We Measure Distances by the Echo in Beckett’s Dialogues

At first, the matter seems simple. Treat books as an element of architecture. A book, a brick—what difference does it make? Arrange a set of similar elements. A simple task. Then, once we have mastered these simple things, we read in Lacan: 

‘In the beginning was the Word’, with which I entirely agree. But before the beginning, where was it? That is what is truly unfathomable.

(Jacques Lacan, The Triumph of Religion).

All right: arrange something out of books—but where? In what? What plot, what space do we have at our disposal? How many dimensions does it have? Is it external, internal, dual? A professional architect who begins to ponder this loses their footing; their confidence in action deserts them. They quickly realise that they are suspended in an abyss through which not even Captain Nemo’s Nautilus could move. The sense of time disappears (and that is a direct route to professional failure). All that remains is to measure distances by the echo in Beckett’s dialogues.