A review by ellacgoose1
After the Fall by Arthur Miller
5.0
psa: nothing here will be most likely even remotely concise, so my apologies
but okay this was one of the most beautiful things i've read in a long time. i already adore plays, both acting in and reading them but this was just...i'm speechless. i'm sitting in my geomatry class right now trying not to get emotional over this and its just hard as i want to scream from the sheer emotion this play brought me to
it's probably rather evident that i like to include mass amounts of quotes in my reviews. i could quote this entire play. i can't think of a line that didn't stick out or mean nothing. i truly wish i could simply transcribe the entire play into this review but that might take time i don't have, plus i'd much rather share my thoughts. but don't worry, i can't not include quotes altogether.
"maybe the dead do bother her"
the medium in which this play takes place was one of the special things about it. the entire thing took place in the mental state of quentin, the main character, which was something i loved. i once wrote a short play (*sighs at myself*) about different aspects of a specific person, sort of their personality traits but personified, coming to life one night to discuss the individual. & that took place in this strange, dark, mental state of mind. & then i read after the fall and i thought "hey! he wrote it like i did!" needless to say it was stunning
also i'm just realizing that goodreads now has a character count so you know how long your reviews can be. interesting. anyways
"yes! that we conspired to violate the past, and the past is holy and its horrors are the holiest of all!"
imagine being so in love with the world and its people and love itself but just doing so many things that hurt you and other people. i think people like that are special. they love others so much but sometimes they don't realize what they're doing. the world is a full of sensitivity. not the kind of sensitivity we see today but the kind arthur miller wrote about was something unordinary in our culture today. it was something soft, innocent, and inexplicably honest
"quentin: and i am full of hatred, i, maggie, the sweet over of all life - i hate the world
maggie: get out of here!
quentin: hate women, hate men, hate all who will not grovel at my feet proclaiming my limitless love for ever and ever!
she spills a handfull of pills into her palm. he speaks desperately, trying not to physically take the pills from her
throw them in the sea; death in the sea and drink your life instead; your rotton, betrayed, hateful mockery of a life. that power is death, maggie! do the hardest thing of all - see our own hatred, and live!"
i so badly desire to play maggie in this show. someone who knows me needs to read the second act of this beautiful play & maybe they'd understand.
"quentin: all right, you lie down, and i'll put a little music on.
maggie: no you; you, sit down. and take off your shoes. i mean just to rest. you don't have to do anything. she goes to turn on the machine, turns it on, jazz. was i sleeping?
quentin: for a moment, i think
maggie: was she... was anybody else here?
quentin: no. just me
maggie: is there smoke?
quentin: your mother's dead and gone, dear, she can't hurt you anymore, don't be afraid
maggie, in a helpless voice of a child : where you going to put me?
quentin his chest threatening a cry : nowhere, dear - he'll decide with you. he might be here tonight
maggie: see? i'll lay down. she hurries to the bed, lies down. see?
quentin: good
maggie: 'member how used to talk to me till i went to sleep?
quentin: yes, dear. he sits beside the bed
maggie - she struggles for lucidity, for some little pose of quiet charm it nice in chicago?"
later
"maggie, we've got to have some humility towards ourselves; we were both born of many errors, a human being has to forgive himself! you want me to say i killed you? all right, i killed you. now what? what do you want?"
solid 5/5 stars. arthur miller is such a talented playwright. sotd: ob-la-di, ob-la-da by the beatles
but okay this was one of the most beautiful things i've read in a long time. i already adore plays, both acting in and reading them but this was just...i'm speechless. i'm sitting in my geomatry class right now trying not to get emotional over this and its just hard as i want to scream from the sheer emotion this play brought me to
it's probably rather evident that i like to include mass amounts of quotes in my reviews. i could quote this entire play. i can't think of a line that didn't stick out or mean nothing. i truly wish i could simply transcribe the entire play into this review but that might take time i don't have, plus i'd much rather share my thoughts. but don't worry, i can't not include quotes altogether.
"maybe the dead do bother her"
the medium in which this play takes place was one of the special things about it. the entire thing took place in the mental state of quentin, the main character, which was something i loved. i once wrote a short play (*sighs at myself*) about different aspects of a specific person, sort of their personality traits but personified, coming to life one night to discuss the individual. & that took place in this strange, dark, mental state of mind. & then i read after the fall and i thought "hey! he wrote it like i did!" needless to say it was stunning
also i'm just realizing that goodreads now has a character count so you know how long your reviews can be. interesting. anyways
"yes! that we conspired to violate the past, and the past is holy and its horrors are the holiest of all!"
imagine being so in love with the world and its people and love itself but just doing so many things that hurt you and other people. i think people like that are special. they love others so much but sometimes they don't realize what they're doing. the world is a full of sensitivity. not the kind of sensitivity we see today but the kind arthur miller wrote about was something unordinary in our culture today. it was something soft, innocent, and inexplicably honest
"quentin: and i am full of hatred, i, maggie, the sweet over of all life - i hate the world
maggie: get out of here!
quentin: hate women, hate men, hate all who will not grovel at my feet proclaiming my limitless love for ever and ever!
she spills a handfull of pills into her palm. he speaks desperately, trying not to physically take the pills from her
throw them in the sea; death in the sea and drink your life instead; your rotton, betrayed, hateful mockery of a life. that power is death, maggie! do the hardest thing of all - see our own hatred, and live!"
i so badly desire to play maggie in this show. someone who knows me needs to read the second act of this beautiful play & maybe they'd understand.
"quentin: all right, you lie down, and i'll put a little music on.
maggie: no you; you, sit down. and take off your shoes. i mean just to rest. you don't have to do anything. she goes to turn on the machine, turns it on, jazz. was i sleeping?
quentin: for a moment, i think
maggie: was she... was anybody else here?
quentin: no. just me
maggie: is there smoke?
quentin: your mother's dead and gone, dear, she can't hurt you anymore, don't be afraid
maggie, in a helpless voice of a child : where you going to put me?
quentin his chest threatening a cry : nowhere, dear - he'll decide with you. he might be here tonight
maggie: see? i'll lay down. she hurries to the bed, lies down. see?
quentin: good
maggie: 'member how used to talk to me till i went to sleep?
quentin: yes, dear. he sits beside the bed
maggie - she struggles for lucidity, for some little pose of quiet charm it nice in chicago?"
later
"maggie, we've got to have some humility towards ourselves; we were both born of many errors, a human being has to forgive himself! you want me to say i killed you? all right, i killed you. now what? what do you want?"
solid 5/5 stars. arthur miller is such a talented playwright. sotd: ob-la-di, ob-la-da by the beatles