My girlfriend comes from a little mountain town in NC called Hendersonville, and every time we are up that way we pop into this used bookstore we really like. One of the last times we were there, I came across a weathered collection of Tennessee Williams plays. It was only a buck so I bought it.
Now, I mention this to say: I really enjoyed all of the works in this collection. While Williams is certainly best known for his Streetcar Named Desire or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, all of his works are affecting and worth reading. He has a very direct way of illuminating the weaknesses of the human condition. He chronicles the way we pine for love and respect and approval, and how— even upon getting these things— we still find ourselves empty. Needless to say, as a Christian writer, this is where I would typically mention Jesus, but I’m not going to go there. Williams’s material doesn’t ask us to look for redemption from our broken condition; instead, it simply puts the spotlight on our broken, selfish nature, and allows us that very rare opportunity: to look at ourselves— our wants and our needs and our hopes and our fears— with complete objectivity.
I know lots of readers think Williams to be somewhat self-indulgent, but I disagree. I learned alot about myself from these works, and I think, should you go revisit some of his material, you might learn some stuff about your own self, too.
In a related story, I kind of want to get a white lab someday and call him Tennessee.
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