Immeasurable legions of white clouds close rank
Leaving a clear blue path the size of a fist
What wonder the heavens hold, we thank
Neither Buddhists nor Neo-Realists
Immeasurable legions of white clouds close rank
Leaving a clear blue path the size of a fist
What wonder the heavens hold, we thank
Neither Buddhists nor Neo-Realists
A man drowns in the desert.
Apple of my eye,
Fall down for me,
I know gravity,
The ink on my fingers,
Sent to me a memory-
We sat by failing cinders
With a sky full of wonder.
We told stories, made cleverly
About what you never see
It felt heavenly;
Maybe it’s just memory
But it’ll always be
Like the ink that lingers,
On my fingers
That I warmed by dying cinder-
Voluntary,
Like a glass of tea.
While reading, time passes quickly. Look at the clock while you think about it. Reading kills time and time kills people.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Lose something everyday. A set of keys, hours badly spent. In the time it takes for a bruise to heal, for hair to grey and for you to notice- it’s too late. Everything has passed just try not to miss the rest of the show.
A School for Scandal, Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s’ comedy of manners, is a surprisingly fast and entertaining read despite being about as old as the United States.
A comedy of manner is a form of entertainment that satirizes a social class using witty dialogue and stereotypical characters. It’s like most sitcoms we have today, except intelligent. Staying true to the characteristics of comedies of manner, you often know quite a bit about a character with just their names. All the Moses’s, Sneerwells, Snakes, and Surfaces induce giggle with every appearance. Things get serious soon enough though.
The story might not be rather original, or very important in a comedy of manners for that matter, but it is rather engaging. It took me about 2 hours to read the entire text; I’d wager that watching the play would be a much shorter and more entertaining affair. The language wasn’t very archaic either.
Now for the most important aspect of all comedies of manner- the wit. This play certainly has a lot of it. Sharp comment fly at characters with every plot point and keep the play humorous. The plays’ main concerns are integrity, libel, and of course scandal. The story and wit revolve around these matter and the nice people have happy ending and the bad ones have bad endings. It might sound simple but the wit is plentiful and the values delivered. This was unusual for that time; most comedies of manner had the ill-doers get away.
The message about scandal, libel, and rumor are still relevant in a world where Rupert Murdoch still publishes about a million tabloids a day.
Sheridan might have been writing a comedy whose humor may not translate too well with modern audiences with society being a lot more progressive and diverse. But if you know a little history about the rigid, wealth and decadent upper class of the 1800’s you’ll find the play very entertaining. If humor doesn’t seem to reveal itself, remember this is a satire and look for the wit and parody among the prudes on stage. There isn’t any central character to drive the play, because the upper class and their scandalous ways and disregard of propriety is the main focus. This is something that’ll either make the play a chore or refreshing.
There is a lot of antisemitism in the play. Although Moses is shown to be a kind man, that seems to be played as a aberration. This is something audiences should expect from plays of that era and from R.B Sheridan who has a reputation for making choice comments about women authors and the Irish. Audiences may also be surprised by the amount of affairs and sexual escapades that are hinted at in the play.
R.B Sheridan is a man worth know about. Any man who went from class dunce to dueler to play write is worth reading about.
If that doesn’t interest you the fact that Sheridan makes a scathing critic of the hypocrisy and prudishness of the upper class at a time when it was solidifying, and managed to be funny about it makes the play worth a watch or read.