The book: A Streetcar Named Desire
The author: Tennessee Williams
The rating: 3 stars
Humble reader, you might be looking at my entries and thinking, 'One of these things is not like the other.' And yes, you'd be correct: Streetcar is a play, not a book, so you've got me there.
In all seriousness, Streetcar is not my usual reading preference. I'm not a big fan of 'realistic' fiction; I don't read YA because I can't 'handle' the big-girl books, but because I sincerely like YA better. It's not even truly a comparison between YA and adult; I simply prefer genre to literary fiction, so tales like Streetcar don't usually do it for me. I love Shakespeare; I love Conan Doyle; I love Baroness Orczy; I hella-love Aldous Huxley (well, mostly just Brave New World, but that's a discussion for another day). Streetcar being an older book doesn't colour my judgement nor does it being a classic, but stories like Streetcar (see also A Tale of Two Cities) just feel dry. But, I was assigned to read the play for IB English, and if I want to make my 50 book goal, skipping out on reviews isn't the way to do it.
The highlight of Streetcar for me would have to be the characters. This probably isn't a news flash for anyone, but they're incredibly well-written and multifaceted. No one was truly our 'hero' and no one was completely sympathetic. Then again, there was no character that never had a moment that you couldn't complete relate to, even the terrifying, animalistic Stanley. People walk the line between good guys and bad guys; it's less clear cut than some works would have you believe. Looking at Streetcar in retrospect, it's fairly obvious to say Blanche was the protagonist and Stanley the antagonist, but reading it felt almost like being unable to see the forest for the trees; you didn't really know who was hiding what, and when the (metaphorical) curtains closed with whom you would be sympathizing.
However, I wasn't that big a fan of the plot. Yes, it was technically brilliant. You've get parallelism and symbolism and all that good stuff that we're sure to discuss on end in English class. You've got twists and turns and mystery and mystique. But despite all this technical prowess, I didn't feel anything as I turned the last page other than a vague churning of my stomach. The story was dark and depressing and violent, and all that darkness did not engage me. That makes it seem like I disliked Streetcar because it was a tragedy, but that is not true. I quite enjoyed Hamlet and Antigone, two other tragic plays, and maybe it is because I feel as if those two succeeded more in evoking pathos. Hamlet's mask of insanity drew me in, sympathizing with him even when he made some pretty godawful decisions. Perhaps the things I like and hate most about Streetcar are two sides of the same coin: I loved the depth and multifacetedness of the characters, but this ability to both relate and be isolated from each of them led me to not quite care about their fates.
So, Streetcar. I can definitely see your literary merit, but you're not the thing for me. Maybe I'd enjoy you more as a stage production as opposed to a transcription; you seem to be the type that would fare better on the stage. In any case, I'm eager to get out of the 'much, much more' section of this blog and back to my favourite lands of 'fantasy, sci-fi, dystopia, adventure.'
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