It is difficult enough for Willy to deal with Howard, his buyers or lack of buyers , and the everyday reminders that he is not a great salesman like Dave Singleman; however, it is even more insufferable for Willy to accept the idea that he is a failure in his son's eyes. Prior to the Boston trip, Biff, more than anyone, sincerely believes in Willy's success, potential, and inevitable greatness.
Willy is able to achieve the success and notoriety he desires only through Biff, but this changes when Biff learns of the affair. After the Boston trip, Willy tries to regain the success he once had by focusing on memories or events prior to the discovery of the affair.
It is not surprising that Willy contradicts himself when speaking in the present about Biff or to him, for although Willy chooses to remember Biff as he used to be, he cannot eradicate the words Biff spoke to him in Boston: "You fake! You phony little fake!
Willy perceives himself as a failure: He is not Dave Singleman. He is just a mediocre salesman who has only made monumental sales in his imagination.
Now that he is growing old and less productive, the company he helped to build fires him. He regrets being unfaithful to his wife, even though he will never admit the affair to her. He is no longer a respectable man in Biff's eyes. Biff recognizes Willy's tendency to exaggerate or reconstruct reality and is no longer a willing participant in Willy's fantasy. By the end of the play, Willy is overwhelmed; he can no longer deny his failures when they become too many to deal with.
Instead, he seeks a solution in suicide. Willy reasons he can finally be a success because his life insurance policy will in some way compensate Linda for his affair. Additionally, Biff will consider him a martyr and respect him after witnessing the large funeral and many mourners Willy is sure will attend. Willy seems to be painfully moved by this negative change since he often mentions it. Throughout the whole book we are told that Willy has a great deal of craft skills and in his opinion a real man is supposed to have a certain talent to handle tools.
Willy also shows us permanently his admiration for nature. While traveling in his car he is often contemplating nature and perhaps dreaming about a life in the countryside. At the beginning of the first Act we might think that Willy Loman is an ordinary elderly businessman, who seems to be exhausted by a trip for his firm.
But later on we realize that he has hallucinations and sometimes problems to distinguish between past and present. It gets quite clear that the old salesman has become senile. In his youth Willy had the choice between two ways of life. On the one hand he had the opportunity to lead a life in the countryside and work outdoors and on the other hand the possibility to live in the city and earn his money in the business.
The decisive point for his life was the meeting with an eighty-four year old businessman named Dave Singleman. And when I saw that, I realized that selling was the greatest career a man could want. When Willy had just started to work for his firm in Boston, Ben offers him to join him on a trip to Alaska, where a proposition was waiting for them. Willy refuses that proposal since his wife Linda assures him that they possess everything to lead a life in harmony with their two children.
S B Sarah Breitkopf Author. Add to cart. From his wife Linda we hear that her husband has tried several times to commit suicide. Sign in to write a comment. Read the ebook. Who Killed Willy Loman? Remember pity. Truthfully, Biff is not really bright enough to make a businessman.
Wants everything too fast. But is that retrievable? He must be cheerful on bad days. Cause one thing, he has got to be liked. He don't tell you the law or give you medicine. All you know is that on good days or bad, you gotta come in cheerful.
He is listening not just to the voices of his characters but to the charmed country silence around him, which seems to define his creative state of grace:. Roxbury—At night the insects softly thumping the screens like a blind man pushing with his fingers in the dark. The crickets, frogs, whippoorwills altogether, a scream from the breast of the earth when everyone is gone. The evening sky, faded gray, like the sea pressing up against the windows, or an opaque gray screen.
Through which someone is looking in at me? On a bright-blue December afternoon last year, Miller, now eighty-three, returned to the cabin with his third wife, the photographer Inge Morath. They were sort of engineer people. In a tan windbreaker and a baseball cap, he looked as rough-hewn and handy as any local farmer. After a cursory inspection of his old home, Miller, who is six feet three and stoops a little now, set off toward the cabin, up a steep hump that sits a few hundred paces from the back of the house.
The cabin, a white clapboard construction in somewhat urgent need of a new coat of paint, stood just over the top of the rise, facing west, toward a thicket of birch trees and a field.
She snapped off a few photos, then waved her husband into the foreground for a picture before we all crowded into what proved to be a single high-ceilinged room. He stepped outside to see if the cabin had been wired for electricity. It had. He inspected the three cinder blocks on which it was securely perched against the side of the hill. Leaving, he turned to take a last look.
I finally built it on the ground and then swung them up. You get to a certain point, you gotta squeeze your way out of it. Where does the alchemy of a great play begin? You phoney little fake! The piece, which was published in these pages in , is about a Miltex salesman called Schoenzeit, who had once asked Miller for subway fare when Miller was helping him carry samples to an uptown buyer.
Every masterpiece is a story of accident and accomplishment. There was something in him which was terribly moving, because his suffering was right on his skin, you see. He was the ultimate climber up the ladder who was constantly being stepped on by those climbing past him.
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