There`s one thing that has surprised me many times - how can it be that I tend to find interesting books in my book shelf? It`s quite typical to me to be sure that everything that I have in my shelves I`ve either read or it`s not worth being read (or - the most typical case: both). And now and then I find something useful. This play by Arthur Miller, for example. Although "The Death of a Salesman" is considered to be his finest work, I can`t totally agree with that - this play is by no means flawless. Some of it`s aspects seem fine enough for me, but not all. Willy is an old salesman who`s American dream plays the usual trick upon him - he`s sixty now, he gets sacked despite the good work he has been doing for many decades now, his children are useless junkies and his health isn`t good either. So he commits suicide. That`s it. I`d write more but I have to make a presentation about program testing for tomorrow, so I can`t do nothing about it. Alas.