World & I Online Magazine  
World & I School | World & I Homeschool | World & I College | World & I Library
 Username:   Password:     Subscribe   Register               About Us | Contact Us | FAQs
18-Year Archive Peoples of the World Book Review Worldwide Folktales Fathers of Faith
Search  
Sort by: Results Listed:
Date Range:    Advanced Search

Online Magazine
 
  Current Issue
Editorial
Current Issue
The Arts
Life
Natural Science
Culture
Book World
Modern Thought
  Resources
18-Year Archive
American Waves
Book Reviews
Ceremonies/Festivities
Eye on the High Court
Fathers of Faith
Footsteps of Lincoln
Millennial Moments
Peoples of the World
Profiles in Character
Teacher's Guide
Traveling the Globe
Worldwide Folktales
Writers and Writing

Working-class Tension


Article # : 15216 

Section : THE ARTS
Issue Date : 8 / 1989  2,895 Words
Author : Herb Greer
Herb Greer is an American writer and playwright who lives in Britain and on the Continent.

       It is often difficult to sit through a new play at London's National Theatre. The proceedings are usually dominated by red-eyed intensity, a pose of great importance that makes the performance and its content hard to swallow (e.g., David Hare and Harold Pinter); in other words, the shower of grit from axes being ground thickens the atmosphere and tends to obscure the innocent view of what is happening onstage. The subsidized playwright is seldom content with being a playwright. He or she must also assume the role of mama pelican, retching up a gutful of half-digested, rather stale food for thought, which is then crammed down the collective throat of an eagerly gaping audience.
       
        Battering Ram
       
        This grim proceeding has become a kind of rule on the South Bank of the Thames. When exceptions do turn up, the effect is slightly numbing at first. One sits in the stalls, waiting for the sermon or the MEANING to jump out of the play (or at least the production) like a pantomime demon king bursting up through a smoke-blurred trapdoor. Slowly, very slowly, it dawns upon the honest spectator that there will be no battering ram of enlightenment. One is watching a play, that is all. In the case of The March on Russia it happened to be quite a good play, much better for being modest, compassionate, and calm, with all the assurance of a writer who knows his own limitations and does not try to tell the audience what theirs are.
       
        David Storey is rather special among the writers of his generation (he was born in 1933). About thirty years ago, when "working-class" writers were more or less literally the rage in Britain, he was one of the very few who really were working-class. (Others, like John Osborne, tended to be either petitbourgeois or a species of university-educated proto-yuppie.) Storey is a Yorkshireman, the third son of a miner. He was educated first at a grammar school, then at the famous Slade School of Fine Art in London. He was a professional athlete, a teacher, and a laborer before he became a full-time (and eventually prizewinning) writer. His first success was a novel, This Sporting Life, filmed in 1960 by the director Lindsay Anderson, beginning a partnership that in time moved into the theater. Anderson has directed eight of Storey's plays, and The March on Russia is their latest collaboration.
       
        There is a continuous undertone in Storey's writing, both novels and plays, of the tension between class-bound elders of the northern English working-class family and their children, who after the war began to pull away
... Read Full Article


Look for this article in Ask.com

Copyright © 2004 The World & I. All rights reserved. Terms of Use | Privacy Policy