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109 pages
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First published January 1, 1951
An inspiring, tragically funny story about Vladimir and Estragon who are waiting for Godot. They fill their time with senseless discussions and futile contemplation. Nothing really happens in the story, at some point the characters consider suicide by hanging themselves from the tree, but they refrain from doing so out of practical reasons. The tree btw is the only object on the stage, the rest is just barren land. Even when two new characters are introduced (Pozzo and Lucky), the story doesn't progress. They are still waiting for Godot. Godot of course never arrives.
Samuel Beckett notoriously didn't give any interpretations to the play - and it might be the power of the play that everyone can give their own interpretation to it. To me, the most general of interpretations occurred: it's a story about how we fill our time on earth. We’re all waiting around, not really doing anything proactive. Waiting for that one moment when it’s all going to change. Waiting for Godot.