it sounds like he read it twice. The first time, he read as if it were a "normal" novel, and the second, in gulps, in gasps, it would seem to me. Barrett describes him as a wounded bird, who tries to give it all out before he dies. He calls him an artist, who takes the paint from the canvas, but keeps the increasingly white surface exciting. It makes me think of those last moments, we talked about. Like the woman in the Inner Light or Socrates. You know in movies, when dying characters noisily grasp for breath, all raspy and rattling? I'm starting to think that they might not be trying to rake in more moments or more life, but instead, they're trying to get rid of something while they still can. I could be wrong, but there's kind of a beauty in it. It's like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, when they guy chooses to release all his emotions, instead of retreating to his mind and holding everything in. I guess, by that time, you'd have everything to lose and nothing to gain, or everything to gain by losing everything. I don't know.