Source of book: I own this.
I am a huge fan of the Library of America project. Founded as a non-profit in 1982, the Library of America was a longstanding dream of Edmund Wilson, who, before his death, did much to lay the foundation for the project.
The goal is to preserve essential American literature, particularly works that have gone out of print or are otherwise difficult to find. Major funding initially came from the National Endowment for the Humanities - one of the Federal agencies that the Republican Party has long desired to eliminate, because anything that supports public culture but doesn’t make billions for rich people is seen as waste to them.
Over the years, I have collected over 100 volumes for my own library, starting with the very first one, the complete poems of Robert Frost my wife gave me as a present early in our marriage.
While I mostly look for used copies at bookstores or library sales, there are some that I choose to buy new when they come out, because I want to encourage their publication. These are the ones that may not sell well either because the authors are more obscure (although of interest to me) or because the authors are female or people of color. Given the ongoing war on diversity, equity, and inclusion, these are the voices targeted by the current white male supremacist regime. I want to do my part to support these voices both with my money and with my time in reading and writing about them.
This book recently came out and I made sure to purchase it. The pre-order discount was an additional sweetener, of course.
Adrienne Kennedy is still alive, believe it or not, in her 90s and still writing. She started her career as a playwright during the 1960s, as part of a movement toward surrealism, with short plays that lacked a plot, and instead focused on imagery and metaphor and symbolism.
Unlike most African-American writers of the time, who were focusing on realism, she went the opposite direction, with the use of historical figures, animal-human hybrids, bizarre situations, and creative use of lighting and sound.
Since most of her works are short, one act dramas, anywhere from fifteen pages down to five pages long, I decided to read a few of them. I ended up settling on four. I will discuss them in the order they appear in the book. Which is also the order in which I read them.
The Tiger and the Tomboy
This play is arguably the most conventional, in that it has a plot and what is essentially a comedic story of young love. I say comedic not primarily because it is humorous - there is some humor, but that is not the focus - but because it follows the usual comic plot. The young lovers wish to be together, but misunderstandings keep them apart, until all is revealed and they can reconcile.
Charles “Ty” Tyler and Sandra Stillwell are the young lovers, the tiger and the tomboy, respectively. They have known each other since childhood, and are deeply in love. But they cannot bring themselves to say so to each other. In addition, Sandra would love to be courted in a romantic manner, and Ty would like Sandra to dress feminine for the dance. But of course, they misunderstand each other when they try to talk about it.
In this case, what allows them to come to the truth is their alter-egos. Sandra has created a fictional version of Ty in her mind, while Ty has created a fictional version of Sandra. In conversing with the other’s alter egos, they are led to the truth, and we have a sappy love scene at the end.
This use of alter egos, multiple versions of each character, will become even more pronounced in the later plays.
I wrote down one line from each play - they are short enough that one can perhaps capture something of the essence.
Tyrone (Ty’s alter ego): My name is Tyrone
Sandra: Where did you come from?
Tyrone: You created me.
Sandra: Created you?
Tyrone: You wanted to tell me…how you feel about Charles Tyler…you wanted to tell me about the secret you want to tell him…tonight.
Through the use of these alter egos, the couple are able to “practice” what they want to say, and eventually come to an understanding of each other.
Funnyhouse of a Negro
This is Kennedy’s best known play, and its mood is thoroughly different from The Tiger and the Tomboy.
Nearly the entire play takes place inside the main character’s head. Sarah is the product of a mixed-race relationship. She hates her black father (who may or may not have committed suicide) and idolizes her white mother (who has been committed to an insane asylum.)
Sarah has alter egos of the Dutchess of Hapsburg, Queen Victoria, Jesus, and Patrice Lumumba. Which, well, that’s pretty trippy already. Plus, there is the constant loss of hair experienced by the characters, people carrying severed heads around, and just a lot of surreal imagery.
Masks, ravens flying around, constant knocking, and a very non-linear plot - this is very close to Samuel Beckett territory - and he was indeed one of Kennedy’s influences.
The theme of the play is the tension of being biracial, and torn between one’s white side and one’s black side. I chose this as the key line:
Victoria always wants me to tell her of whiteness. She wants me to tell her of a royal world where everything and everyone is white and there are no unfortunate black ones. For we of royal blood know, black is evil and has been from the beginning.
This dichotomy also runs through the plot, such as it is. Did Sarah’s father kill himself? Or is he living and working in academia, oblivious to the pain of his daughter? (In Sarah’s mind, she has killed him - symbolic of her wishing to kill the blackness in herself.)
Was Sarah’s conception consensual yet regrettable? Or was it a rape? This question and others are never definitively answered. Sarah’s perspective is central, and yet we know her to be an unreliable narrator of her own life.
It’s definitely an interesting play, and would be fascinating to see live. (Although probably also challenging to stage.) One of the interesting devices is the use of “whiteface” - black actors painting their faces to portray stereotypically white historical figures.
The Owl Answers
This play addresses the experience of being biracial, but with the genders swapped. Here, Clara’s father is “the richest white man in town” while her mother was his cook.
If anything, this play is even more surreal and symbolic than the others. The setting is mostly a subway car in New York City, but it also has scenes that are somehow at the Tower of London, a Harlem hotel room, and St. Peter’s - while still being in the subway car.
Clara is described as “She, who is Clara Passmore, who is the Virgin Mary, who is the Bastard, who is the Owl.” Her parents are likewise split into multiple characters.
Oh, and Shakespeare, Chaucer, and William the Conqueror make appearances, as does a bird with multiple identities.
It’s quite a trip. The plot revolves around Clara imagining she is trying to get her father buried at Westminster Abbey, but nobody believes she, a black girl, could be related to a white man.
The play was intended as a companion to Funnyhouse of a Negro, but the two are usually performed with other plays, not each other.
I suspect part of the reason is that staging either of them would be a nightmare, due to the complex sets required, and the special effects that are called for. Some have even questioned if Kennedy even expected The Owl Answers to be actually staged, or if it was more intended to be read and imagined.
A fun musical note is that whenever Clara’s experience is at its most emotional, she is supposed to hear music. And not just music, but a very specific bit of music: Haydn’s Horn Concerto in D, 3rd movement. I am trying to remember if we performed this back when I was in the Bakersfield College orchestra years ago. We had a great young horn player, who is now a professional back east and remains a good friend. I know we did the Weber, but I feel like we did Haydn too.
The line that stands out for me from this play is this one:
Bastard’s Black Mother (one of the manifestations of Clara’s mother): Clara, you were conceived by your Goddam Father who was the Richest White Man in the Town and somebody that cooked for him. That’s why you’re an owl. (Laughs.) That’s why when I see you, Mary, I cry. I cry when I see Marys, cry for their deaths.
There is a bit of a challenge here: remember that the Virgin Mary is a manifestation of Clara, as is the Bastard. And the Owl. And exactly why Clara’s ancestry makes her an owl is never explained.
This was probably my favorite of the plays, just because of how weird it is, and also the way it reveals truths about the role of race in society by nibbling around the edges.
A Lesson in Dead Language
This is the shortest of the plays, and, while it does touch on racial issues, it is primarily about gender.
A white dog (probably representing white male authority) is teaching Latin to a class of all black female students. They are studying the assassination of Julius Caesar.
The dog condemns the students for the death of Caesar, because they are stand-ins for Calpurnia, who failed to stop him from going to the Senate that day.
As they stand, we see they have bloodstains on their backs - from their menstruation. From there, the play circles around and around the guilt, the becoming women, and a game involving lemons and a white dog on the green grass in childhood.
The central theme of this play is definitely menarche, becoming a woman, and inheriting the social guilt that is heaped on women simply for being female. Calpurnia, in the distance, envisions the collapse of the tower representing white patriarchy at the end.
The language here, like in many plays of its era, is repetitive and cyclic, with the same phrases and ideas recurring throughout, building images upon images, creating a structure of meaning rather than a plot. It is a lot for a mere five pages of script. Here is one of the recurring bits about the game.
Pupil: I bleed, Teacher, I bleed. It started when my white dog died. It was a charming little white dog. He ran beside me in the sun when I played a game with lemons on the green grass. And it started when I became a woman.
Pupils: Dear Caesar played a game of lemons in the sun on the green grass and my white dog ran beside.
This volume contains a few dozen of Kennedy’s plays, some adaptations (including of Greek tragedies), fiction, and other writings. I look forward to exploring more of her works in the future. It would be fascinating if I could experience live performance of her plays - I will have to keep my eyes open.
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