Twentieth Century Chats, in Six Acts

What is this?

Six acts? Seems unnatural.

It's interesting. I figured it was derivative. I read it several times trying to glean meaning because of my teaching past I guess. If I had to teach this tomorrow to a class of college freshmen I wonder what I would say. I've been in that what in the world am I going to say situation more times than I care to remember.:-)

I was thinking five acts for some reason. Anyway, nice to see boundaries pushed!

Nicely inventive.

So much true dark humor here, I think it should be expanded upon, but very much enjoyed the shot!

"J. KIDDING: Everyone suffers. Can you lend me your cat?"

*.

;)

#yeah

Several things come to mind; first of which - before I read your reply to Dianne is the theatrical conceit of 6 Authors in Search of an Author by Pirandello, somehow courting elements of characters playing off one another in Stamboul Train and for the life of me- Henry James's meditative 'vigil in Portrait of a Lady: ... " what an ‘exciting’ inward life may do for the person leading it even while it remains perfectly normal ... It is a representation simply of her motionlessly seeing, and an attempt withal to make the mere still lucidity of her act as
‘interesting’ as ... served with the dark humour of Naked Lunch. I could go on...

though perhaps it's enough to suggest a delicious subtle parody of our 'Post-Truth Trauma wherein actors might never find their true authors in such 'woke' aftermath... x ever A.

I couldn't help myself, Edward, but conjure up Pirandello's play. Yes. Something along the lines of Godot meets Twilight Zone in post WWII.

Good sweep of the past century in terms of the psychology of the time -

"J. KIDDING, divided self with prospects, unemployed nuisance

DEATH, we know who s/he is

COL. MORD, myopic pillar, well-mannered exterminator"

The closing scene captures the mad uncertainty of the first quarter of the new cent. - that's for certain:

"DOLLY CUPQUAKE: He, sure, is not in hell. Do you think I keep thieves in my house?

T. BURKULAR: My work may take me out of New York.

COL. MORD: What does that mean? Have they lost what's left of their wits?

GALAHAM: What? Facts?

DEATH: Oh, no reason at all."

This is a good read. It's fragmented, but the moment, the voices, the words - like a puzzle - are shards fit the whole.

I like it. *

Dianne: thank you, thank you, and thank you.

To your first query: little or less. The piece is entirely derivative, but because I offer it as "experimental", I prefer (for now) to say nothing about its provenance . . .

except to concede, in response to your second query and comment, that being representative of the century many of us emerged from, the structure I agree qualifies as "unnatural". The preceding century did become home to any number of one act, two act, and three act plays, though, and I was keen to pace the content with as many act divisions as possible or as seemed advisable.

Thank you again, Dianne, do stay well, and keep up all good work.

Dianne: not much quick about me, but I hasten to add that I don't think the piece to possess any oracular power. Obviously, some details pertain to its construction but probably only insignificantly. If the piece possesses any inherent dramatic tension that I myself cannot discern, I would likely attempt to account for it, though probably ineffectually.

Todd: thank you, thank you.

It was some fun putting together, and I could have spent better time with the material, but after two years of fiddling off and on, I finally grew impatient to "complete" it, such as it is.

Thank you again, Todd, do stay well, and keep up all good work.

(In afterthought mode, with coffee, I did add the scene descriptions.)

Darryl: thank you, thank you, and thank you.

I had much more material than I dared to use, so I am glad to hear that I (might have) edited what remained with sufficient judiciousness.

Thank you again, Darryl, do stay well, and keep up all good work.

Christopher: thank you, thank you, and thank you.

As one of Pirandello's exquisite creatures put it: "When a character is born, he acquires at once such an independence, even of his own author, that he can be imagined by everybody even in many other situations where the author never dreamed of placing him . . ." Naturally, I discovered this quotation only after the fact.

Thank you again, Christopher, do stay well, and keep up all good work.

Amantine: thank you, thank you, thank you.

I did recently acquire Pirandello's play, but also his novel One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand, which I've read first. Glad to've finally discovered him.

Otherwise, I guess, yes, a pastiche of odd 20th cent. ends: if the thematic thread began running through Pirandello, then on through Ionesco to Beckett, since it was their century maybe more than ours, who straddle that one and this one.

Thank you again, Amantine, do stay well, and keep up all good work.

Sam: thank you, thank you, and thank you.

Fractured days, fractured times, for sure: so, fractured prose, such as it is.

(The arc of Pirandello > Ionesco > Beckett strikes me more and more as a clean clear line through the previous century, with economy and substance.)

Some shards and pieces are missing inevitably and intentionally, but I am glad to continue to learn that this concoction holds together, however fragile.

Thank you as ever, Sam, do stay well, and keep up all good work.