Lining Up for Donuts
Posted by Dave Urlakis on 8/20/2008
Audience members line up outside Steppenwolf for the chance to purchase last-minute tickets to Superior Donuts.
4 Responses to “Lining Up for Donuts”
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August 20th, 2008 at 11:38 pm
it’s like we’re back at August: Osage all over again!
August 21st, 2008 at 7:02 pm
Please please just extend it. It’s so hard to get tickets and I know so many people who still want to see it.
August 21st, 2008 at 7:05 pm
I guess with Kafka on the Shore coming up, you can’t really do that…
August 23rd, 2008 at 10:14 am
Open comment to Mr. Letts — (NOTICE — PLOT SPOILER HEREIN BELOW)
Can it be true? Is my suspicion correct that I’m every fiction writer’s sweetest choice of an audience-rube? I take pride in my love of storytelling from epic poetry to TV sit-coms to a well-told anecdote in a personal conversation with a friend. I present myself to a story completely open for it to wash over me. My only expectation is entertainment or possibly to agreeing to make me think. Furthermore, I’m completely ignorant of the process of creative writing. Last year I heard a friend mention that in a her reading, she recognized a literary writing device that moved the plot along such as introducing a character to add content or to have a phone ring to interrupt, say, momentum, etc. Well. I pondered that concept for about 90 seconds and tucked it away brainward with alarm that such a manipulation of my innocence was standard procedure and even honed and desirable.
That being prefaced, I was all set within this prose to take Mr. Letts to task for a glaring foreshadowing of the sale of the donut shop. I spotted what was coming at the first emphatic dialogue declaring the purchase price offer. Then, within a few pages, the sub-plot of Franco’s gambling debt was revealed. Bingo. The need for the money from the property sale. I was sorely disappointed that I gleaned the thrust of the storyline. And I placed the blame on you, Mr. Letts, despite your writing skills of Pulitzer Prize caliber for this year, anyway. (I’m insufferable.)
Yet, my further pondering in the wee hours of last night revealed my own transparent colorings. From his first moments arriving in the donut shop, Arthur’s resignation to plodding through his duties and Life in the shop resonated within me. I, too, am Arthur’s age, have his perspective, weariness and impatience. Ninety-seven days ago, after 10 years on the job, I snuck into my employer’s office on a Wednesday at 9pm with empty boxes in hand. I cleared out my desk and wrote the words “I Quit” on a paper above my official signature and date. Laying out my office keys was the final gesture. I’d finally hit the wall at this benign job where I could no longer spend 8 more precious hours shuffling my boss’ paperwork.
So, I HAD brought some baggage to the “Superior Donuts” unfolding story. From those first moments, my mind was calculating what price Arthur could sell the shop for, what he could do with the windfall to improve his life, my inner monologue yelled out to Arthur to break free NOW.
So, was there a weak element in structure of “Superior Donuts”? I’m not so sure anymore. Would it improve if the purchase offer was delivered more low-key? If the menacing & coy subplot scene was presented with less targeted focus for the audience? Maybe so. Or maybe my own nerve endings are just too raw & twitching sharing Arthur’s life stage.
So my earlier smug pride in unfettered openness to stories has been debunked. We all bring the issues we’re mentally kneading on any given day to almost everything in our paths. Some stories mirror our moment’s reality; other stories distract us from it.
One last delight, though. My stolid expectations of the play’s ending were that Arthur would use his sale money to publish Franco’s novel. How refreshing was Letts’ choice for Arthur to help. Now THAT rang sweet with me. Savor your Prize, Mr. Letts. I do.