Disclosure alert! Malone is going to die.

A cacophonic older man lies in his bed. Ultimate terrestrial residence, a room and its window, by which it watches the life, or what takes the place of it, to pass. Extension of his prehensile limbs, a staff with which he obviates his defunct mobility—some forgotten or unknown objects as the last witnesses of his stay on earth. While waiting to pay his passage to Charron the notcher, he fills a notebook with a final and pitiful attempt to prolong his post-mortem days by narrating a fable full of sound and fury, which means nothing, like, as William would say, that bloody prankster.
With Malone Dies continues Beckett's famous trilogy. However, if this opus gains clarity compared to the disconcerting Molloy, to which it refers by narrative motifs, it is not confident that it is more interesting. The reader finishes the second part of the triptych, still doubtful, acknowledging that it is not without value, that something is going on, that it would be hard to define.