How to use this Page

You know, when it has been a span of time since I have read or seen a Shakespeare play I begin to wonder why he is considered the pinnacle of English literature. I mean surely there have been other writers who are his equal? And I think and think and no names pop into my head, but I still believe there should be at least one writer, but who? Eventually I get distracted and am left with only a vague sense of I’m not sure what — disbelief perhaps — that there is no one else? Or is it unease? Because really, in 400 years for there never to have been a writer in English as good, as inventive, as influential seems impossible and rather sad for literature as though we’ve been in a state of slow decline ever since. And while I am sure there are plenty of people who would say English literature has gone downhill from Shakespeare, I am not among them. I hope I never find myself in old age, sitting in a rocking chair with my teeth in a glass on the table next to me telling some young whipper-snapper that literature just ain’t what it used to be, and when I was your age blah blah blah. Please, if this happens to me, someone hit my over the head with The Luminaries or other equally large tome.

Where was I? Oh yes, I forget, after being away from Shakespeare for awhile, how marvelous he is. I began reading King Lear the other day and have been reminded — My God! This man is brilliant! In the first two scenes he effortlessly sets everything in motion, Cordelia, her sisters, Lear, Edmund. Yes, yes, France takes Cordelia for his wife even without a dowry — so romantic! — but you know, even if you have never read/seen the play before, you know that things are going to go wrong, that Lear has thrown away everything he holds most dear and there will be no happy ending. And it is delicious, this knowing, this dread, this watching and not being able to look away, and always hoping that maybe something will happen and disaster will be narrowly averted.

It’s good stuff.

Is there any other English writer the equal of Shakespeare? I don’t know. Does it really matter?

Filed under: Books, In Progress, Plays, Shakespeare

Add a Comment

William Shakespeare's The Empire Striketh Back. (William Shakespeare's Star Wars #2) Ian Doescher. 2014. 176 pages. [Source: Library]

I really enjoyed reading William Shakespeare's Star Wars, Verily A New Hope. It was fun seeing the original movie as a Shakespeare play. I liked seeing the dialogue transformed. I liked finding my favorite lines. It was just a fun treat.

Though I definitely enjoy The Empire Strikes Back as a movie, I can't say that this adaptation did it justice. The balance does not feel quite right, in my opinion. Perhaps it errs too much on the side of Shakespeare? Perhaps the characters have become too in touch with their emotions and feelings, perhaps they are too fond of asides and soliloquies. Perhaps there is too much talking in general? I don't know. It could be as simple as me not being in the just-right mood.

Wampa: You viewers all, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest womp rat creeping on the floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When wampa through in wildest rage doth roar.
Pray know that I am a wampa simple am,
And take no pleasure in my angry mood.
Though with great force this young one's face I slam,
I prithee know I strike but for my food. (12)

AT-AT 1: My friends, we have had quite enough of talk:
The battle is upon us, let us go.
And ye who doubt, I pray remember this:
Although we are but AT-ATs gray and plain,
We have a noble task to undertake--
Our mighty Emperor's reign to protect,
The great Darth Vader to obey and aid,
And Admiral Piett to serve with pride.
So shall an AT-AT swoon before the fight,
Or should our legs be shaken ere th'assault?
Have we been made to cower? I say nay!
An AT-AT should be made of sterner stuff.

AT-AT 3 [to AT-AT2:] I pray, good walker, is he ever thus?

AT-AT 2: Aye, truly, Sir, I never yet have met
An All Terrain Armored Transport who
Is loftier of mind than this one here.
Indeed, although like us he's made of steel,
He never enters battle zones unless
He hath made some great speech to steel his nerves.
It does no harm.

AT-AT3: No harm, but to mine ears.
I'd rather fight than hear another speech. (45-46)

Exogor: Alas, another meal hath fled and gone,
And in the process I am sorely hurt.
These travelers who have escap'd my reach
Us'd me past the endurance of a block!
My stomach they did injure mightily
With jabs and pricks, as though a needle were
A'bouncing in my belly. O cruel Fate!
To be a space slug is a lonely lot,
With no one on this rock to share my life,
No true companion here to mark my days.
And now my meals do from my body fly--
Was e'er a beast by supper so abus'd?
Was e'er a creature's case so pitiful?
Was e'er an exogorth as sad as I?
Was e'er a tragedy as deep as mine?
I shall with weeping crawl back to my cave,
Which shall, sans food, belike become my grave. (86)

Yoda: Nay, nay! Try thou not.
But do thou or do thou not,
For there is no "try." (98)

Yoda: Warned thee I have--
He a reckless spirit hath.
Now matters are worse.
Obi-Wan: That boy is our first, last, and greatest hope.
Yoda: But nay, 'tis not so.
For another yet there is:
One more hope for us.

O how this plagues me!
The boy for training hath come,
But too soon is fled.

A young bird he is,
Too eager the nest to leave,
Yet trying to fly.

But young birds fly not--
Their wings still too fragile are.
Instead, they do fall.

And fall this one shall.
But how far, how fast, how long?
Time only shall tell.

Little bird, be safe.
If thou the nest seest again
I shall meet thee then. (112)

I'm not saying that there weren't enjoyable scenes in William Shakespeare's The Empire Striketh Back. There were. There always will be when the author sticks close to the inspiration. Luke. Hans. Leia. Yoda. There are characters that you can't help enjoying. (Yoda speaks in haiku in this play). But while I enjoyed the first book cover to cover, while I read it with glee, I can't say the same with this second book. I liked a scene here and there.

© 2014 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Add a Comment

Andromache by Euripides is a jam-packed play that goes from Andromache under threat of murder to a fight between Peleus, Achilles’ father, and Menelaus, to Orestes stealing away Hermione, Neoptolemus’ wife, to Neoptolemus being murdered, to his son with Andromache being sent to Molossia where he will then continue the line of Troy and Achilles by producing a long and prosperous reign of kings. It’s really crazy just how much Euripides does in this play without it completely falling to pieces.

It’s been a number of years since the fall of Troy and Andromache, Hector’s wife, was awarded to Achilles’ son Neoptolemus. They have a young son together. The play opens with Andromache as a suppliant in the temple of Thetis. Hermione, the legitimate wife of Neoptolemus, is barren and insisting that Andromache has cast a spell on her so she cannot bear children. Hermione is the daughter of Menelaus and Helen. Neoptolemus is away at Delphi, though expected back at any moment. In his absence, Menelaus has shown up and nominally taken charge of the household. He plots with Hermione to kill Andromache and her son who Andromache had hidden but Menelaus has found him. Andromache doesn’t know this at first and she thinks she just has to hold out until Neoptolemus gets back. Just in case though, she has sent for Peleus, Achilles’ father and Neoptolemus’ grandfather.

In the first part of the play we have Hermione in her rich queenly robes verbally sparing with Andromache, former princess of Troy, now dressed in slave’s clothes. There is a back and forth over who has the right to speak and who doesn’t. Hermione, being the wife, establishes as quickly as she can her right to speak freely and then launches into accusations against Andromache. Besides causing Hermione to be barren, Andromache is, according to Hermione, an opportunistic whore for having shared a bed with the son of the man who killed Andromache’s husband and bearing him a son.

Andromache, though a slave, refuses to keep her mouth shut. She did not willingly go to bed with Neoptolemus, as a slave she had no choice. She goes on to tell Hermione that it is not drugs and spells that keep Hermione from bearing children, but a husband who hates her — it is Helen’s fault Achilles is dead so by association, the son of Achilles hates the daughter of Helen. By the end of the long argument, Andromache clearly has the upper hand. At this time Menelaus arrives with Andromache’s son and joins the argument, telling her that he will spare her son if she leaves the altar of Thetis and allows him to kill her, Andromache.

Andromache puts up a good argument for her life and her son’s, so good that Menelaus, clearly at a loss, has to be saved by the chorus:

You are a woman talking to a man, and so you have said too much. You have lost sight of womanly modesty.

This allows Menelaus to spit out

Woman, this is petty business and unworthy of my regal power.

Which becomes a really interesting thing in light of Mary Beard’s recent lecture in the the public voice of women.

Menelaus tricks Andromache into leaving the altar with his promise to spare her son which he immediately takes back, saying he will not kill her son but Hermione will. At which point Andromache tosses out a nasty curse on Sparta.

There is an interesting political and racial dynamic in the play. Andromache is from Troy and therefore from the east. Hermione and Menelaus are Spartan. Neoptolemus is Greek. The play was produced sometime near the start of the Peloponnesian War between Sparta and Athens. Andromache’s curse on Sparta would have been quite a rousing moment for the Athenians watching the play.

Peleus finally shows up and he and Menelaus have a good argument in which Peleus bests Menelaus and sends him packing back to Sparta with a really lame excuse in order to save face. Then the play gets weird. Hermione unprotected by her father is frantic because she is sure that when Neoptolemus arrives he will kill her for having plotted to kill Andromache and his only son. So Orestes shows up. Yup, that Orestes, son of Agamemnon, chased by the Furies for killing his mother in revenge for her killing his father. He is currently having trouble with the Furies but his troubles aren’t so bad that he can’t run off with Hermione. Apparently Hermione had originally been promised in marriage to Orestes. But because of Troy and Achilles’ great deeds Hermione was given to Neoptolemus instead.

Now in a reenactment of Paris stealing Helen while Menelaus is away, Orestes steals Hermione while Neoptolemus is away. But Orestes is going to get away with it because he also went to the trouble of getting Neoptolemus killed at Delphi by the people there who thought he was planning on sacking the temple thanks to slanders by Orestes. Off they go and finally, after almost an entire play of everyone waiting for Neoptolemus to get home, he arrives, only he is dead and shows up being carried on a bier. Peleus is bereft now that his son and grandson are both dead. Thetis, who was once married to Peleus and is mother of Achilles, swoops in and makes it all right.

What is this play of domestic dispute about? The repercussions of war played out on a smaller scale to be sure. But also household rights, who can speak and how, who has power and who doesn’t. And there is warning for the men of Athens watching the play: don’t keep your wife and your mistress under the same roof. There are several references to this in the play as well as many more comments about how women like to plot against each other. Sigh.

Hecuba and Trojan Women were such powerful plays with strong women that Andromache, in spite of some really good speeches, is a bit of a let down. Though I admit Orestes stealing Hermione is a nice Days of Our Lives touch. Even though Euripides manages to keep the plot more or less in line, the play just doesn’t come together with a unified emotional force..

I think I’ll take a break from Euripides for a month or two. Then maybe I’ll come back with Medea. Or perhaps I should save that one for last?

Filed under: Ancient Greece, Plays, Reviews Tagged: Euripides

Add a Comment

My days of poking fun at ancient Greek plays are over. Hecuba is too awesome to make fun of. Euripides wrote Hecuba in 424 BCE. The play takes place not long after the fall of Troy. The Greeks are camped on the shores of the Thracian Chersonese. Hecuba, wife of Priam king of Troy, is among Agamemnon’s prizes. She has gone from Queen to slave, her husband is dead and all but one of her sons are dead. That son, Polydorus, was too young to fight in the war and was sent off to Thrace with a cartload of gold. Here he has been a guest of Polymestor, the king and a friend of Troy.

The play opens in an unconventional way for Greek tragedy. We have the ghost of Polydorus, the son Hecuba believes is still alive and safe, explain to us his fate. When Troy fell Polymester killed him and took all his gold. Polymester didn’t even give him a burial, but tossed his body into the ocean:

He killed me and flung me into the surging salt sea so that he could keep the gold in his own house. And I lie sometimes on the shore, sometimes in the rolling waters, carried on the constant ebb and flow of the waves. There is no one to weep over me, no one to bury me.

Until someone gives Polymester proper burial rites, he will remain a ghost.

But he is not the only ghost in the story. Achilles appeared above his tomb and demanded the sacrifice of Polyxena, Polydorus’ sister and Hecuba’s daughter. Until this is done, there will be no winds to sail the Greeks home. Nice bookend that, since Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia so the winds would blow the Greeks to Troy at the start of the war. Achilles demanding Polyxena be sacrificed was a shocking request and the Greek army argued over whether they should obey Achilles’ demand. They weren’t going to do it until Odysseus

that cunning-hearted
logic chopping, sweet-tongued courtier of the people

convinces them otherwise.

I never much liked Odysseus, and in the play my dislike of him is justified. He goes to the tent where Hecuba and her daughter and some other Trojan women are being kept and is a perfect unfeeling bastard. Hecuba, however, has nothing to lose and she goes at him toe to toe, trying every angle of verbal attack to get him to back down. Valiant as her efforts are, she cannot win. The good hearted Polyxena steps up and says she will go willingly since she no longer has any reason to live anymore. She chooses sacrifice with honor over spending the rest of her life as a slave.

Just after Hecuba hears the details of her daughter’s death and we think she can’t slip any deeper into despair and grief, her serving woman arrives to tell her that the body of Polydorus has been found on the beach. She cries out

All is over for unhappy Hecuba — I no longer exist.

Agamemnon takes pity on her and summons the Thracian king and his small sons to the camp where he arranges a meting for them with Hecuba. She takes her revenge after Polymester lies to her face. Hecuba kills Polymester’s sons and then blinds Polymester. In his grief and blindness he crawls on all fours on the ground, crying out his agony and asking to be avenged. But no one will come to his aid because he violated the sacred guest-friend laws by killing Polydorus.

The play ends with the winds beginning to blow. Agamemnon orders the army to dump Polymester on an island somewhere. And Polymester foretells Hecuba beng transformed into a dog and Agamemon’s death when he reaches home.

The play focuses on Hecuba but it also has moments in which it acknowledges the fate women face when men go to war:

From one man’s folly came evil for all,
bringing destruction on the land of Simois
with disaster for others too,
and the rivalry was settled
when the herdsman judged
the three daughters of the blessed ones on Ida,
settled with war, with blood and the ruin of my home.
And by the fair-flowing Eurotas
a Spartan girl laments at home, with many a tear,
and a mother beats her grey head with her hand
and tears her cheek, rending it with bloody nails,
for her children are dead.

One of the most groundbreaking things Euripides did was make his characters speak in everyday language. They do not talk in ritualized ways or formal speech, but as regular people talked. This, I think makes his plays so very powerful because it erases the distance between the characters on stage and the people in the audience so there is no escape from the pain of Hecuba’s grief and the force of her vengeance.

Filed under: Ancient Greece, Plays, Reviews Tagged: Euripides

Add a Comment

Sun & Sandstone is open for submissions for the Spring 2014 issue. We are looking for undergraduate works of poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and one act plays.

For submissions and guidelines, go to our website.

Deadline: April 15th, 2014

Add a Comment

Okay. I admit it. I've been lazy and unmotivated lately. My playwriting effort has been limited for the most part, to short plays/sketches because they come easy to me and they are also easy to submit to various short play festivals.

While in submission mode and providing an accompanying description as to my background, the thought occurs to me as to whether I should label myself "playwright", having never had a play produced. Is a professionally produced play necessary to give a person who writes plays, "playwright"? Is the mere act of completing a play alright to call ourselves playwrights? Just some thoughts. But I digress.

My playwriting achievements as I've frequently shared here in this blog, are two two-act plays, which have been submitted to perhaps two dozen theatres, a one-act play submitted to six sources, in addition to numerous short-shorts i.e. 10-20 minute and under play-ettes submitted to numerous competitions. They - the plays - are all still waiting for the theatre world to discover them, as is the playwright.

All of this is leading to a very interesting blog passed on by the Playwright's Competition Calendar, a blog to which I'm subscribed, focusing on rejection. Written by Monica Byrne, a writer and playwright, she shares a blog focusing on what she calls, her "anti resume, resume." In it, she lists her rejections and breaks it down further in percentages.

In my case and if a similar exercise was pursued, there would also be a section for started-but-not-completed plays, completed plays languishing in cyber space due to fear of rejection or plays with themes that don't seem to fit theatre's niche.

Excuses thy name is Eleanor but I found Monica's anti-resume somehow comforting. Perhaps playwrights or aspiring playwrights will feel the same way: http://monicacatherine.wordpress.com/2013/08/19/my-anti-resume/

Add a Comment

Pygmalion. George Bernard Shaw. 1912. 96 pages.

Pygmalion is another book I read for the book to movie reading challenge. There is a lovely 1938 movie starring Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller. If you've only seen Leslie Howard in Gone With The Wind, you should really make a point to see either Pygmalion OR The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934). Pygmalion was also the inspiration, of course, for the musical My Fair Lady starring Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn. Don't ask me to choose between Pygmalion and My Fair Lady. I happen to LOVE musicals, but Leslie Howard is oh-so-good in this one!!!

Pygmalion is certainly the inspiration for My Fair Lady. And I feel the musical stays, perhaps until the very end, true to the spirit of the original play. The songs fill in the gaps between the acts and scenes. The songs are quite expressive and provide insight on the individual characters. Through song, we learn more about what is going on in the house and about the months of training involved. On the other hand, in the book, there's a big gap between when Henry Higgins agrees to the experiment with Eliza Doolittle and her first outing. The first outing in the book is to Professor Higgins' mother's house. (The racing scene isn't in the original play.) Another big difference is that readers don't witness the big scene, the triumphant scene firsthand. Readers simply see the three returning home all dressed up. Readers hear the boasting and learn of the success after the fact. I really enjoyed the way My Fair Lady added to the original while keeping up the spirit.

Pygmalion is a short read, and it's also quite enjoyable!  

© 2013 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Display Comments Add a Comment

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Alice Walker famously argued that a"woman is not a potted plant." Whether we choose our paths or plant our own "seeds of change," women strive to fit in to the skin we are given. In our own words, writers,teachers, and speakers share their stories of finding themselves through shifts--from great to small.

We are seeking submissions for an anthology that will focus on stories about major life shifts regarding unspoken needs, social change, community, and defining self. This book will be written by and for women about change.

Submissions can be short stories,essays, plays and poems. 3,000 word maximum.

Submit to:

musewritecommunityATyahooDOTcom (Change AT to @ and DOT to .)

by June 1. 2013.

Add a Comment

It's becoming somewhat of an obsession but one in which Joe McKenna and his friends would most likely approve.

Added some more dialogue to "Old Soldiers" play today, although the ending is still up in the air. Wondering if it will ever have any solid substance.

"Really, Eleanor - we deserve better than this," Joe would comment upon my somewhat limited progress. "How much longer do we have to wait. It's been almost four years, now."

It's not for lack of trying. During sleepless nights, Joe and his friends plus the other characters pop in to say hello. Too bad that can't offer advice.

I'm fortunate to be a visual writer and see my words actually come to life and play out in the various scenes. Problems arise when I re-read the existing story line and the realization that something is awry. For example, my dilemma today was whether or not it's logical for a young character to be a great grandson and how old should he be? Then there is the issue of which war Joe and his friends were in.

This is followed by the dreaded 2-R's - Re-write and a Re-thinking - after which ennui sets in accompanied by self-doubt as to whether it will ever be finished. The problem is that I can't let it go for whatever reason. In writing my two other full plays that took approximately a year and-a-half to two years to complete, they seemed to write themselves. The two are so familiar to me that I can quote lines and passages from both.

One of my biggest concerns as expressed on numerous occasions that may be a contributing factor to the delay, is using the format for radio. The issue of having sufficient sound effects is always there. The dialogue is strong and if it was performed on stage would offer an interesting piece of theatre. However, my main objective is, as it always has been, to finish the play once and for all. And therein lays the problem.

Add a Comment

The Brown International Writers Project is currently seeking nominations and applications for its one-year fellowship with residency. The Fellowship is designed to provide sanctuary and support for established creative writers -- fiction writers, playwrights and poets -- who are persecuted in their home countries or are actively prevented from pursuing fee expression in their literary art.

The Fellow will be a member of a supportive community that includes faculty members and students in Brown's Department of Literary Arts and the Watson Institute for International Studies. The fellowship will be accompanied by a series of lectures, readings and other events that highlight the national/regional artistic and political culture of the writer and addresses the global issues of human rights and free expression. It will provide a stipend, relocation funds and health benefits. Brown will aid the writer in the visa and relocation process and provide administrative support, equipment and office space on the Brown campus in Providence, Rhode Island.

To apply or to nominate a candidate, send a letter, providing publishing history and explaining need, together with a resume, and a writing sample (preferably in English) of creative work by the candidate to:

Literary Arts, Box 1923
Brown University
Providence RI 02912

Or by electronic mail to:

 iwp(at)brown.edu (replace (at) with @)

Supporting letters from others are helpful. The application/nomination deadline for the next Fellowship is February 15, 2012.
Application Information

Postal Address:
Peter Gale Nelson
Literary Arts Department
Brown University
68.5 Brown Street/Box 1923
Providence, RI 02912

Phone:
401 863 3260

Email Address:

iwp(at)brown.edu (replace (at) with @ in sending email)

Add a Comment

The Great Plains Writers’ Conference, in cooperation with South Dakota State University’s American Indian Studies Program and American Indian Education and Cultural Center, announces the inaugural competition for a new annual award to encourage tribal writers in the early phases of their writing lives and to honor those of extraordinary merit and promise.

The winner, judged by AIS and AIECC, will receive an award of $500 and be invited to read at the Great Plains Writers’ Conference at SDSU March 24-26, 2013. This year’s conference focuses on examining the legacy of Vine Deloria, Jr.

WHO CAN SUBMIT: Tribal writers from the Dakotas, Nebraska, and Minnesota who have published no more than three creative works in distributed periodicals.

WORK ACCEPTED: Fiction, creative nonfiction, drama, or the screenplay (20 double-spaced pages maximum) or poetry (15 pages maximum).

LOGISTICS: Send materials by January 15, 2013 to:

Emerging Tribal Writers Award
English Department
South Dakota State University Box 504
Brookings, SD 57007

There is no application fee.

Visit our website.

Add a Comment

Greetings from Reunion: The Dallas Review

We are now accepting submissions. Reunion is a rising literary and fine arts journal sponsored by the School of Arts and Humanities at The University of Texas at Dallas, featuring high-quality poetry, fiction, non-fiction, visual arts, translation and drama.

We are seeking well-crafted quality work from across the nation and abroad to be featured in our large format, full color annual publication. Our current deadline is Dec. 15. Please visit our website to submit your work.

Add a Comment

The Greek tragedies by the “big three” are so formal and often over-the-top to my modern-day ear that I enjoy poking a bit of irreverent fun at them. I was looking forward to doing the same with Euripides’ Orestes but it is such an interesting play that I have to take it seriously. Mostly. I read a fantastic translation by Anne Carson. My respect for her work continues to grow the more I read it. She really is top-notch and better than Robert Fagles in my opinion.

I imagine Orestes was probably the third play in the traditional three-play cycle and we just don’t have the others. But since the introduction doesn’t mention this, perhaps Euripides placed it differently in his play cycle. Oh, wait, Euripides has an Elektra too. So much for reading in order. Anyway, the story that comes before this play is the murder of Agamemnon by his wife Clytemnestra when he returns from Troy. Orestes who has been fostered out, returns and kills his mother. Now, in this play he suffers the consequences: the Furies.

But Euripides does something so totally unexpected and I would love to have seen how the audience reacted when it was performed at the Dionysian Festival in 408 B.C. Whereas others like Aeschylus, portrayed the Furies as actual women flying through the air relentlessly chasing Orestes and tormenting him, Euripides turns them into a psychological metaphor for guilt. Not that they weren’t before, but the Furies in this play are all in Orestes’ head, they have no physical manifestation. Apparently Euripides introduced into Greek theatre

a concern for the solitary inward self, for consciousness as a private content that might or might not match up with the outside appearance of a person, that might or might not make sense to an observer. He lived at a time when philosophers as well as artists were becoming intrigued by this difference between outside and inside, appearance and reality, and were advancing various theories about what truth is and where truth lies.

In Euripides’ story of Orestes, his sister Elektra and his best friend Pylades helped him kill Clytemnestra at the command of the god Apollo. Nonetheless, Orestes is still being tormented with the guilt of murdering his mother even though he did the right thing according to Apollo and according to custom that the son must avenge the murder of his father. But it gets complicated when the murderer is your mother and there is a law against matricide.

This then being a psychological situation with Orestes looking inward we get conversation like this:

MENELAOS: What’s wrong with you? What sickness wastes you away?

ORESTES: Conscience. I know what I have done.

MENELAOS: How do you mean?

ORESTES: Grief is killing me.

MENELAOS: She is a dread goddess. But curable.

ORESTES: And fits of madness. Mother madness. Mother blood.

It has only been six days since his mother’s burial. Though surprised by his grief and guilt, he is still expecting Apollo to come through for him and absolve him of his crime and madness.

The town has been holding the guilt-stricken Orestes and his co-conspirators captive trying to figure out what to do with them. Menelaus, Agamemnon’s brother arrives with his wife Helen and their daughter Hermione on the eve of the town taking a vote on whether or not Orestes and friends will be stoned to death. Orestes pleads with Menelaus to intercede for them but he pretty much claims he can’t do anything but that he will try anyway. Elektra, Orestes and Pylades start making a plan directed at the hateful Helen (“the weapon of mass destruction” she is called in the play by Pylades) who they see as being the one at fault for the mess they are in since she is the one who started the war and thus the whole chain of terrible events leading up to this moment in time.

<

Add a Comment

Palooka is a nonprofit literary journal open to diverse forms, seeking fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, plays, graphic short stories, graphic essays, comic strips, artwork, photography, and multimedia for Issue #5 and #6.

Always excited to see new work! Happy submitting!

Our submissions link.

Add a Comment

Much Ado About Nothing. William Shakespeare. 1599.

This "review" assumes you know the story, I provide no summary. These are just my ever-rambling thoughts on rereading my most-favorite-and-best Shakespeare play. 

Much Ado About Nothing has to be my favorite, favorite, favorite Shakespeare play! Why? Well, it's not exactly because of Claudio and Hero, the young couple whose courtship and marriage we're supposed to be celebrating merrily. Hero just isn't as interesting a character as her cousin, Beatrice. And Claudio, well, Claudio is a little clumsy. I'm thinking not only of the fact that he believes the worst of Hero and plays a big, big role in slandering her. Though, of course, that might be what first comes to mind. But I'm thinking of the fact that he's easily led by others. First, he's seeking approval for making the match, wanting--needing--to have everyone tell him and reassure him that Hero is a good woman, that the match would be a good one, that marriage would be good for him. So with the full approval of his superior (superior in many ways, I imagine) Don Pedro, the proposal is arranged. But while Claudio is waiting and waiting and anxiously waiting to hear her answer, he listens to Don John. And in an instant he thinks the worst of his friend. Yes, as Beatrice points out, Claudio controls his jealousy, his temper, being merely "civil." But still, you can tell he's struggling to keep composed. When he learns the truth, all is well again, crisis averted, normalcy returned. With sweet, sweet Hero by his side, Claudio becomes merry-hearted once again. But the next time Don John comes whispering in his ear, what happens again? Does he trust sweet, sweet Hero? No. Now, in his defense, Don John did arrange things cleverly. So it's not like Claudio is completely, completely, completely an idiot for falling into this trap. For acting on it in the way he did, perhaps. Could he have handled things better? Definitely! The non-wedding screaming match can be a little too much. With practically every character having a temper tantrum all at once. While we're considering different options, Margaret could have told someone, anyone--either privately or publicly--the truth. Granted, she was probably humiliated and ashamed and wanting to hide until the storm passed. But still. She knew the truth and did nothing. And I do have a hard time with Leonato and his response to the big reveal. Seriously. She's your own daughter and you automatically assume the worst and side with Claudio, Don Pedro, and Don John?! Really?! After knowing her all those years, those many many years. After knowing how sweet and gentle and passive and obedient and silent she is, was it in her nature at all to suddenly act so contrary? I mean it's one thing for other people to think the worst of you when they hear the worst of you, but for your very own father to act in such a way, it's just insane. No wonder Hero fainted away. I do have to admire Beatrice, not to mention the friar, for being the only logical, sane people at the affair. Both know that Hero is innocent, truly innocent, that it would be impossible for Hero to be other than what she is. Now, Beatrice is more fiery about defending her, but, I can't say that I exactly blame her. Because that's who Beatrice is.

I think I've talked about Hero and Claudio enough. The heart of Much Ado About Nothing, of course, is Beatrice and Benedick. I love, love, love this couple. In fact, I'm not sure three loves are enough. They are truly one of my most favorite couples ever. I just LOVE and ADORE them both. I love their scenes. I love their banter. I love what they bring out in each other. Their

Add a Comment

Twelfth Night. William Shakespeare. 1601-02. 272 pages.

If music be the food of love, play on;

I recently treated myself to a reread of Shakespeare's play Twelfth Night. Now Twelfth Night is not one of my favorite, favorite Shakespeare comedies. (That would be Much Ado About Nothing followed by A Midsummer Night's Dream.) But it is one I have read several times before. And it does have some GREAT scenes in it. (It is also the only Shakespeare I've seen performed on stage.)

Viola and Sebastian are brother and sister. Each think the other has perished in the shipwreck. Viola arrives in Illyria and decides to disguise herself as a young man taking the name Cesario. She enters the service of the Duke (Orsino). One of her tasks is to woo a young woman still in mourning, Olivia. Cesario delivers Orsino's messages just as he asks, but her heart isn't exactly in it. For she has fallen for the Duke herself, a matter only complicated by the fact that Olivia has fallen in love with her. Not that Olivia knows she's fallen in love with a woman-in-disguise. (I'm reminded of a Dorothy Sayers quote!!!) But still. Meanwhile, the audience becomes aware that Sebastian is very much alive and is also in Illyria. He has become friends with Antonio. That covers the "romance" of the play. (I'll leave it up to you to decide if it's truly-truly romance.) The comedy, for the most part, focuses on a cast of side characters mostly attached to Olivia's household. These include Malvolio, Maria, Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and Feste. Essentially, a group of people team up to make a big, big fool of Malvolio.

Read Twelfth Night

• If you enjoy a light blend of romance and comedy; the language is very beautiful in places--love the opening line!!! And some of the scenes are just very funny! 
• If you're a fan of William Shakespeare

© 2012 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Display Comments Add a Comment

Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders Journal, an annual journal published in Southern New Mexico is now accepting poems, short stories, essays or short plays for issue # 17. Submissions must be unpublished but are not limited to writers of the Southwest, and “borders” can be interpreted broadly. Send 3-5 poems or one short prose piece with SASE to:

Sin Fronteras/Writers Without Borders
c/o DAAC
PO Box 1721
Las Cruces, NM 88004

Deadline is June 30, 2012.

Copies of Issue No. 16 are available from the address above for $8 plus $2 postage; prior issues for $5 each plus $2 postage.
Dick Thomas and Ellen Roberts Young are co-editors of the Journal. Queries: ellenpeter(at)cs.com. No email submissions.

Add a Comment

 

If you write fiction, should you write light copy or dark? Is the choice like that of light or dark turkey at Thanksgiving? Does your preference reflect your inner workings or your reading preference? And does it matter?

Authors like Stephen King write both. A reader doesn’t normally think of the author of “Carrie,” and “The Green Mile,” as writing “Faithful: Two Diehard Boston Red Sox Fans Chronicle the Historic 2004 Season.” In case you’re wondering, he also wrote another book on baseball, too.

Poets explore both paths to find explanations and impressions of the world’s workings and their own. Finding the humanity in dark literature isn’t new. It has a long tradition.

Mary Shelley created Frankenstein as more than a dark novel. The story roams through the reader’s mind as a look into a sinner’s guilt and requisite redemption, a romance set within the framework of a nightmare, and a glimpse of the terror-ridden existence of a life that should never have arisen. Like King, Shelley rolled human fears and motivations into a neat bundle and served it up as dark meat for the reader.

But Shelley was hardly the first to venture into the realm of shadows, sin, and the seamier side of life. The ancient Greek playwrights Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides gave the world dark tragedy with attitude. Their plays, such as Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, certainly weren’t meant for the faint of heart.

These stage ventures also contained romance, sin and redemption themes, Gods—vengeful and otherwise–and human frailty. These ancient writers set more than the Greek stage. They put civilization on the road of writing works that drew the viewer into another’s tragedy, or comedy, and sent the mind spinning off into realms of distraction from the viewer’s everyday experience.

Comedy such as the wildly satirical work of Aristophanes allowed the audience to laugh instead of cry at the doings of man. The playwright used the play’s chorus to deliver scathing humor at the expense of the drama.  This playwright, 2000 years later, continues to rank as a master of dark comedy with a twist.

Today’s writers strive for the same effect. Stephanie Meyer’s “Twilight” series follows Shelley’s trademark theme. Vampires, too, seem to be created by others with agendas to keep.

Writers have a choice of how they present their ideas about the world and the players in it. Romance makes way for tragedy, while comedy lands on its feet next to the potential absurdity of fantasy, as that genre tries to remake history with personal ideals and mythical creat

Display Comments Add a Comment

Cyclops by Euripides is the only complete satyr play that has survived the ages. Satyr plays are short, often comedic plays that were performed after each trilogy of tragedies. It is speculated that satyr plays were a sort of emotional release from the build up of tension during the three tragedies.

A satyr, in case you have forgotten your Greek mythology, runs around with a bunch of other satyrs serving the god Dionysus, drinking and wenching. The head satyr is Silenus who is a minor deity himself and associated with fertility.

In Cyclops, Silenus and his merry band of satyrs shipwrecked and are trapped on the island of the cyclops Polyphemus working as his slaves, preparing his food and tending his flocks of sheep. The satyrs are miserable because there are no women on the island for them to chase around and have sex with, nor is there any wine.

Odysseus shows up, his ship blown off course as he is trying to make his way home after the Trojan War. He stops at the island for food and water. Polyphemus is out and about and Odysseus and Silenus and the chorus of satyrs get to have a nice chat about how things are going for all of them. The chorus is especially curious about how things went at Troy. Here is a little taste of the conversation:

Chorus: Did you Greeks capture Troy and take Helen prisoner?

Odysseus: Yes, and we sacked the entire house of Priam’s children.

Chorus: And after you’d captured the young woman, didn’t you all take turns to bonk her, since she enjoys having more than one sexual partner? The traitress! All it took was the sight of the pretty colours of the trousers on his [Paris] legs and the golden necklace he wore around his neck, and she was swept off her feet, and abandoned that excellent little man, Menelaus. I wish there were no women anywhere – except for my use.

Yes, it is a lewd play with lots of sexual gestures, slang and innuendos throughout. It is the kind of play that truly only a theatre full of men would find funny. And since women were not allowed to attend the plays or act in them, the theatre really was filled only with men.

The rest of the play goes along more or less like the same episode in the Odyssey with Polyphemus catching Odysseus and his men with plans to eat them for dinner. Odysseus and the satyrs get Polyphemus drunk and at one point the cyclops grabs Silenus who has been serving him the wine and, since there are no female cyclopes around, declares that he will take his relief with his “Ganymede”. The rape is averted by quick thinking from Odysseus. Odysseus then tells the cyclops his name is “Nobody,” Odysseus blinds the cyclops and he, his men and the satyrs all escape the island.

I didn’t like this play at all and there isn’t anything funny I can say about it. The misogyny was too much so even the priapic silliness was not amusing. Makes me glad we only have on complete satyr play.

Filed under: Ancient Greece, Plays, Reviews Add a Comment

After reading Euripides’ play, Children of Heracles, I undertook a little extra research in an attempt to sort out just what was what and who was who. Holy Hole in a Doughnut! (as Robin said in Batman, “Zelda the Great”, season one episode 9) Our man Heracles was not having tea and scones with all the women he met. Nor were the children he killed in the last Euripides play I read, Heracles, the only time Hera caused him to go mad and kill his children. So I guess, in this instance, it paid off to have lots of children by lots of different women.

For Children of Heracles, first performed in 430 BC, it is important to know that Eurystheus, the dude who has been chasing the old man Iolaus (Heracles nephew and friend), old lady Alcmene (Heracles’ mother) and many of Heracles’ children (of various ages) from town to town is the same dude for whom Heracles had to perform all his labors. Heracles had to undertake his famous labors as purification for killing six of his sons. It is interesting to note that the second time Heracles killed some of his children all he had to do to purify himself was go to Athens with his pal Theseus and perform some animal sacrifices. My how times change. Anyway, Eurystheus and Heracles are basically pawns in the ongoing marital spat between Hera and Zeus. Eurystheus is Hera’s champion and Heracles is Zeus’s son and champion.

In the play, Heracles is really and truly dead this time, not just suspected of being dead. So now Eurystheus is after Heracles’ children, also known as the Heracleidae, in an effort to kill them all because, why not? The kids and the old folks finally take refuge as suppliants in Athens, currently ruled by Demophon, son of Theseus. We know what good friends Herc and Thes were so Demophon decides to provide them a refuge even when threatened by war.

This being a tragedy, however, there’s a hitch. After consulting the oracles, Demophon learns that the only way Athens will win in a battle against Eurystheus is if a highborn maiden is sacrificed to Persephone. Even for the Greeks human sacrifice was a shocking thing so one can imagine a collective gasp from the audience when Demophon tells the news to Iolaus. Demophon rightly says that he will not sacrifice any of his daughters nor will he ask any Athenian to do so. One of Heracles’ daughters steps up and offers herself. In the play she doesn’t even get a name, she is simply “maiden.” In the whole myth drama though, her name is Macaria.

Everyone is relieved that Macaria offers herself willingly. Iolaus, maybe feeling a bit guilty though, suggests that she and her sisters can draw straws. Macaria says no, she’s the one who will be sacrificed and goes into a long explanation about why it is better for her to die for the cause. Demophon says great, we’ll remember you always and she is hustled off stage. There apparently is a spring near Athens called Macaria so Demophon was true to his word.

Then the play gets just plain silly. Eurystheus’ army arrives on the plain outside Athens and Iolaus demands armor and weapons because he plans to fight too. There is then a nearly slapstick exchange between Iolaus and a cheeky servant:

Servant: Sir, your strength is not what it once was.

Iolaus: But all the same I shall fight as many men as ever.

Servant: But the weight you add will hardly tip the scales in favour of your friends.

Iolaus: My enemies will all give up at the sight of me.

Servant: Sight alone wounds no one: the arm has to be involved.

Iolaus: What do you mean? May not even my blow pierce a shield?

Servant: You may aim a blow, but you might fall down before it lands.

And it continues on for quite a few more lines. It is determined that the servant will carry all of Iolaus’ armor and weapons to the field of battle because everyone is worried Iolaus will fall down u

Add a Comment

How does one stop a raging Heracles? Throw a boulder at him. No, that’s not a bad joke, that is how Athena brings Heracles, who has been driven mad by the goddesses Iris and Madness at the order of Hera, back to his senses in the ancient Greek play by Euripides, Heracles. But I get ahead of myself.

Our hero Heracles is off performing his final labor, bringing Cerebus up from Hades to the light of day. He’s been gone a long time and presumed dead by many. Back in Thebes, Lycus has staged a coup and has decided that he is going to kill Heracles’ father Amphitryon, his wife Megara (the daughter of the rightful king of Thebes) and Heracles and Megara’s children. Lycus wants to burn them all alive, but Megara, hoping to buy some time, manages to convince him to let them dress themselves in funeral robes and be killed properly (burning is a coward’s death).

All this talk about being put to death goes on with the children present. They are naturally upset by it and start crying and clinging to Megara’s skirts. Amphitryon tells Megara to calm the children down by deceiving them “with the poor deceit of stories.” Since the children are right there when he says this, it is obvious that Amphitryon doesn’t think they understand what he is talking about. The children aren’t babies though, they are three young boys probably from toddler to about age five or six.

Just a few pages later as Megara and Amphitryon are negotiating the conditions of their deaths with Lycus, while the children are still right there, Amphitryon says:

But there is one favour we beg of you, lord: kill me and this poor woman here before you murder the children, so that we don’t have to witness the hideous sight of them breathing their last and calling on their mother and grandfather.

Obviously the adults don’t think the children will be distressed watching their grandfather and mother be murdered! To add to this, in a few more pages as Megara is dressing the boys in their funeral robes, she tells each of them what kingdoms Heracles has planned to give each of them when they came of age so they would know how much their father loved them and how rich they would have been if they weren’t about to be murdered. From the play it seems the Greeks thought highly about the physical well-being of their children but had no thought at all for their mental or emotional well-being. Maybe that’s why there were so many wars between cities, the men had to find some kind of outlet for their mental and emotional issues. And the poor women, I suppose they took it out on their slaves.

Anywho, so along with all this, Amphitryon is feeling a bit betrayed by Zeus. Zeus is Heracles’ biological father and Amphityron sees himself as having allowed Zeus to share his wife, Heracles’ mother. He considers himself and Zeus to be co-fathers and thinks that Zeus owes him something for the privilege. Because Zeus is not intervening he declares himself the better father since he didn’t betray Heracles or Heracles’ sons. Amphitryon talks big but really, when Zeus shows up and wants your wife it’s not like you have any say in the matter. He’s lucky Zeus didn’t strike him dead with a thunderbolt or turn him into a toad or something.

About two-thirds of the way through the play Heracles finally shows up all full of himself and looking for a bath, a good home-cooked meal and a roll in the hay with his wife. Only he finds them all in tears and dressed in funeral attire. They tell him what has happened and Heracles being Heracles says, don’t worry, I’m back and I’ll kick Lycus’ ass, so

Cheer up, and stop these floods of tears. And you, wife, pull yourself together and stop trembling — and let go of my cloak, all of you! I have no wings; I’m not about to flee from my loved ones. Oh, they’re not letting go my cloak, but are clinging t

Add a Comment

Asylum No More is the title I'm trying out today for my new play. One of my playwright friends suggested Asylum. I like it. I like a few more words.
When you see the above title, what do you picture in your mind, or hear in your head? Do you think no more sanctuary? Or the end of an insane asylum? Maybe both? Both would be ideal. Either one is good.
The one word title could be good as well. Because it means both things: sanctuary and loony bin. My protagonist works at the State Asylum. She helps people escape. By the end of the play, she will leave the asylum forever, and she will also try to put an end to the hospital itself.
I've decided on which characters are necessary for the play. I've outlined it. I've done the 15 beat sheet. I have a working title. In the next couple of days I will begin writing scenes. Today I have a murderous migraine that I can't treat until late tonight because I have an event I cannot miss. The young woman I mentored when she was in high school has finally returned to college as an adult and is graduating from college tonight, and has invited me. I wouldn't dream of missing this special occasion. So today, I'm working on the title only. I'm wondering what your thoughts are about my title? Any suggestions or comments?

Add a Comment

The world premiere of the play What The Moon Saw, or "I Only Appear To Be Dead" by Stephanie Fleischmann is less than a month away. The play sees Hans Christian Andersen experiencing his stories in a post-9/11 world. The main pieces featured are The Little Mermaid, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, The Little Match Girl, The Snow Queen, and, of course, What the Moon Saw.

Though the production is not a musical, it does have original music. Please note that the songs listed below are not in the show, but rather tend to be the songs that play in my head when I'm rehearsing my lines or approaching the theatre.

Moon by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová
Sad Stephen's Song by Duncan Sheik
I'm in Love by Maria Mena
Wedding Dress by Matt Nathanson
It's Only a Paper Moon written by Harold Arlen, E. Y. Harburg, and Billy Rose (Any number of artists have sung this, so pick your favorite version!)
All I Wanna Do by Sheryl Crow (inspired by the poem Fun by Wyn Cooper)
All I Wanna Do cover by Amy Studt
Why Should the Fire Die? by Nickel Creek
You'd Ought To Be Satisfied Now by Jonatha Brooke (words by Woody Guthrie, music by Jonatha Brooke)
Moonchild by Cibo Matto
Moon by David Poe

Add a Comment

I wish I could also say "right here in River City ..." but not quite yet. However, there are companies in the US who are making it their mission to create equity, and Halcyon Theatre in Chicago is one of them. They are offering a festival of FULL PRODUCTIONS, of five women playwrights this summer. Go here and see: http://www.halcyontheatre.org/mission
This isn't their first year to produce women's plays either, but this year they went out and got five women to write plays inspired by other women's plays (from the past). Who wouldn't love to see that? If you are in or around Chicago, go see. If you can make the trip, go do. If you have funds you can share to support Halcyon's mission, please do that. Support women playwrights however you can, please. Right now, women are being produced only 20% compared to men. We are aiming for 50% by 2020. Anything you can do to support that is much appreciated. Talk to your theatre companies. Let them know you appreciate seeing plays by women, want to see plays by women, then show up when they present plays by women. Women write every kind of play. My last play is "The Godmother." It's about the mob in Kansas City during the Prohibition. In case you thought she was a fairy godmother in a silver coach with white horses. Just saying. Now get outa here you crazy kids.

Add a Comment

Euripides’ play Alcestis is – er – interesting. It is the earliest of Euripides’ surviving plays. Performed at the Dionysian festival in Athens in 438 BCE, it took the place of a satyr drama as last in a group of plays by Euripides. While we no longer have the three tragedies it followed, we know their titles at least, Cretan Women, Alcmaeon in Psophis, and Telephus.

Alcestis is a play that isn’t performed much these days because it isn’t exactly woman-friendly. Women in Athens were supposed to stay indoors, not be discussed in public, be thrifty, never have sex with anyone but her husband, and produce many healthy children, preferably boys. Alcestis, the title character of the play, is everything the perfect wife should be, including beautiful.

When the play opens Alcestis is on the verge of death. Her husband, Admetus, was supposed to die earlier that year but managed, with the help of Apollo, to make a deal with death. If Admetus could find someone willing to die in his place, then he would be spared. Admetus asked his aging parents and they had the temerity to refuse. He asked other family members and friends. No one would die for him. So his wife, Alcestis, stepped up and offered to die in his place. Now her time has come and she dies the noble death deserving of the perfect woman, lauded for her sacrifice by all who knew her.

Admetus, the selfish bastard, is sick with grief. He begs his wife not to die. Oh, how I wanted to punch him in the nose! Dude! She’s dying because of you! Maybe you should have thought things through a little better!

While Alcestis is being prepared for burial, Heracles shows up on his way to Thrace to perform one of his labors, fetching the four-horse chariot of Diomedes. He shows up at Admetus’ place looking for a meal and a comfortable bed. Greek customs of hospitality come in conflict with the requirement that Admetus mourn his wife. Admetus is in a pickle. He can’t turn Heracles away but he shouldn’t be welcoming him into his house either.

Heracles is astute enough to notice that someone has recently died but when he asks Admetus who it was, he tells Heracles it was no one of importance. He then has Heracles whisked away to so he doesn’t see Alcestis being carried out of the house to the family tomb.

In comes Pheres, Admetus’ father, offering condolences and finery to bury Alcestis in. But Admetus will have nothing to do with his father, even goes so far as to disown him, all because he blames him for his wife’s death. If only his father who, while he is getting old is certainly not about to kick the bucket, if only he had given up his life for his son, then Alcetis would still be alive. While everyone had been praising Alcestis’ sacrifice and mourning with Admetus, not one person pointed a finger at him and said things wouldn’t be this way if it weren’t for him. But Pheres refuses to be Admetus’ scapegoat:

I gave you life and brought you up to be master of my house, but I am not obliged to die for you. My ancestors have not handed down to me the rule that fathers should die for their sons, and this is not a Greek tradition either. [...] You enjoy being alive – do you think your father doesn’t? By my calculations, we spend a good long time down below, while life is short but sweet. At any rate, you fought shamelessly against death, and you’re living now beyond your appointed time because you condemned her to death. And you accuse me of cowardice – you, the ultimate coward, who proved worse than the woman who died for you, her fine husband?

While personally I was cheering Pheres on during his long rant at Admetus, the Greeks wouldn’t have been. No, there is no tradition or

Add a Comment