I recently had an argument with my mother, which rarely happens. We didn’t argue about my spending habits, or my post-graduation plans, or my grades, or any other typical area where a college kid might butt heads with her parents. Instead, we argued about books.
After finishing Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman over spring break, I couldn’t help talking about it with the rest of my family. As we drank coffee together one afternoon, my mom asked me what made that play so special. I explained the plot to her. She looked at me for a few seconds after I finished summarizing, and asked, “So, it isn’t a comedy?”
I found myself at a loss. “Well, it has some funny moments, but no. Ultimately it is a tragedy.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t want to read it, then.”
And with that comment, our argument began. How could she nonchalantly write off great works of literature just because they include some sad parts?
Howard, Morgan, "The Dark Side of Happily Ever After" (2018). English Class Publications. 45.