R&R: Classics-- Arthur Miller

Like all students who’ve passed middle school, I’ve read Shakespeare. Unfortunately, the Bard never really wove his spell on me, and I never warmed to his work.

Arthur Miller’s famous “Death of a Salesman,” is my first exposure to plays since Shakespeare—and I have to admit, I wasn’t exactly optimistic when I checked it out.

After all, compared to books, plays seem short and empty—cut off, not as rich. A pancake compared to a pastry.

Besides that first negative reaction, though, I found myself opening up a little, putting the pessimism behind me. After all, I’d never really read a play, not with my heart searching for its meaning and my mind trying its best to grasp it.

So, here it goes.


Death of a Salesman
Written May 29, 2010

Read May 29, 2010

All throughout my reading of this play, my mind was working overtime—trying to grasp why this play was named a classic. By the end, my beliefs about plays being somehow “less” than books were completely wiped away.

“Death of a Salesman,” despite its lack of paragraphs and long descriptions, (so frequently used in books), somehow makes its characters “real,” just through their dialogue. It’s amazing, really.

Miller doesn’t go into detail describing their faces, figures, and expressions, and yet I can almost “see” them.

The plot is also as intricately woven as a modern thriller. Bits and pieces of information are given, until the shocking, final revelation—the work is as suspenseful as an action movie.

Willy Loman is a dreamer who is pursuing all the wrong things because he doesn’t understand his true desires—the acceptance, liking, and esteem of others. When he was younger, he wanted to go off to Alaska with his brother, Ben, but decided to stay behind and become a salesman instead, because he thought that the life of a salesman would bring the respect he craved.

Throughout the play, Ben, (who died years ago), is constantly “with” Willy, representing lost dreams and “if only’s.” His disappearance eventually causes Willy, whose sanity has been slipping, to go over the edge, causing his death.

Willy also struggles with guilt. When his affair with another woman was witnessed by his oldest son, Biff called him a liar and ran out. Ever since, Willy has been consumed with guilt, causing him to lash out at the son he feels he has lost, despite Biff’s attempts to make peace.

Willy is ultrasensitive to anything resembling criticism, and continually believes that Biff’s inability to find a good job is because he (Biff) is trying to spite him (Willy)—not because Biff is not cut out for the job, (the real reason).

In a way, all three Loman men are trying to find meaning in their lives. Willy, who wants the respect of all around him, knows he doesn’t have it, but doesn’t understand why. He believes that the respect he seeks is tied to being a salesman, and despite needing a job, doesn’t take one when Charley, a family friend, offers it to him.

Biff tries to find meaning, wanting to follow his dreams, but he’s tied down by his mom, Linda, who tries to get him to reconcile with his father (despite not knowing the cause of their estrangement).

He’s also bogged down by his father, whom he still loves, despite Willy’s unrealistic expectations and his continual insinuations that spite is what keeps Biff from succeeding.

Happy, the youngest son, tries to find meaning in women and pleasure. He lies and exaggerates to keep his father and mother happy, smooth-talking his way out of tough situations.

What really hit me was how the emotional relationships, especially the complexity of the one between Willy and Biff, are shown so clearly—despite the “short” format of the play. Willy’s downward spiral and mental instability is also shown clearly.

“Death of a Salesman” shows the unsteadiness of the human emotion. Willy continually changes his mind, arguing for something, and then against it. He is unreasonable, and then reasonable—and this isn’t just because of his wandering mind.

While reading, I saw clearly that Willy’s tendency to lash out is one that exhibits itself in our world today. Other emotions, mood swings, and reactions are also mirror images of real life, providing an insightful look into the human soul as well as a good story.


The Crucible
Written: 12/24/11

Read: 12/23/11 - 12/24/11

Oh my God.
Literally.

I should have known better after reading "Death of a Salesman," but I really was not ready for this play to suck me in and spit me out the way it did. Even now, I'm shivering at the raw injustice and hysteria displayed in "The Crucible."

The summary on the back cover states that, "The place is Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, an enclave of rigid piety huddled on the edge of a wilderness. Its inhabitants believe unquestioningly in their own sanctity. But in Arthur Miller's edgy masterpiece, that very belief will have poisonous consequences when a vengeful teenager accuses a rival of witchcraft--and then when those accusations multiply to consume the entire village."

This book made my heart ache and rebel against the injustice done--the characters were so real and vivid that as Salem sinks deeper and deeper into mass panic without regard to the truth, the tension in my shoulders rose, until they ached. And are still aching as I write this.

This frightening thing is, I can understand how such a thing might happen. As the readers, we are horrified and furious, (and those words barely scratch the surface), at the actions of Danforth, Hathorne, and Parris, but that is only because we know the truth. We know that the accusations are lies.

But they don't--and that's what strikes closest to home, that these people aren't committing crimes knowingly, (with the exception of a select few), but believing that they are doing right. And yet, they have no peace, and the Parris is shown growing more and more afraid as the deaths pile up.

The play depicts the lowest forms of human life, the deepest, darkest places where we sink, but at the same time, does not neglect the flashes of desperate beauty that reminds the readers why humanity is not completely lost. Rebecca Nurse's refusal to save her life through lies, Elizabeth's quiet love for her husband, and the Proctor's eventual triumph over his guilt as he regains his life, even as he loses it.

I highly doubt Arthur Miller believes in witches, or the supernatural, for he even goes on a tangent about how society brands its enemies as evil, and those branded often turn around and brand society as evil--but it is difficult not to feel an icy hand on your heart as you finish this book, even if its only in reflection of the horrors humanity can commit in the name of God.