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The kindness of strangers and the pain of loving

Everything in his life is in his plays, and everything in his plays is in his life. – theat...
Newstalk
Newstalk

23.58 20 Feb 2015


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The kindness of strangers and...

The kindness of strangers and the pain of loving

Newstalk
Newstalk

23.58 20 Feb 2015


Share this article


Everything in his life is in his plays, and everything in his plays is in his life. – theatre director Elia Kazan talking about Tennessee Williams

In the 1940s and ‘50s Tennessee Williams exploded into the world of theatre. His plays, with their deeply real and personal stories, captivated live audiences on Broadway and beyond before transitioning beautifully to the silver screen. Marlon Brando’s rendition of Stanley in the 1951 ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ remains an iconic and oft parodied moment in cinematic history. Though the quality of his writing waned toward the end of his life Williams’ plays secured his status as one of the great American playwrights; a fact acknowledged with his induction into the American Theatre Hall of Fame in 1979.

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For all of his success though Williams was a man who suffered through life. Depression and tragedy plagued his life and he turned to drugs, alcohol, and the pen to find solace. These sufferings proved to be Williams’ fountainhead of inspiration and all of his great works carry echoes from his past and reflect his own lived pains. Writing alone couldn’t unburden Williams and he remained dependent on drink and drugs for most of his life; they proved a contributing factor to his death in 1983.

Tennessee Williams at service for Dylan Thomas in 1953, photographer Walter Albertin

Born in Mississippi in 1911 Williams was the son of an alcoholic shoe salesman and a Southern Belle. Though his father was promoted to a good office job when Williams was young, his home life was a turbulent dichotomy between his rough and violent father and his neurotic and snobbish mother. Following an almost fatal case of diphtheria Williams was left a fragile child. This, coupled with his father’s distain for weakness, made Williams shy and introverted, character traits that would stay with him throughout his life.

Writing seemed to provide Williams with an escape from a young age. At sixteen he won third prize in a writing competition and the following year had a short story published in the magazine ‘Weird Tales’. He continued to write during his first try at college and after he began to work alongside his father; his mother often found him fully clothed in the morning, totally spent from a night of writing. At 24 Williams suffered a nervous breakdown and quit his job. With his mother’s predilection for hysterical episodes and his sister Rose’s schizophrenia this breakdown must have been unnerving for Williams.

The following year Williams returned to college, completing his Bachelors of Arts in 1938. This second excursion into the scholarly life saw the blossoming of Williams’ love with theatre and the stage. For the next several years Williams lived the life of the struggling artist. He adopted the pen name Tennessee and worked numerous menial jobs, writing in what little spare time he could find. In 1944 this all paid off with the production of ‘The Glass Menagerie’.

This play proved to be a great success and won the New York Drama Critics' Circle Award for best play of the season. Williams followed up this success in 1947 with ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’. Once again drawing heavily on his own life ‘Streetcar’ cemented Williams’ reputation as a great playwright. Though he would struggle to surpass the greatness of these works ‘Streetcar’ and ‘The Glass Menagerie’ began a period of success and happiness in Williams’ life.

Tennessee Williams with Andy Warhol in 1967, photographer James Kavallines

In 1948 Williams met and began a relationship with Frank Merlo. Though he had been accepting of is sexuality since the late 1930s and had had relationships before this Merlo proved to be a turning point in Williams’ life. The two remained as a couple for the next fourteen years, which also happened to be the most prolific and successful period of Williams’ career. Drug abuse and infidelities wore both men thin, however, and the relationship eventually came to an end.

The ending of this relationship was a massive blow for Williams. Merlo had taken on the role of personal secretary and provided a domestic grounding and social liveliness that contrasted Williams’ shyness and hysteria. Shortly after the two broke up Merlo discovered that he had inoperable lung cancer. Williams took on the role of career and stayed with Merlo until his death in ’63. Losing not only his lover but his friend dealt a massive blow to Williams and he was cast into a vicious depression.

The ‘60s also saw a waning in Williams’ popularity and success. As he became increasingly dependent on drugs and alcohol the quality of his work worsened and his experiments with new styles and concepts failed to find traction with audiences. Despite this negative reaction and his deteriorating mental health Williams continued to be a prolific writer until his death.

On this episode of ‘Talking Books’ Susan talks with author, critic, and theatre reviewer John Lahr about the life of Tennessee Williams and his biography ‘Tennessee Williams; Mad Pilgrimage of the Flesh’. Join us as we journey through the highs and lows, the loves and losses, and the literary genius of Williams’ life. What was life like for this troubled genius? Why was he so reliant on other people? And does he deserve his reputation as a hysteric?

Cover of 'Dear Thief' by Atavist Books

We continue the exploration of relationships and how we deal with one another in the second part of the show as Susan talks with Samantha Harvey about her third novel, ‘Deaf Thief’. A psychological exploration of a woman’s attempt to address her past ‘Dear Thief’ takes the form of a long letter written by the narrator to her erstwhile friend, referred to only as Butterfly. Through the letter we are shown a strong yet fragile Butterfly who whisks away the narrator’s husband, sacrificing friendship to steal love.

The Butterfly that emerges from the page seems an almost idealised vision of the independent woman, however, and it is sometimes hard to tell if this letter is an ode, a cathartic release, or longed for closure. Harvey creates a wonderful and unique voice in ‘Dear Thief’ that paints a vivid picture of the narrator and her version of events. Thanks to Harvey’s style we are never sure exactly how accurate the narrator’s memories are and we are left wondering how this love triangle looked from the other two corners.

Join Susan and Harvey as they delve into the complexities of friendship and love in ‘Dear Thief’. Can we trust the narrator’s version of events? Why is she writing this letter to a woman whose fate and whereabouts are unknown? And how real is this Butterfly?


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