Read this for class, not for me. I️ felt like there was no distinct plot. Instead, it was mainly character driven, but in a rather slow descent into craziness. There was just too much back and forth, which made it extremely difficult for me to follow. In fact, I️ couldn’t even finish reading this on my own and had to rely on spark notes to get an understanding. It was really that bad! The lack of a clear storyline and the meandering nature of the characters’ actions made it a tiresome and unengaging read. I️ was hoping for something more exciting and plot-driven, but unfortunately, this just didn’t deliver. I️ would not recommend this to anyone looking for a good book with a captivating plot.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night by Eugene O’Neill holds the 948th position on The Greatest Books of All Time site.

This is truly an outstanding play, and perhaps that should have sufficed as the “review.”

But there is more to explore. It's a work that has already achieved acclaim, and yet, it still invites further discussion. I wonder who, if anyone, reads beyond the first two sentences. My original intention was to write with my family in mind. My daughter might be interested, but not my wife, as she never listens to me when I talk. Why would she bother accessing Goodreads or my blog at www.realini.blogspot.ro to read about ideas she disapproves of? Maybe my grandchildren, future family historians or doctors, might look for signs even when they have the entire DNA figured out and are trying to eliminate the inconvenient genes.

Long Day’s Journey into Night is undeniably negative and gloomy, so why is it so popular? The answer lies in its truth. It is a great work. Readers are drawn to it despite its lack of a happy ending. I won't reveal what happens, as it becomes clear from the start.

At least one movie, directed by Sydney Lumet, was based on the book. I read about the making of that film in his excellent book, Making Movies. I saw the movie and loved it. This morning, I listened to a Romanian production of the play for National Radio. The father, James, is played by the greatest actor I know, George Constantin, in the company of Florian Pittis and Alexandru Repan.

All the characters in the play are flawed, which adds to the mystery of its success. James is a modern-day Harpagon, reluctant to spend on a decent medical treatment for his sick youngest son. I was shocked to learn that the play is autobiographical. The eldest son, Jamie, is an alcoholic and a cynical, sometimes mean man. Mary Tyrone, magnificently portrayed by Katharine Hepburn in the movie, is a drug addict.

There is not a single soul in the play without serious issues. But despite their flaws, we can't help but empathize with them. The old man may seem obnoxious and unfeeling at first, but once we learn about his childhood, we understand and feel for him more.

In the context of positive psychology, the Tyronnes have a wrong, negative mindset, and things do fall apart. However, it's understandable that they can't be cheerful when they're sick. If The How of Happiness had been published at the time of the play, perhaps the Tyronnes could have benefited from some of its advice and happiness activities, such as gratitude, optimism, and coping with trauma.

It's easy for me to say, as I haven't touched alcohol in a few years and never used any drugs. I don't truly know what it's like to fight these plagues that afflict some families.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night is a splendid and wonderful play, brought to life by great actors on screen and an astonishing George Constantin on the radio. Some of my own stories can be found at www.realini.blogspot.ro.

It was an enormous blunder that I was born a man. In fact, I firmly believe that I would have achieved far greater success had I been a sea gull or a fish. As the situation stands now, I am perpetually a stranger, never experiencing a sense of home. I don't truly desire and am not truly desired. I can never truly belong. There is always a tinge of affection for death within me.

This feeling of estrangement and disconnection has haunted me throughout my life. I look at the sea gulls soaring freely in the sky or the fish swimming effortlessly in the water, and I envy their simplicity and lack of complex emotions. They don't have to worry about the same things that I do, like finding a place in this world or being accepted by others.

Maybe it's because I am a man with all the expectations and responsibilities that come with it. Maybe it's because I am too sensitive and introspective for my own good. Whatever the reason, I can't seem to escape this feeling of being an outsider, always on the periphery, looking in but never quite able to fully participate.

You know when you're deeply engrossed in reading something and suddenly think, "Damn, this is truly remarkable."

And then you decide to look up the playwright only to realize that he has won an astonishing 4 Pulitzers and the Nobel Prize.

Well, that's exactly the case with O'Neill. He clearly knows his craft inside out.

This particular play is like the emotional equivalent of carefully picking at a scab.

All four characters are etched vividly on my brain, their personalities and struggles coming to life with such intensity.

The detailed and beautifully crafted stage directions add an extra layer of depth to the reading experience, making it truly exceptional.

If you have a penchant for family dramas that are steeped in a sense of hopelessness, then this play is highly recommended.

It will take you on an emotional rollercoaster and leave you with a profound understanding of the human condition within the context of a dysfunctional family.

Prepare to be moved and enlightened by O'Neill's masterful storytelling.

The original text seems to be in Persian and it roughly translates to: "Drunk on what? On wine, on poetry, or on abstinence, it depends on your desire. Just be drunk."

Here is the rewritten and expanded English version:

What are you drunk on? Are you drunk on the allure of wine, with its rich flavors and intoxicating effects? Or perhaps you are drunk on the beauty and power of poetry, which has the ability to transport you to different worlds and evoke deep emotions within you. Maybe, instead, you are drunk on the act of abstinence, finding a strange kind of liberation in denying yourself certain pleasures. It all depends on your own unique desires and inclinations. But whatever it is that makes you drunk, embrace it fully. Let it consume you and take you on a journey of self-discovery and exploration. Just be drunk, and see where that state leads you.

Eugene O`Neill writes "The Long Day's Journey into Night primarily to free himself from the torturous memories, the past reproaches, and the morbid struggle with illness and alcohol in his youth.

This play is his confession of forgiveness for his loved ones, his attempt to forgive himself and those with whom he has lived a life of vice, misunderstanding, lies, and indifference within the family.

The drama follows, over the course of a single day, from dawn until midnight, the destruction of the Tyrone family, a family founded on wrong premises, living through conflicts, sustained inertially by lies and pretenses: the drug-addicted mother, the alcoholic father and sons.

Each character blames the others and justifies their own decadence and vice with the excuse of failure, isolation, illness, or mistrust of those around them. Whether parents or children, they do not feel safe when they are themselves and only feel protected when their bodies are soaked with alcohol or morphine. Each has and does not have the right, which is why you can empathize with them even without approving of them.

It is a shattering drama about desperate people, caught in the clutches of a fate that gives with one hand and takes with the other.

This play not only reveals the inner turmoil and conflicts of the characters but also reflects the broader social and psychological issues of the time. It makes the reader or viewer think deeply about the nature of family, love, forgiveness, and the human condition.

O`Neill's masterful portrayal of the characters and their relationships, as well as his use of powerful language and symbolism, make this play a classic of American literature.

It continues to resonate with audiences today, reminding us of the importance of facing our past, forgiving ourselves and others, and finding meaning and purpose in our lives.

Overall, "The Long Day's Journey into Night" is a profound and moving work that offers valuable insights into the human experience.

Painful.

There is truly something extremely raw about this play that one simply has to appreciate. (Though, I suppose one would hope so with a work as autobiographical as this.) The pain and trauma that O’Neill endured in his life seep onto the page.

To a certain extent, I believe that anyone can identify aspects of these characters within their own lives. The essence of humanity is captured in all of their flaws, to the extent that it often feels almost too real.

Overall, it is an excellent read and provides an interesting perspective into the nature of addiction and blame. It makes the reader reflect on their own experiences and the choices they have made.

The play forces us to confront the uncomfortable truths about ourselves and the people around us. It is a powerful work that leaves a lasting impression.

Despite the pain and sadness that it evokes, there is also a glimmer of hope and a sense of understanding that emerges. It is a testament to the power of art to touch our hearts and minds and make us think.

From Act 1, Eugene O'Neill powerfully tears away the patchwork veil that has been covering the face of a family. What is revealed is the raw anatomy of the skin, with every pustule, all the carbuncles, discoloration, scars, the embarrassing halitosis, wax, and hairs. These are the very attributes that, when seen up close, make us into the rather ugly human beings that we can sometimes be.

"Long Day's Journey Into Night" offers a naked and unflinching insight into the brutal and unyielding properties that have the power to trap families within dysfunctional, vengeful, and malignant relations.

Guilt, criticism, paranoia, competition, blame, hate, distrust, and addiction - this family seems to embody all of these negative traits, just like so many others. The play lays bare the painful calculus that exists between the characters. Alliances are formed and then change in an instant. Issues smolder beneath the surface, and the rage and reaction to past events are often completely out of proportion to the origin and manner in which they occurred. The family, much like yours or mine, is seemingly stuck in a never-ending ritual of maneuvers around each other's accusations. Truths are distorted, responsibility is shrugged off, and failures are indiscriminately attributed.

O'Neill shows us just one day, confined to a single room, but within that space, he reveals the complex lives that exist within a family. Just like in real life, it is incredibly difficult to uncover the single events that might have started the cascades of destructive family behavior. It's like the age-old paradox of the chicken or the egg.

What originally infected the marriage? Was it James's miserliness or Mama's weakness to morphine? Was it James's drinking or Mama's nervousness? Was there, at first, moderation in James's drinking, or did Mama drive him to alcohol? Why did the second child die? Was it a jealous sibling, a frugal father, or a forgetful mother? Was it betrayal, inaction, or negligence? Who's the sucker? Is it the tight-wad ninny who repeatedly falls for real estate scams, the neurotic mother who hides from the neighbors, or the prodigal son who abandons his career for the sake of drink?

O'Neill uses just 4 characters, a span of 16 hours, and a simple parlor to compress this powerful story. From page 1, there is a palpable rising tension. The characters are trapped, and with years of pent-up emotion and issues that perhaps can never be resolved, they become embroiled in a replay of the most painful and explosive vindication. I think a normal person would have simply walked away in a shout. But no, the strength of the play lies in the fact that O'Neill takes it even further. He explores the very threshold of human nature and tries to discover an end, if such a thing even exists. It takes the reader past the point of retreat and plows into unknown places that we would never dare to go in real life. This is far more than just a family fight. This is the very brink. You simply cannot come back from this place unchanged. There are charges that, once delivered, can never be unsaid.

Distilled to its essence, "Long Day's Journey Into Night" seems to be saying this: I hate you; I tried to kill you; we're all mucked up because of you and you and you; I no longer love you; you can die; you've destroyed my dreams.

After reading this play, I could only find myself siding with one character, Edmund, the youngest son. He is the least hateful, the least repugnant, and perhaps the shortest in this life to really become mean. And yet, ironically, he'll most likely die from consumption. Perhaps this irony was O'Neill's masterful construction. I am left realizing that the most precious things in life are often fleeting. The world is a hard place, and life can be incredibly harsh. And yet, from this 23-year-old, I get the most beautiful image of life:

\\n  You've just told me some high spots in your memories. Want to hear mine? They're all connected with the sea. Here's one. When I was on the Squarehead square rigger, bound for Buenos Aires. Full moon of the Trades. The old hooker driving fourteen knots. I lay on the bowsprit, facing astern, with the water foaming into spume under me, the masts with every sail white in the moonlight, towering above me. I became drunk with the beauty and singing rhythm of it, and for a moment I lost myself--actually lost my life. I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky! I belonged without past or future, within peace and unity and a wild joy, within something greater than my own life, or the life of Man, to Life itself! To God, if you want to put it that way.\\n

James Tyrone - dad
Mary - mom
Jamie - son, 33
Edmund - son, 23
1912

This has been in my reading list for ages,

and now that I finally managed to grab the thing for a reading challenge,

it couldn't fly any faster to my list of absolute must-sees.

With the likes of Jeremy Irons, Lesley Manville, and Hadley Fraser starring,

the adaptation at the Bristol Old Vic would be a dream,

but the circumstances are what they are,

so this will just have to wait.

Reading a play instead of seeing it performed can be complicated and underwhelming.

No such problem here.

Long Day's Journey Into Night comes from an extremely dark place

and lays bare the tragedy of not wanting to live in the world as it is,

but it's also an incredibly moving and beautiful piece of drama.

The power of the dialogue combined with O'Neill's unusually specific stage directions

(including the appearance and facial expressions of the actors)

creates a very tangible atmosphere,

one that is heightened even further from the knowledge

that the family's struggles were once real for O'Neill,

and that due to the autobiographical content he didn't want it to be published

until 25 years after his death.

In 1912, a day in the Tyrone family consists of them escaping their guilt and frustration.

Mary's morphine addiction has created a protective cocoon,

where she can remember her happy pre-marriage years,

when she still felt like she had a real home.

Her absolute denial of the negativity around her,

like Edmund's illness, is slowly destroying her personality and strength,

making her even more discontent and lonely.

Meanwhile, James Tyrone and sons Eugene and Jamie detach themselves from reality with whiskey.

There's palpable tension from the start,

when suspicious glances are thrown in all directions.

If noticed, they contribute to a mutual feeling of distrust.

True meaning of words shows on embittered faces,

and the indirectness and failure to address the problems in a constructive way,

the men resorting instead to childish name-calling and criticizing,

further worsens the atmosphere of the day.

The Tyrones suck you into their vortex.

The fleeting moments of sincerity and affectionate tears sink into the darkness of the house,

a house that becomes more and more surrounded by the fog and the sounds of the foghorn,

closing it into its own world of bitterness.

The ending is dream-like and suffocating,

leaving the audience uncertain about the family's future yet also feeling like it's the death of everything.

The future wasn't all happy (eleven years later, Jamie drank himself to death),

but Mary's fight with her addiction led to victory two years later,

so at least there's some glimmer of hope.

A deeply personal project for O'Neill,

I'm not surprised about his decision about the publication.

I'm also not surprised that Sweden, the land of Ingmar Bergman,

appreciated his works more than any other country,

and was also the first to produce it on stage.

The list of actors involved in productions all over the world since the 1950s is impressive:

Laurence Olivier, Jack Lemmon, Kevin Spacey, Jessica Lange, Bibi Andersson, Peter Stormare

(the latter two directed by no other than Ingmar Bergman in 1988) etc.

Let's just hope the next production will be more accessible to me.

MARY. None of us can help the things life has done to us.

They're done before you realize it,

and once they're done they make you do other things

until at last everything comes between you and what you'd like to be,

and you've lost your true self for ever.

I know this is an autobiographical play. However, to be honest, I really can't tolerate those characters who choose to drink non-stop, take drugs, and so on. Then they make excuses or blame others for their miseries.

The events of the story occur within one day and are filled with continuous arguments, resentment, and fights. It just keeps going on and on and on.

It seems that these characters are trapped in a cycle of self-destruction and are unable to break free. Their actions not only affect themselves but also those around them.

Maybe it's a reflection of the real world, where some people face difficulties and choose to deal with them in the wrong way. But it's also a reminder that we should take responsibility for our own actions and not always look for someone else to blame.

Overall, this play may be a powerful and thought-provoking work, but it also makes me feel a bit frustrated and sad.

Awesome. This single word holds the power to describe something truly remarkable. It can refer to a breathtaking view, an outstanding performance, or an amazing achievement.

Visceral. It implies a deep, instinctive, and emotional response. Something that touches our core and makes us feel a connection on a fundamental level.

Impassioned. When we are impassioned, we are filled with intense enthusiasm and excitement. Our hearts and minds are fully engaged, and we are driven to pursue our goals with great vigor.

Formidable. This word describes something that is impressive, powerful, and perhaps a bit intimidating. It can refer to a person with great skills or a task that seems almost insurmountable.

Unexpected. The element of surprise adds an extra layer of excitement and interest. When something unexpected happens, it can change our perspective and make us see the world in a new light.

Wow! This simple exclamation captures the essence of all these words. It expresses our astonishment, admiration, and delight. When we encounter something that is awesome, visceral, impassioned, formidable, and unexpected, we can't help but exclaim, "Wow!"

Why did this feel like rereading The Glass Menagerie?

This question lingered in my mind as I experienced a certain situation. The Glass Menagerie is a play that is known for its profound exploration of human relationships, dreams, and illusions.

Maybe it was the way the characters interacted, with their unspoken desires and hidden emotions. Or perhaps it was the atmosphere, filled with a sense of longing and nostalgia.

It could also be that the events unfolding before me seemed to mirror the themes and motifs present in the play. The struggle for acceptance, the pursuit of something unattainable, and the fragility of human connections.

Whatever the reason, this feeling of déjà vu was both unsettling and captivating. It made me reflect on the power of art to resonate with our lives and evoke deep emotions.

As I continued to grapple with this sensation, I couldn't help but wonder if there were other aspects of The Glass Menagerie that I was yet to discover in this new experience.