This is the second in the famous trilogy of novels written by Samuel Beckett in the late 1940s. An old man is dying in a room. His bowl of soup comes, his pots are emptied. He waits to die. And while he waits, he constructs stories, mainly to pass the time. Saposcat, the Lambert family, Macmann and his nurse Moll. Other figures weave in and out of his vision and his imagination. This remarkable soliloquy, so intrinsically Beckettian, is as important as Waiting for Godot or Endgame, the famous plays that made his name.