When I was 15 and in high school, I was made to read 'Death of a Salesman' for literature. Have you read it? Did you enjoy it? Did you read it when you were 15? I did. I told you that already right? Well now I am going to tell you why I should not have read 'Death of a Salesman' when I was 15.
Reason 1 : It is not much like Bewitched. I lived my early years, until I was 9, in Hobart. It was pretty idyllic. We had a house with a rumpus room and a ramp that stretched up to the front door. We had a 50s shack by the beach that we shared with our extended family. We watched 'Bewitched' and 'That Girl'. I could see that salespeople had cheery lives and lovely wives, like Samantha and Anne-Marie. Or so I thought. Mr Miller would soon fix that. I was living in a fool's paradise, apparently.
Reason 2 : There are no Ant Hills. I moved to the far north west of WA when I was 9. I lived there until I was 14. There were very few shops, no subways and tons of tumbleweeds and red dirt ant nests. Not only was Willy's Brooklyn the farthest thing from Port Hedland you can imagine, but it bared no resemblance to any part of Australia I had seen in my short years, or wanted to see (from what I read via Mr Miller). It is not that I didn't WANT to see more of the world in general. It's just that it might have been nice if it was cast in a bit more of a positive light. Also perhaps I don't really need to know that, for some, it's all going to end in tears and there is no point bothering. Not at 15, anyway.
Reason 3 : Bucket hats. I had never seen anyone wearing a hat and suit to work. Mostly they wore safari jackets and bucket hats. Maybe that is kind of better than suits and hats. I'm not sure. Anyway... it felt like some kind of Hitchcock-ian scene, with all those hats and suits. I was waiting with great anticipation for the birds to come and cart Willy away. Or for some Mata-Hari to throw him into the boot of a car and transport him to some fabulous Bond style locale. Or something. No such luck for Willy. Or me. Sigh. (Also I did not really care to read about mortgages, lady friends etc. That was a bit dull and/or unkind.)
Reason 4 : I was not grown up. I was 15. I was smart and all... there were lots of books I could not get enough of... poetry even... but I am not sure how reading an American Literary Classic like 'Death of a Salesman' is meant to make any sense to a girl who would rather be reading 'Puberty Blues' or 'Superfudge' and teasing her hair with lemonade whilst listening to The Cure on repeat. Having had no experience of miserable marriages and dysfunctional relationships in general, it all seemed as startling as a True Crime photo, only a bit less bloody (and a lot more puzzling).
In conclusion, I would like to say, that I apologise for not liking your play when I was 15, Mr Miller. I will read it again and see if I like it any better now... but I think it would be great if kids could read quality literature that is relevant (or mildly recognizable) to their own lives a bit more... and not be turned off reading serious or classic literature by it's careless or too-early introduction. I think it would be great to get kids excited about reading, instead of having them numbly tick off the requisite tomes.
Thank you.
Pip
xx
