The Plays of Margaret Drabble: A Critical Edition

Award-winning British novelist Margaret Drabble is renowned for her fiction, stories that gave voice to the new woman of the 1960s and continue to illuminate the conflicting roles of women in the twenty-first century. Drabble’s long affiliation with the theatrical world also inspired her to experiment with
the dramatic form. She wrote two plays—one for television, Laura (1964), and one for the stage, Bird of Paradise (1969). Fernández’s penetrating new critical edition makes both plays available for the first time, giving Drabble fans a new vantage point from which to understand her work. In Laura and Bird of Paradise, Drabble mines the familiar territory of social class, domestic life, and questions of destiny, which have been the hallmark of her writing. Asin her novels, both plays reveal a deep curiosity about the world and a piercing commentary on the social issues of her time. The volume’s introduction and accompanying critical essays give valuable insight into the plays’ historical and social context, and explore the artistic solutions that an accomplished
author of fiction found when writing for the stage. Offering a fascinating complement to Drabble’s prodigious oeuvre, this volume also provides a glimpse into a specific period in English letters, one that shaped an influential generation of writers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Syracuse University Press
• Release date: Jan 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780815654568

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Introduction

JOSÉ FRANCISCO FERNÁNDEZ

The publication of two plays, one for television, Laura (1964), and one for the stage, Bird of Paradise (1969), by a novelist of the stature of Margaret Drabble (1939–) amounts to more than a mere question of literary curiosity. From a variety of perspectives—biographical, social, historical, cultural—these pieces offer us a fine opportunity to reassess a specific period in English letters, the 1960s, one that shaped the coming of age of an influential generation, including Drabble herself.

The publication of these plays has been motivated by two main concerns: the consideration of Drabble as the social writer par excellence of her generation and the presence in her work of an artistic impulse that has always been open to evolution and transformation. In the former case, it is interesting to note that in her plays Drabble never abandons her curiosity about the world that surrounds her, offering at all times a questioning vision of the social issues of her time. In this sense, Laura and Bird of Paradise can be read as historical documents that testify to the situation of British women in the 1960s. In the case of the latter, it is of great interest to observe the artistic solutions that an accomplished author of fictional prose found when faced with the challenges of a different medium. Drabble is seen here adapting her ideas and narrative techniques to the technical requirements of theater and TV production. It is interesting to learn which playwrights she admires, the models she follows, and how she conforms to yet also deviates from expectations in terms of the kind of plays that novelists typically produce under commission.

This volume, which should be considered a complement to the understanding of Drabble’s whole literary production, is presented here in a critical edition because the rich texture of the plays invites a theoretical treatment, including both a broad contextualization and a discussion of the main topics in them. Contrary to Drabble’s own disparaging comments on her work for the theater, her plays are significant pieces, and their intrinsic merit should be stressed. In the case of Laura, kitchen-sink drama rarely presents as many concerns as those contained in Drabble’s single play for television. In addition, the sharp dialogues and the complex personality of the protagonist manage to transcend the naturalistic setting of this theatrical form. Bird of Paradise, her only drama for the stage, is equally challenging for the juxtaposition of different planes and a swift sense of construction, as if the pace of novelistic narration informed the concatenation of events in the play. These works by Drabble certainly get their times right, so that the forces and interests of a particular period of British history are interwoven with the settings, characters, and dialogues in a highly distinctive way. One can detect between the lines the changes of attitudes on morality, women’s rights, social welfare, sexuality, fashion, and so on that the 1960s represented (to be consolidated in British law through legislation on abortion, contraception, divorce, equal pay, the legalization of homosexuality, the relaxing of censorship). Despite its many shortcomings, Britain’s welfare state fostered the dream of a better society and the questioning of traditional values. In Laura and Bird of Paradise, Drabble continued with the discussion of ethical issues that features so prominently in her fiction, but from a different perspective. The opportunity to explore the combination of Drabble’s theories of social justice with the demands of new media, as proposed in the present project, is ample compensation for the fact that theatrical writing played a minor role in her oeuvre, which means that her plays can indeed provide useful insights into the intellectual and social concerns of postwar theater for students and scholars of British drama.

The importance of recovering the typescripts of Drabble’s plays became evident after the publication of her short stories, A Day in the Life of a Smiling Woman (2011). It was seen at that point that in any consideration of the novelist’s production not only were the major narrative texts worth studying, but so were her forays into a number of other genres over more than fifty years of literary output. As we know, she has always been a regular contributor to the press, commenting on social issues of the moment, and has also written biographies and works of criticism. The publication of her short stories, then, began a process of bringing to light the multiform nature of her talent. The days when, in the words of Valerie Grosvenor Myer, in Britain she won awards, but it was not the fashion to take her seriously (1991, 11) had by now been left behind. In her pioneering study, Grosvenor Myer states that her main intention was to achieve recognition for Drabble as a serious writer . . . with the gifts of social observation, satiric wit, compassion and coherent metaphysic (1991, 11). Among other features, Grosvenor Myer identifies in Drabble a consistent view of the human condition and a capacity for moral analysis. These facets of her writing are well known, but the publication of her stories demonstrates how her writings are integrated into a larger scheme: in some of the pieces, the author is seen tying up the knots that had been left loose in the novels; also evident is the fact that major characters in her large-scale fiction had enjoyed a previous existence in the workshop of the short story. The major and minor texts, then, intertwine coherently, as can be seen in Drabble’s particular interest in the lives of especially privileged characters. A recurrent concern for Drabble has been the study of the contradictions inherent in those who are different because they have talent, looks, intelligence, health, esteem, and money and, feeling guilty, must prove worth by living difficult, complicated lives (Veach Sadler 1986, 2). Through Laura and Bird of Paradise, we can hear how the protagonists of both plays—Laura and Sophy, respectively, both members of that privileged group to different degrees—describe and explain themselves.

Curiously enough, the publication of Drabble’s short stories reveals an author for whom sensual pleasures are not foreign, something also seen in Bird of Paradise. A focus on her puritanical conscience has sometimes eclipsed the fact that a hidden part of her work basks in the textures and warmth of the human touch. It is true that her own education prevented her from expressing this kind of emotion, as she recalls in her memoir, The Pattern in the Carpet: There were some books on art in the school library, and I remember browsing through the paintings of Delacroix with an intense and presumably erotic emotion, but when I was discovered at this private occupation it was suggested to me that these works were ‘morbid’ (Drabble 2009, 163). However, an attentive reading will reveal that grace has a solid, physical base in Drabble’s work, something noticed by critics such as Margaret Morganroth Gullette, who claims that Drabble’s creativity is intimately connected with her love of beautiful transfigurations (1988, 87). Elaine Showalter also notes that in the stories there is the combination of stern feminist values with great sensuality and delight in beauty, including one’s own (2011). Drabble as an author enters this terrain with a controlled pulse, but the relish for a sensual life—as seen in her descriptions of nature, for example—is especially apparent when she works in a different genre. The presentation of the author’s plays for the theater and television, published for the first time in this edition by Syracuse University Press, thus seeks to deepen the exploration of the multiform venues of Margaret Drabble’s literary talent. This is an important point: the publication of these plays is not a matter of showing the author’s dabbling in playwriting as an anecdote or a rarity but rather an opportunity to discover and reveal new manifestations of a restless mind.

To help readers fully understand the origin and background of Drabble’s incursion into drama, the full, unabridged texts of the plays are accompanied in this edition by a biographical essay, one that notes the presence of the theater in her work and life from her early years as a writer until her latest novel. This brief biography is followed by two essays that provide contextualizations of the plays; the historical events in Britain during the 1960s as well as the ideological debates of the day, including legislation, inform the topics discussed in the works themselves. Next, an essay is devoted to an exploration of the links between the plays and Drabble’s early novels. Finally, two essays study the connection between the plays and the genres to which they belong: first, Bird of Paradise is analyzed in light of British postwar theater, and then Laura is examined in relation to the emergence of television in the same period.

When I approached Margaret Drabble with a proposal for the publication of her two plays, she gave her consent provided that the plays be included in an academic edition. She is aware that her work as a novelist is the most fundamental aspect of her writing, but she also acknowledges that the publication of her work for theater and television might provide new approaches for the interpretation of her narratives. I would like to express my gratitude to the team of scholars who have contributed to this volume for their enthusiasm, their patience, and their constructive criticism. The research on Drabble’s plays was supported by Lindisfarne research group and by the project CEI Patrimonio, both belonging to the University of Almería. Special thanks are owed to Roger Bridgman and John Bulmer for their generosity in providing the photographs that accompany this volume. I am also indebted to Suzanne E. Guiod for her valuable and extensive assistance with the editorial process. Finally, and above all, I gratefully acknowledge the support given by Margaret Drabble in sharing her memories of the theatrical world that she came to know as a young, unknown writer.

Works Cited

Drabble, Margaret. 2009. The Pattern in the Carpet: A Personal History with Jigsaws. London: Atlantic Books.

————. 2011. A Day in the Life of a Smiling Woman: The Collected Stories. Edited by José Francisco Fernández. London: Penguin.

Grosvenor Myer, Valerie. 1991. Margaret Drabble: A Reader’s Guide. London: Vision Press.

Morganroth Gullette, Margaret. 1988. Safe at Last in the Middle Years: The Invention of the Midlife Progress Novel. Berkeley: Univ. of California Press.

Showalter, Elaine. 2011. "A Day in the Life of a Smiling Woman by Margaret Drabble—Review." Guardian, June 30.

Veach Sadler, Lynn. 1986. Margaret Drabble. Boston: Twayne.

PART ONE

The Plays

Laura

Laura, featured as episode 2 of the series It’s a Woman’s World by Granada TV, was broadcast on September 11, 1964. This fifty-five-minute drama was directed by Claude Whatham and written by Margaret Drabble.

CAST

JACK AUSTIN, voice, radio announcer

TREVOR BANNISTER, milkman

PATRICIA ENGLAND, Laura

KENNETH FARRINGTON, Bill

CAROLINE MORTIMER, Caroline

DAPHNE OXENFORD, health visitor

JOHN REES, salesman

ACT ONE

Scene One

BEDROOM

Laura is looking at herself in her dressing-table mirror. She is in her dressing gown, her hair long and untidy. The radio is fading out on hymn music: she switches it off. She is twenty-two or -three: pretty but disheveled and exhausted looking. The room is a mess, though the furniture, etc., are quite good, middle class, slight avant-garde, modern. She picks up a comb and starts to tidy her hair, then gives up and drops the comb listlessly back onto the dressing table.

LAURA. Say not the struggle nought availeth. The labor and the wounds are vain. Though on what grounds I am not quite clear. Ten o’clock. That makes, let me see, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, four, five, six: another eight hours before I see a human face. Excluding the milkman and possibly the health visitor. (Looks at herself in the mirror, picks up comb again, speaks in tone of detached interest.) I say, Laura, you do look a fright. What on earth have you been doing with yourself recently? Why don’t you brighten yourself up a bit, eh? (Picks up nail file, starts to fiddle with her nails.) Ten to eleven, sit and look at myself in the mirror. Eleven to twelve, feed that baby. Twelve to one, think about what to eat for lunch. One to two, eat it. Two to three to four to five and so on and so on and so on. Wash those nappies. What about all those nappies? I can’t believe how many nappies for one small baby. No, of course you can’t. I didn’t expect you to. What a day. What a thrilling, original, morale-raising day you have in store. (She gets up and crosses to the unmade bed, lies down on it, yawns, shuts her eyes.) If only I could sleep. That would be something to do. Something really exciting to do. Bill? (Turning toward his empty place.) Bill, do you think we’ll ever sleep a night through again? (Sits up again, stands up, stares with loathing at unmade bed, as though a neighbor, addressing herself.) I say, Mrs. Stephens, don’t you ever make the bed? No, I can’t say I do, actually, there doesn’t seem to be much point when all one does is get back in again and unmake it every night. In fact (sweetly, confidingly), I’ll tell you something, there doesn’t seem to me to be very much point in anything, to tell you the truth. (Abruptly, changing mood.) Anyway, mind your own bloody business. (Pauses to herself, in normal voice.) Better go and have a cup of coffee. Better have some breakfast. Think of the baby. Can’t starve myself to death, can I?

CUT TO: LANDING.

LAURA. I’m telling you one thing though, Laura. No chocolate. No chocolate at all today, or you’ll never never never get your figure back. Did you hear me?

CUT TO: KITCHEN.

LAURA. If you go near that bar of chocolate in that cupboard, I shall write you off completely. (Gets some coffee out plus milk.) I’ll never speak to you again. Get it? I’m serious, I really mean it. Talking to yourself, that’s the first sign of madness. Though I’d like to know who else I’m supposed to talk to. Yes, well, as I was saying in my latest lecture, this week we shall consider defining the word labor. Whereas work produces an end product, labor has no end. Like beds. I find I rather object to labor. The labor and the wounds are vain. Or not vain, as the poet said. Another kind of labor of which I have had recent and painful experience is the kind associated with childbirth. One couldn’t deny that sort had an end product, could one? (The milk boils over: she drops the game instantly, and as she grabs the saucepan, the phone rings. She goes to answer it in the living room, the pan still in her hand.)

CUT TO: LIVING ROOM

LAURA. Helloo. Parkway 6262.

CARO. Hello, could I speak to Laura Stephens, please?

LAURA. Speaking.

CARO. Laura, good heavens, Laura, that doesn’t sound a bit like you. How are you, darling?

LAURA. Just fine, darling. Who on earth’s that?

CARO. Don’t you know?

LAURA. No, I can’t say I do.

CARO. It’s me, it’s Caroline. Don’t say you’ve forgotten me.

LAURA. Good Lord no, of course not. I just didn’t recognize your voice, that’s all. After all this time. What on earth are you doing in this part of the world?

CARO. Well, believe it or not, I came here to attend my grandpa’s