I've been reading Tennessee Williams 'Sweet Bird of Youth'; his style isn't my favourite to begin with (though I enjoyed 'The Glass Menagerie') but this play in particular I found singularly depressing. It's not just the fact the characters all fail to find what they're seeking ('Ros. & Guil. Are Dead' is similar in that respect) or even that they've seen better days - the thing that gives it a twist of dead hopelessness is the fact that all the featured characters (and indeed the play itself) idolizes 'youth'. It's all very well to worship youth, but before long you will discover that it is a dying god - and unlike Osiris, Balder and countless other dying gods this one does not rise again.
Western culture (which now dominates much more than just the West) reveres, and makes exorbitant sacrifices to, this transient deity. Respect for the aged, acknowledgement of tradition, and valuing people for more than their superficial qualities are all smouldering on the altar. At one end of the spectrum we see the absurd burgeoning of beauty treatment products. At the other, euthanasia raises its ugly head. We have become obsessed, as Tolkiens Numenoreans were, with holding on to youth - we clutch desperately at vitality in the face of (or because of?) knowing no good reason to go on living.
The world is full of adults refusing to leave the nursery - shunning the sight of Age because of whom it serves. Only a very brave man or a simpleton does not fear Death. But in a perverse quest to cheat both Age and Death, many have indeed died - long before their hearts stopped beating.
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