Edward Albee has had one of the
weirdest lives of any famous American writer now living, as we
learn in Mel Gussow's new biography of the 71-year-old
three-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright. Adopted as an
infant by a wealthy couple, Albee grew up in WASP splendor. He
was driven to Broadway shows as a child in one of the family's
two Rolls-Royces, and every winter the clan decamped from the
New York suburb of Larchmont to Palm Beach, traveling to
Florida in his grandmother's two private railroad cars hooked
to the back of a passenger train.
Lavished with
money but emotionally frozen out by his pallid father and
"dragon lady" mother, Albee fled the family at 20,
spent a decade fumbling around Greenwich Village, and emerged
at 30 a full-fledged playwright with 1959's The Zoo Story,
an existential encounter between two strangers on a park
bench.
Over the next
six years, he had four more enormous successes, none greater
than the 1962 Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, the play
for which he will always be best known. This remarkable
explosion of literary talent -- all the more amazing for being
dyspeptic, intellectually challenging, anything but warm and
fuzzy -- was followed by nearly 20 years of serious drinking
and a string of increasingly mediocre plays. And then, just
when it was time for him to die of an overdose or something,
Albee zoomed back to prominence in 1994 with Three Tall
Women. That play was an astonishingly gracious and
poignant character study of the imperious, bigoted mother who
insulted his friends, snubbed his lovers, and ultimately
disinherited him because he is gay.
Gussow, a
longtime New York Times critic, writes on Albee from
the inside track -- he first profiled the playwright in 1963,
and they were neighbors in the Village for years -- which has
its pluses and minuses. While hardly a hagiography, it rarely
departs from Albee's view of himself, glossing over the years
of decline and drawing a veil of extreme discretion over his
love life. Readers learn nearly nothing about Albee's
relationship with Terrence McNally, which lasted five years
(during the writing and success of Who's Afraid of Virginia
Woolf?), and scarcely more about his nearly-30-year marriage
to Jonathan Thomas.
On the other
hand, Gussow does provide an unusually frank chapter on
Albee's notorious career as a mean drunk. And his section on Who's
Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a trove of delicious detail
that fans of the play will gobble up. Albee's classic portrait
of a marriage driven by passionate love-hate is thought by
some to pay homage to August Strindberg, by others to be a
disguised drama about bitchy queens (a theory Albee has
invariably denounced). But who knew that its true influences
include New Yorker cartoonist James Thurber and the TV
puppet show Kukla, Fran, & Ollie?
The Advocate,
September 14, 1999
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