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A Raisin in the Sun

A Raisin in the Sun

4.2 104
by Lorraine Hansberry

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When it was first produced in 1959, A Raisin in the Sun was awarded the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for that season and hailed as a watershed in American drama. A pioneering work by an African-American playwright, the play was a radically new representation of black life. "A play that changed American theater forever."—The New York Times.


When it was first produced in 1959, A Raisin in the Sun was awarded the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for that season and hailed as a watershed in American drama. A pioneering work by an African-American playwright, the play was a radically new representation of black life. "A play that changed American theater forever."—The New York Times.

Editorial Reviews

Sacred Fire
A Raisin in the Sun, written by the then twenty-nine-year-old Hansberry, was the "movin’ on up" morality play of the 1960s. Martin had mesmerized millions, and integration was seen as the stairway to heaven. Raisin had something for everyone, and for this reason it was the recipient of the prestigious New York Drama Critics Circle Award.

The place: a tenement flat in Southside, Chicago. The time: post—World War II. Lena Younger, the strong-willed matriarch, is the glue that holds together the Younger family. Walter Lee is her married, thirty-something son who, along with his wife and sister, lives in his mother’s apartment. He is short on meeting responsibilities but long on dreams. Beneatha (that’s right, Beneatha) is Waiter’s sister—an upwardly mobile college student who plans to attend medical school.

Mama Lena is due a check from her late husband’s insurance, and Waiter Lee is ready to invest it in a liquor store. The money represents his opportunity to assert his manhood. It will bring the jump start he needs to set his life right. Beneatha tells him that it’s "mama’s money to do with as she pleases," and that she doesn’t really expect any for her schooling. However, Mama wants to use her new money for a new beginning—in a new house, in a new neighborhood (white).

Walter cries, and Mama relents. She refrains from paying cash for the house and places a deposit instead, giving Waiter the difference to share equally between his investment and Beneatha’s college fund. Walter squanders the entire amount. Meanwhile, Mama receives a call from the neighborhood "welcome committee" hoping to dissuade the family from moving in.

While roundly criticized for being politically accommodating to whites, Raisin accurately reflected the aspirations of a newly nascent black middle class.

Library Journal
The film version of Hansberry's landmark play A Raisin in the Sun (1961) was the first depiction of African American life seen by mainstream America. Hansberry included in her screen version several scenes of the Younger family interacting with the white world to show their deprivation and the subtle forms of racism they encountered in their everyday lives. In typical Hollywood fashion most of those scenes were cut, which softened the drama's angry voice. This new edition of the uncut original was edited by Hansberry's ex-husband and literary executor Nemiroff, who made a lifelong commitment to seeing that Hansberry's talent was fully recognized. African American collections as well as film collections will find this script of interest.-- Marcia L. Perry, Berkshire Athenaeum, Pittsfield, Mass.
From the Publisher
“A beautiful, lovable play. It is affectionately human, funny and touching. . . . A work of theatrical magic in which the usual barrier between audience and stage disappears.”
John Chapman, New York News

“An honest, intelligible, and moving experience.”
Walter Kerr, New York Herald Tribune

“Miss Hansberry has etched her characters with understanding, and told her story with dramatic impact. She has a keen sense of humor, an ear for accurate speech and compassion for people.”
Robert Coleman, New York Mirror

“A Raisin in the Sun has vigor as well as veracity.”
Brooks Atkinson, New York Times

“It is honest drama, catching up real people. . . . It will make you proud of human beings.”
Frank Aston, New York World-Telegram & Sun

“A wonderfully emotional evening.”
John McClain, New York Journal American

School Library Journal
Gr 9 Up—This live, full-cast performance of Lorraine Hansberry's classic 1958 play tells the story of a working class African-American family living in a small apartment on Chicago's Southside. The matriarchal Lena "Mama" Younger awaits the arrival of her deceased husband's $10,000 life insurance check. Her son, Walter, maneuvers to invest in a liquor store, while her daughter, Bennie, hopes to attend medical school with the money. Meanwhile, Walter's wife struggles to decide whether to terminate an unplanned pregnancy when they're already struggling to support their firstborn. When Mama makes a down payment on a house in a white section of the city, the neighborhood association offers to buy them out. The family balks until Walter loses the balance of the money in a fraudulent business deal. Then they must weigh dreams against reality. This is a stirring performance of Hansberry's take on the American Dream deferred, which was inspired by Langston Hughes's 1951 poem "Harlem." Every actor digs into his or her character with verve, and audience reactions highlight the subtle humor. Characters are frequently addressed by name, and each actor's voice is distinct enough for listeners to easily identify the speaker. As Bennie, Rutina Wesley of HBO's True Blood adds some star power, but Judyann Elder as Mama is the heart and soul of this production. Her character is alternately maternal and tart, feisty and vulnerable. A commanding presentation of a seminal drama that feels timelier than ever.—Amy Pickett, Ridley High School, Folsom, PA

Product Details

Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date:
Product dimensions:
7.00(w) x 5.00(h) x 1.00(d)

Read an Excerpt


by Robert Nerniroff

This is the most complete edition of A Raisin in the Sun ever published. Like the American Playhouse production for television, it restores to the play two scenes unknown to the general public, and a number of other key scenes and passages staged for the first time in twenty-fifth anniversary revivals and, most notably, the Roundabout Theatre's Kennedy Center production on which the television picture is based.

"The events of every passing year add resonance to A Raisin in the Sun. It is as if history is conspiring to make the play a classic"; ". . . one of a handful of great American dramas ... A Raisin in the Sun belongs in the inner circle, along with Death of a Salesman, Long Day's Journey into Night, and The Glass Menagerie." So wrote The New York Times and the Washington Post respectively of Harold Scott's revelatory stagings for the Roundabout in which most of these elements, cut on Broadway, were restored. The unprecedented resurgence of the work (a dozen regional revivals at this writing, new publications and productions abroad, and now the television production that will be seen by millions) prompts the new edition.

Produced in 1959, the play presaged the revolution in black and women's consciousness-and the revolutionary ferment in Africa-that exploded in the years following the playwright's death in 1965 to ineradicably alter the social fabric and consciousness of the nation and the world. As so many have commented lately, it did so in a manner and to an extent that few could have foreseen, for not only the restored material, but much else that passed unnoticed in the play at the time, speaks to issues that arenow inescapable: value systems of the black family; concepts of African American beauty and identity; class and generational conflicts; the relationships of husbands and wives, black men and women; the outspoken (if then yet unnamed) feminism of the daughter; and, in the penultimate scene between Beneatha and Asagai, the larger statement of the play and the ongoing struggle it portends.

Not one of the cuts, it should be emphasized, was made to dilute or censor the play or to "soften" its statement, for everyone in that herculean, now-legendary band that brought Raisin to Broadway-and most specifically the producer, Philip Rose, and director, Lloyd Richards-believed in the importance of that statement with a degree of commitment that would have countenanced nothing of the kind. How and why, then, did the cuts come about?

The scene in which Beneatha unveils her natural haircut is an interesting example. In 1959, when the play was presented, the rich variety of Afro styles introduced in the mid-sixties had not yet arrived: the very few black women who wore their hair unstraightened cut it very short. When the hair of Diana Sands (who created the role) was cropped in this fashion, however, a few days before the opening, it was not contoured to suit her: her particular facial structure required a fuller Afro, of the sort she in fact adopted in later years. Result? Rather than vitiate the playwright's point-the beauty of black hair-the scene was dropped.

Some cuts were similarly the result of happenstance or unpredictables of the kind that occur in any production: difficulties with a scene, the "processes" of actors, the dynamics of staging, etc. But most were related to the length of the play: running time. Time in the context of bringing to Broadway the first play by a black (young and unknown) woman, to be directed, moreover, by another unknown black "first," in a theater where black audiences virtually did not exist-and where, in the entire history of the American stage, there had never been a serious commercially successful black drama!

So unlikely did the prospects seem in that day, in fact, to all but Phil Rose and the company, that much as some expressed admiration for the play, Rose's eighteen-month effort to find a co-producer to help complete the financing was turned down by virtually every established name in the business. He was joined at the last by another newcomer, David Cogan, but even with the money in hand, not a single theater owner on the Great White Way would rent to the new production! So that when the play left New York for tryouts-with a six-hundred-dollar advance in New Haven and no theater to come back to-had the script and performance been any less ready, and the response of critics and audiences any less unreserved than they proved to be, A Raisin in the Sun would never have reached Broadway.

Under these circumstances the pressures were enormous (if unspoken and rarely even acknowledged in the excitement of the work) not to press fate unduly with unnecessary risks. And the most obvious of these was the running time. It is one thing to present a four-and-a-half-hour drama by Eugene O'Neill on Broadway-but a first play (even ignoring the special features of this one) in the neighborhood of even three??? By common consensus, the need to keep the show as tight and streamlined as possible was manifest. Some things-philosophical flights, nuances the general audience might not understand, shadings, embellishments, would have to be sacrificed.

At the time the cuts were made (there were also some very good ones that focused and strengthened the drama), it was assumed by all that they would in no way significantly affect or alter the statement of the play, for there is nothing in the omitted lines that is not implicit elsewhere in, and throughout, A Raisin in the Sun. But to think this was to reckon without two factors the future would bring into play. The first was the swiftness and depth of the revolution in consciousness that was coming and the consequent, perhaps inevitable, tendency of some people to assume, because the "world" had changed, that any "successful" work which preceded the change must embody the values they had outgrown. And the second was the nature of the American audience.

James Baldwin has written that "Americans suffer from an ignorance that is not only colossal, but sacred." He is referring to that apparently endless capacity we have nurtured through long years to deceive ourselves where race is concerned: the baggage of myth and preconception we carry with us that enables northerners, for example, to shield themselves from the extent and virulence of segregation in the North, so that each time an "incident" of violence so egregious that they cannot look past it occurs they are "shocked" anew, as if it had never happened before or as if the problem were largely passe. (In 1975, when the cast of Raisin, the musical, became involved in defense of a family whose home in Queens, New York City, had been fire-bombed, we learned of a 1972 City Commissioner of Human Rights Report, citing "eleven cases in the last eighteen months in which minority-owned homes had been set afire or vandalized, a church had been bombed, and a school bus had been attacked"-in New York City!)

But Baldwin is referring also to the human capacity, where a work of art is involved, to substitute, for what the writer has written, what in our hearts we wish to believe. As Hansberry put it in response to one reviewer's enthusiastic if particularly misguided praise of her play: ". . . it did not disturb the writer in the least that there is no such implication in the entire three acts. He did not need it in the play; he had it in his head."'

Such problems did not, needless to say, stop America from embracing A Raisin in the Sun. But it did interfere drastically, for a generation, with the way the play was interpreted and assessed-and, in hindsight, it made all the more regrettable the abridgment (though without it would we even know the play today?). In a remarkable rumination on Hansberry's death, Ossie Davis (who succeeded Sidney Poitier in the role of Walter Lee) put it this way:

The play deserved all this-the playwright deserved all this, and more. Beyond question! But I have a feeling that for all she got, Lorraine Hansberry never got all she deserved in regard to A Raisin in the Sun-that she got success, but that in her success she was cheated, both as a writer and as a Negro.

One of the biggest selling points about Raisin-filling the grapevine, riding the word-of-mouth, laying the foundation for its wide, wide acceptance-was how much the Younger family was just like any other American family. Some people were ecstatic to find that "it didn't really have to be about Negroes at all!" It was, rather, a walking, talking, living demonstration of our mythic conviction that, underneath, all of us Americans, color-ain't-got-nothing-to-do-with-it, are pretty much alike. People are just people, whoever they are; and all they want is a chance to be like other people. This uncritical assumption, sentimentally held by the audience, powerfully fixed in the character of the powerful mother with whom everybody could identify, immediately and completely, made any other questions about the Youngers, and what living in the slums of Southside Chicago had done to them, not only irrelevant and impertinent, but also disloyal ... because everybody who walked into the theater saw in Lena Younger ... his own great American Mama. And that was decisive.

In effect, as Davis went on to develop, white America "kidnapped" Mama, stole her away and used her fantasized image to avoid what was uniquely African-American in the play. And what it was saying.

Thus, in many reviews (and later academic studies), the Younger family-maintained by two female domestics and a chauffeur, son of a laborer dead of a lifetime of hard labor-was transformed into an acceptably "middle class" family. The decision to move became a desire to "integrate" (rather than, as Mama says simply, "to find the nicest house for the least amount of money for my family... Them houses they put up for colored in them areas way out always seem to cost twice as much.").

In his "A Critical Reevaluation: A Raisin in the Sun's Enduring Passion," Amiri Baraka comments aptly: "We missed the essence of the work-that Hansberry had created a family on the cutting edge of the same class and ideological struggles as existed in the movement itself and among the people.... The Younger family is part of the black majority, and the concerns I once dismissed as 'middle class'-buying a home and moving into 'white folks' neighborhoods'-are actually reflective of the essence of black people's striving and the will to defeat segregation, discrimination, and national oppression. There is no such thing as a 'white folks' neighborhood' except to racists and to those submitting to racism.

Mama herself-about whose "acceptance" of her "place" in the society there is not a word in the play, and who, in quest of her family's survival over the soul- and body-crushing conditions of the ghetto, is prepared to defy housing-pattern taboos, threats, bombs, and God knows what else-became the safely "conservative" matriarch, upholder of the social order and proof that if one only perseveres with faith, everything will come out right in the end and the-system-ain't-so-bad-after-all. (All this, presumably, because, true to character, she speaks and thinks in the language of her generation, shares their dream of a better life and, like millions of her counterparts, takes her Christianity to heart.) At the same time, necessarily, Big Walter Younger-the husband who reared this family with her and whose unseen presence and influence can be heard in every scene-vanished from analysis.

And perhaps most ironical of all to the playwright, who had herself as a child been almost killed in such a real-life story, the climax of the play became, pure and simple, a "happy ending"-despite the fact that it leaves the Younger s on the brink of what will surely be, in their new home, at best a nightmare of uncertainty. ("If he thinks that's a happy ending," said Hansberry in an interview, "I invite him to come live in one of the communities where the Youngers are going!") Which is not even to mention the fact that that little house in a blue-collar neighborhood-hardly suburbia, as some have imagined-is hardly the answer to the deeper needs and inequities of race and class and sex that Walter and Beneatha have articulated.
When Lorraine Hansberry read the reviews-delighted by the accolades, grateful for the recognition, but also deeply troubled-she decided in short order to put back many of the materials excised. She did that in the 1959 Random House edition, but faced with the actuality of a prize-winning play, she hesitated about some others which, for reasons now beside the point, had not in rehearsal come alive. She later felt, however, that the full last scene between Beneatha and Asagai (drastically cut on Broadway) and Walter's bedtime scene with Travis (eliminated entirely) should be restored at the first opportunity, and this was done in the 1966 New American Library edition. As anyone who has seen the recent productions will attest, they are among the most moving (and most applauded) moments in the play.

Because the visit of Mrs. Johnson adds the costs of another character to the cast and ten more minutes to the play, it has not been used in most revivals. But where it has been tried it has worked to solid-often hilarious-effect. It can be seen in the American Playhouse production, and is included here in any case, because it speaks to fundamental issues of the play, makes plain the reality that waits the Youngers at the curtain, and, above all, makes clear what, in the eyes of the author, Lena Younger-in her typicality within the black experience-does and does not represent.

Another scene-the Act 1, Scene Two moment in which Beneatha observes and Travis gleefully recounts his latest adventure in the street below-makes tangible and visceral one of the many facts of ghetto life that impel the Youngers' move. As captured on television and published here for the first time, it is its own sobering comment on just how "middle class" a family this is.

A word about the stage and interpretive directions. These are the author's original directions combined, where meaningful to the reader with the staging insights of two great directors and companies: Lloyd Richards' classic staging of that now-legendary cast that first created the roles; and Harold Scott's, whose searching explorations of the text in successive revivals over many years-culminating in the inspired production that broke box office records at the Kennedy Center and won ten awards for Scott and the company-have given the fuller text, in my view, its most definitive realization to date.

Finally, a note about the American Playhouse production. Unlike the drastically cut and largely one-dimensional 1961 movie version-which, affecting and pioneering though it may have been, reflected little of the greatness of the original stage performances-this new screen version is a luminous embodiment of the stage play as reconceived, but not altered, for the camera, and is exquisitely performed. That it is, is due inextricably to producer Chiz Schultz's and director Bill Duke's unswerving commitment to the text; Harold Scott's formative work with the stage company; Duke's own fresh insights and the cinematic brilliance of his reconception and direction for the screen; and the energizing infusion into this mix of Danny Glover's classic performance as Walter Lee to Esther Rolle's superlative Mama. As in the case of any production, I am apt to question a nuance here and there, and regrettably, because of a happenstance in production, the Walter-Travis scene has been omitted. But that scene will, I expect, be restored in the videocassette version of the picture, which should be available shortly. It is thus an excellent version for study.

What is for me personally, as a witness to and sometime participant in the foregoing events, most gratifying about the current revival is that today, some twenty-nine years after Lorraine Hansberry, thinking back with disbelief a few nights after the opening of Raisin, typed out these words-

... I had turned the last page out of the typewriter and pressed all the sheets neatly together in a pile, and gone and stretched out face down on the living room floor. I had finished a play; a play I had no reason to think or not think would ever be done; a play that I was sure no one would quite understand . . . .

-her play is not only being done, but that more than she had ever thought possible-and more clearly than it ever has been before-it is being "understood."

Yet one last point that I must make because it has come up so many times of late. I have been asked if I am not surprised that the play still remains so contemporary, and isn't that a "sad" commentary on America? It is indeed a sad commentary, but the question also assumed something more: that it is the topicality of the play's immediate events-i.e., the persistence of white opposition to unrestricted housing and the ugly manifestations of racism in its myriad forms-that keeps it alive. But I don't believe that such alone is what explains its vitality at all. For though the specifics of social mores and societal patterns will always change, the decline of the "New England territory" and the institution of the traveling salesman does not, for example, "date" Death of a Salesman, any more than the fact that we now recognize love (as opposed to interfamilial politics) as a legitimate basis for marriage obviates Romeo and Juliet. If we ever reach a time when the racial madness that afflicts America is at last truly behind us-as obviously we must if we are to survive in a world composed four-fifths of peoples of color-then I believe A Raisin in the Sun will remain no less pertinent. For at the deepest level it is not a specific situation but the human condition, human aspiration, and human relationships-the persistence of dreams, of the bonds and conflicts between men and women, parents and children, old ways and new, and the endless struggle against human oppression, whatever the forms it may take, and for individual fulfillment, recognition, and liberation-that are at the heart of such plays. It is not surprising therefore that in each generation we recognize ourselves in them anew.

Croton-on-Hudson, N.Y.
October 1988

From the Paperback edition.

Meet the Author

Lorraine Hansberry, at twenty-nine, became the youngest American, the fifth woman, and the first black playwright to win the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for the Best Play of the Year. Her A Raisin in the Sun has since been published and produced in some 30 countries, while her film adaptation was nominated by the New York critics for the Best Screenplay and received a Cannes Film Festival Award. At thirty-four, during the run of her second play, The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window, Lorraine Hansberry died of cancer. In the years since her death, her stature has continued to grow. To Be Young, Gifted and Black, a dramatic portrait of the playwright in her own words, was the longest-running Off-Broadway drama of 1969, and has been recorded, filmed, and published in expanded book form, and has toured an unprecedented forty states and two hundred colleges. In 1986, following the stage production of the 25th anniversary of A Raisin in the Sun by the Roundabout Theatre in New York City, the play was widely acclaimed as in the foremost ranks of American classics. In 1990, the PBS American Playhouse TV adaptation of the 25th-anniversary version had one of the highest viewing audiences in PBS history. Les Blancs, her last play—posthumously performed on Broadway and recently in prominent regional theaters—has been hailed by a number of critics as her best.

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A Raisin in the Sun 4.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 104 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
In "A Raisin in the Sun", Lorraine Hansberry tells the story of a poor African-American family living in Chicago during the late 50's. She is able to accurately portray the struggles of poverty and racism that existed worldwide during the time period portrayed in the story concerning the effects that money has on certain people and the ways peoples of different ethnic backgrounds were treated. The story centers around the Younger family, which consists of Walter and his wife Ruth, his sister Beneatha, his son Travis, and his mother, known as Mama. The initial conflict begins when a check for ten thousand dollars comes in the mail due to the recent passing of Walter's father. The Younger's, never being able to possess that amount of money, are unsure what to do with it. In their current state, the Younger's live in an apartment building in which they must pay rent every month, Beneatha needs money to pay for medical school, the apartment is becoming too small, especially since Ruth is expecting another baby, and the only real income is that of Walter who is a chauffer. Therefore, this money can help solve a lot of problems. But on the other hand, Walter and Mama have conflicting views on how the money should be spent. Walter, a man whose goal is to make a lot of money to support his family and live the American dream, wants to invest money in a liquor store which he believes will guarantee a steady influx of money for the family. However, Mama, a woman is only concerned about the well-being of her family and their happiness, believes that the money is best spent on a house that can finally be all theirs; this means no more paying rent to someone else and more space for the expected baby. Additional conflicts arise and new decisions have to be made. All play a large part in the plot that keeps the reader hooked until the unexpected chain of events that eventually lead to the riveting conclusion. As the story continues, one begins to develop a close relationship with the characters in the book, making the events that take place much more personal and heartfelt. One is able to feel what the character's in the story are going through, even if they have never been in a similar situation. It also stresses the struggle to survive in a world where people treat you differently because of the color of your skin and in which poverty is a recurring theme. Everything in the book was very interesting and every scene had different things which made the story flow and stay interesting the entire time. There were no dull moments in this book either. Although the overall mood of this book is serious and dramatic, comedy is present and sprinkled throughout the book. Overall, I thought that this was an excellent book that not only provided an entertaining read, but also an emotional journey through a time of poverty and racismthat encompasses one family's struggle to fulfill the American dream, overcome struggles, and live a life of peace and happiness.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I thought this book was very enlightening. Not the story but the fact it made such a big impact on both the African American and Caucasian community. Seeing the condition they were already living it, it's amazing they even could afford a house. And the crazy ending to everything Walter's investment and Mama's change of character or burst of emotion
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is an awesome book
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great book
Flowerpot_1987 More than 1 year ago
Lorraine Hansberry's play A Raisin in the Sun takes on the culture of the time through the eyes of a Chicago family living in a one room place. They take on financial, racial, social, and personal struggles tha shape their future.
I absolutely loved this play the first time I read it, and I think the best part of the play was when Brother lost all the money for the down payment for their new house on what turned out to be a scam. When he shouted "WILLIE!" over and over, I mean...that just...it was heartbreaking and the sorrow they all felt just jumped up from the page.
Wonderful, wonderful play.
Guest More than 1 year ago
In this play your heart will be tugged in different directions, not knowing who to side with, but in the end you will be sure of one thing: Family triumphs over all
Anonymous 24 days ago
Very entertaining read, love the emotion that many of the characters express during the play
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is so good. My class is reading this right now for language arts class. It is definately breathtaking.
efg326 More than 1 year ago
a. Reading Lorraine Hansberry’s play made me uncomfortable and helped me understand the extent of racism that the North possessed during the 1950s; I was under the illusion that the North was welcoming to African-Americans. This book shattered the idea I had of the North and brought to my attention the racism America still contains today. I realize I have easily ignored the difficulties that African-Americans face and I ignorantly have assumed that the wound has healed because I am white and I never experienced the plight of being black in America. I have lived in five different neighborhoods in my life and my family has never been told to move because we were not the ideal ethnicity. Hansberry’s play opened my eyes to the disparaging circumstances African-Americans have faced. I came to the realization that America still contains racism today, we just have become better at covering it up.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a great version, highly readable, good for classes!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book i originally read for 7th grade english. Being one of the few black kids in my school it was some times awkward reading such a heavily racial concious book. Aside from that awkwardness i felt reading the book was a great experience, not only for me, but for the...more privileged kids at my school. The writing was superb and the book has a lot of symbolism, makin it a very interesting read. What i love about it is how there could be so many different takes and meanings the story. Overall i loved it. :-) (-:
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Love it
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I had to read this ovr the summer for school and i thought itd b boring but it was actually pretty good
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I had to read this book for eight grade english i love it. Its about a family and there dreams it is an amazing book! Sad at a lotof points but it is soooooo good! I will be reading it again!
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is an awesome play it really has an undertone meaning and i love it. I used part of it as a monologue i used beneathas part sooo basicly im sayin this is an awesowme play so just get it and stop questioning whether to get it