Oh, I dunno. I am truly not in the mood for the in-its-place-very-effective combination of the austere, the verfremdsy and the social realist that Brecht brings. I want real tearful people and psychological insights, here, now. And as a result I read with inattention and missed key things, like how not only was Shen Teh dressed up as her cousin Shui Ta but she was the only ever Shui Ta (I was waiting, to the degree I was waiting for anything, for real and fake Shui Ta to collide, with hijinx), like things like that. I get that this is a quotidian-main-street-fascist allegory, I get that the only way we can be good is to split ourselves in two, I get that the only way a woman can be good is to also be bad and a man, I get that good and evil are emergent properties of the relations of production, yeah yeah yeah. And Shen Teh certainly rises above her surroundings in a simple and affective way ("When I saw his sly smile I was afraid, but / When I saw the holes in his shoes I loved him dearly") But despite the shot of everyday Marx and the farcical gods and the grace notes, this felt very often like a thesis or exercise with events that did not rise from cliché to archetype. ( )