Before I started reading the book, I didn't know very much about the absurdist movement. I'd seen Samuel Beckett's "Waiting For Godot" in New York with Robin Williams and I faked my way through some kind of under- standing, but that was about it.
White's book got me so interested that I rushed to the library and started reading all I could find. Itās late and down right dead, so Iāve been pretty engrossed in the book.
Absurdists believe that you don't have any chance in this world, that your life is basically predestined- but never for greatness. No matter what choices you make, you'll end up making the wrong one and it will come crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. A very upbeat, positive way of looking at life, if you ask me. I don't know if I agree with this, but it does make for charming conversation over a caffé mocha.
"Caffé mocha, please."
I looked up from my book and into the eyes of a very handsome young man in his twenties. He'd been in twice already this week, had been coming in like clockwork over the past two or three weeks and always ordered the same thing. He orders a mocha, sits at a table by the window, reads a book for an hour, orders a mocha to go and leaves.
"You're becoming quite the regular."
"Yes, I guess I am."
"Are you a student?"
"No."
"Really? I always see you reading. I figured that you were doing homework."
"No, just reading."
"What book?" I asked, hoping the book's title would offer me a clue or two about him, since he sure as hell wasn't going to tell me anything.
He pulled the book out of his jacket and showed me the cover.
It was "The Great Santini" by Pat Conroy.
