I never felt comfortable with the adoptive parents. I don’t think they knew how to be parents. I probably didn’t know how to be a son, either.
A friend in the City treated me to a ticket to go see Edward Albee‘s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff? which is currently on Broadway at the Shubert Theater. I was familiar with the movie of course, and the theme of infertility intrigued me on this second view because of my heightened sensitivity to this kind of subject matter. A minimum of research on Albee revealed him to be an adoptee, and an angry one at that:
And the stuff about the “blond-eyed, blue-haired son” is the first hint of Albee’s ongoing obsession with writing about his own adoption by wealthy, conservative New Englanders whom he grew to despise. Many of his plays after Woolf, which was his first full-length drama, have dealt with the theme of “invisible” children.
I never felt comfortable with the adoptive parents. I don’t think they knew…
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