They are crude, undigested, unpurged bits of reality-to draw a metaphor from the late J. Even though life is often like this-the absconding cashier on his way to Nicaragua is killed in a collision at the airport, the prominent statesman dies of a stroke in the midst of the negotiations he has spent years to bring about, the young lovers are drowned in a boating accident the day before their marriage-such events, the warp and woof of everyday life, seem irrelevant, meaningless. “If through no fault of his own the hero is crushed by a bulldozer in Act II, we are not impressed.
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