Why I Love The Glass Menagerie [and you should too]

[WARNING: this contains MAJOR spoilers]

Hello, my dear readers! I was seized by a sudden fit of creative ardour [if you’ll forgive the flowery language], so here I am! As you probably know already, The Glass Menagerie is one of my favourite plays, so I’m here to explain, once and for all, why I love it so much. For further reference, you can read the previous posts I’ve written, based on the characters of The Glass Menagerie. I hope you enjoy reading this article!

As I’ve stated earlier as well, The Glass Menagerie is a “memory play”, a play in which the lead character narrates the events of the play, relying wholly on their memories [or, as I like to put it, the character looks back at their past through an invisible screen]. The Glass Menagerie, which premiered in 1944, was the play that lead to Tennessee Williams’ rise to fame. It hasn’t been very long since I first read The Glass Menagerie—I read it in December 2018—and I instantly fell in love with it. I, as an ardent admirer of Williams’ work, can see why this play was his break-through—there’s something incredibly magnetic about the Glass Menagerie. Aptly named, the play is as fragile as glass itself, delicately, lovingly, carefully pieced together, while still containing traces of brutal realism, leading to the climax of the play. Characteristic of Williams’ plays, it contains characters who are unable to accept the harsh reality they have found themselves in; they cannot move on with their lives and have come to a standstill. You see the warning signs long before the climax hits the audience: the Wingfields’ little world shatters completely, just like Laura Wingfield’s precious, delicate little glass unicorn.

In his famous opening narration, Tom Wingfield declares that he is about to show the audience “truth in the pleasant guise of illusion”, indicating that his view-point cannot entirely be relied on [he is one of the most famous unreliable narrators of modern literature]. The Wingfields have their own little “retreats”, especially Laura, an extremely non-social and emotionally fragile girl who spends all her time polishing her quaint collection of glass animals and playing her absent father’s old gramophone records. Apart from this menagerie of glass animals, she is also associated with blue roses; she is a creature of rare, other-worldly beauty, just like those unique and eye-catching flowers. However, as seen in the play, her beauty, while uncommon, is not permanent; it is fleeting.

There is barely anything “real” in the Wingfields’ lives; the “gentleman caller”,  Jim O’ Connor, who only makes one [but very crucial] appearance in the play, is the only one who has realistic views of life. It’s his coming that tears the Wingfields apart; the signs were there since the beginning, as the little family was very dysfunctional [due to the mother’s over-ambitious hopes, the son’s surliness, and the daughter’s fragility], but the family openly falls apart at this juncture. The most common interpretation of the title is, of course, a reference to Laura’s glass animals, but the interpretation I most favour is: it’s obviously not just Laura who has a fragile world—it’s Tom and Amanda, too. Hence, the title refers to the three of them, it doesn’t just refer to the pretty little menagerie; these three are very flawed [and rather relatable] people—the people who inhabit Williams’ world. Tom is forced to work at a shoe warehouse to support his family, but he is extremely dissatisfied with his lot in life, and is an aspiring poet. To deal with his depression, he drinks heavily and goes to the movies every night [or so he says]. Eventually, he is fired for writing a poem on the lid of a shoebox, and leaves his mother and sister to fend for themselves [he loves them, but has cracked under all the pressure. I’m not exactly condoning his actions, but that’s just the thing—I have mixed feelings about Tom]. Amanda, a faded Southern belle and a doting mother, is trying her best to raise her children under harsh financial conditions; her husband deserted her sixteen years ago. [I’ll come to the social background of the play soon]. She loves her children deeply, and is more pragmatic than them, but she demands too much, and she’s delusional and extremely emotionally unstable.

She attempts to evade reality by slipping into her past as a much-desired beauty; as expected, the play ends sadly for both her and her daughter. It’s largely due to her incessant nagging that Tom eventually throws in the towel and leaves her and Laura to look after themselves. In fact, Amanda is a rather tragic figure—in spite of her many faults, one can’t help but sympathise with her, especially at this stage. She tries to be strong and cheerful for her children, but does she cry her heart out at night? I bet she does. She shouldn’t have rushed into such a bad marriage. Due to her mental state, she has often been compared to Blanche Dubois from “A Streetcar Named Desire”, another of Williams’ plays; however, it must be noted that while Blanche is actually psychotic, Amanda is merely in denial of her situation.

Now, let me elaborate on the social background—in his opening narration, Tom gives the audience an insight into the harsh social conditions of that time; he refers to the Spanish Civil War and the Great Depression [which began in 1929]. Just try to imagine it: the Great Depression, which came on the heels of the Wall Street Crash, was the world’s most severe economic crisis; the USA was very badly hit and suffered greatly as a result. Those of you who are aware of the complete extent to which the Great Depression damaged USA’s economy will need no further explanation; Amanda was trying to raise two grown children at a time when thousands of workers were laid off without any unemployment benefit; several families were struggling to make ends meet, the Wingfields being no exception.

The Glass Menagerie is perhaps Williams’ most autobiographical play, making it that much more impactful and graphic. Williams [whose real name was Thomas] closely based Tom on himself; Amanda is based on his mother. His mentally fragile older sister, Rose, is the inspiration for Laura; however, it has been suggested by some critics [and I must say I agree] that Laura also resembles Williams himself, representing his deeply introverted nature and obsession with just one aspect of life [glass animals for Laura and writing for Williams—though he frequently suffered from “writer’s block”].

These personal emotions make the play that much more special, and whenever I write about The Glass Menagerie, I feel like I’m at my creative peak. It’s a play only a few people these days would appreciate—honestly, had I been a little younger, it wouldn’t have been to my taste either. Williams was a genius, no doubt, but a saddened, bruised, scarred genius—and it shows in his writing. He had the saddest strains of music in his soul.  I’m a major fan of tragedies [which, I’m certain, says a lot about me], but I do enjoy happy stuff too, so while this little masterpiece is my favourite piece of modern literature, Williams isn’t my favourite playwright. Give me someone a little more diverse—like Shakespeare or Brian Friel.

This article has been written straight out of my heart, and it was a spur-of-the moment thing, so… I hope you liked it! I’ve done my best to keep it straightforward, and I hope I’ve done this beauty justice! Thank you for reading!

I’d just like to say:

This play’s imperfection is beautiful.

See ya!