Carrie is the only book I ever put down because I knew I was too young for it. It was the summer between fourth and fifth grade and I was staying with cousins, taking the opportunity to raid their bookshelves. I flipped idly through the book’s opening, got to the shower scene (“Plug it up! Plug it up!”), and–for once in my life–realized I was in over my head. The combination of nudity, menstruation, and sadism, all happening to kids just a few years older than I was, overwhelmed me. I’m not ready for this, I thought.
Part of Carrie’s power is that it’s a story about the universal experience of not being ready: for change, for moral responsibility, for life after high school. It’s a story which speaks to the boy sitting in jail, the girl staring at the pregnancy test waiting to see if the second line will show up. We treat youth as a Las Vegas of the soul, but what we do in our youth is as irrevocable as what we do everywhere else.Spoilers for Carrie–the book, movie, and musical–below.
DC’s Studio Theatre is staging “Carrie: The Musical” through August 3, on its smaller upstairs stage. I was surprised to find that the elements of Carrie White’s story which usually resonate most deeply with me left me pretty cold here, and the one element I’ve always dismissed was the one which most chilled and haunted me.