To the editors:
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She presents us with a cast of seven in her dark little melodrama. On one side of the conflict are three females: DiGangi herself, a tightly-wound bundle of angst, bewilderment and naive determination–a militant throwback to the late sixties, when certain types of women got together to play with each other’s pussies in the name of women’s liberation; the expectant mother, described only as having “downright sweetness and genuine curiousity” and seeming “to possess a spiritual superiority”; and the expectant mother’s infant daugher, painted by DiGangi to seem like a lethargic little victim-in-waiting.
On the other side, four males: a crass cabdriver whose sole function is to signal DiGangi’s descent into a male-dominated hell (perhaps she saw but just forgot to mention the sign on his door which said, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here”); an indifferent, seemingly unplugged, doctor; an ineffectual, rather stupid husband; and a dream-generated spectre of the pregnant woman’s cruel father, who once “forced” her to drink a shot of booze.
Harold G. Hofstetter
