The 20th century was miserable. I can’t say that from personal experience – my cognitive awareness reached its peak when I turned six in 1999. I also can’t say that the 20th century was more or less miserable than any other century. Every place and time has its own troubles, on both individual and community scales. What I can say, however, is that the (American) 20th century’s particular variety of misery yielded a slew of depressing and gloomy literary works. Among this canon, and, in fact, perched at the very height of melancholy, rests Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.