A text ... as an autobiography: Beckett's dream of women after being ... raped by one of them.
His dream is a, now and then, hilarious and blasphemous, but mostly, irrelevant stream of grotesque and excessive verbal displays and of exaggerated metaphors. He uses different language combinations and different quotations of other authors. So, his model is obvious, but he's a bad epigone. This book has no plot, no plan and misses the basic art of writing: it reproduces feelings, instead of arousing them.
One should read a comment by another Nobel Prize winner, Naguib Mahfouz, in 'Adrift on the Nile', where he punches Beckett KO: life could be absurd, but not the royalties.
I consider the work of Samuel Beckett as grossly overrated. A good play is 'Waiting for Godot', which is in fact an evocation of people who didn't understand the words of Nietzsche's Zarathustra 'God is dead'. But afterwards it became mannerism, just a pose.

I bought and reviewed this book a few weeks ago. You choose not to post it for the obvious reason that you want to sell books, either good or bad ones.

O'Brien is one of those writers that I tend to disagree with but find engaging and well worth the time, so I picked up "On the Eve of the Millennium" as soon as I saw it. O'Brien has never hid his differences with Christianity and in particular Catholicism. However, in revealing his daily prayer for the Pope's death, his obvious hatred of Tradition Catholicism got the best of him. I stopped reading at that point and have no desire to pick up the book again.