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Great Writing




 A perfect essay is a rare event. Here's an example.


The playwright Sarah Ruhl is alarmed; a scream is coming from her daughter's room.

It turns out the daughter has just discovered dramatic irony. "I know something that the Little Princess does not--and this feeling is the worst."

Having claimed to be terrified, Daughter happily keeps turning the pages.

Sarah then considers her own distaste for dramatic irony--and links this feeling with death, which is "the ultimate form of this particular species of irony." God holds all the cards; God knows when you will die, and God isn't saying.

More spirited than Sarah, Daughter has a solution. It's possible to cheat death. Just look at dolls; they get "old," but they do not age. Take that, God.

This is a terrific essay for a few reasons. First, it's consistently surprising. Second, it shows two versions of insanity: one belongs to the bullheaded daughter, but another belongs to Sarah Ruhl. (When Sarah tries to make her daughter comfortable with the idea of death, she whispers, "Maybe Grandpa is in Heaven...maybe he exists again now as a baby...." As if these foolish tactics might work.) Third, the essay resists easy answers. It ends with Mom and Daughter in a state of tension--the "awed/horrified" state--that any parent can recognize.

The essay is sort of a poem and sort of a play--and I have a feeling Sarah Ruhl does not feel a strong urge to find an appropriate category. All of her work is like this. I'm a fan.
















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