Tom Stoppard · 224 pages
Rating: (1.7K votes)
“His radio plays include: If You’re Glad I’ll Be Frank, Albert’s Bridge (Italia Prize), Where Are They Now?, Artist Descending A Staircase, The Dog It Was That Died, In the Native State (Sony Award).”
“Tom Stoppard’s other work includes: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Jumpers, Travesties, Night and Day, After Magritte, The Real Thing, Enter A Free Man, Hapgood, Arcadia, Indian Ink (a stage adaptation of his own play, In the Native State) and The Invention of Love. Arcadia”
“also by the same author ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD THE REAL INSPECTOR HOUND ENTER A FREE MAN AFTER MAGRITTE JUMPERS TRAVESTIES DIRTY LINEN AND NEW-FOUND-LAND NIGHT AND DAY DOGG’S HAMLET, CAHOOT’S MACBETH ROUGH CROSSING and ON THE RAZZLE (adapted from Ferenc Molnár’s Play at the Castle and Johann Nestroy’s Einen Jux will er sich machen) THE REAL THING THE DOG IT WAS THAT DIED AND OTHER PLAYS SQUARING THE CIRCLE with EVERY GOOD BOY DESERVES FAVOUR and PROFESSIONAL FOUL HAPGOOD DALLIANCE AND UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY (a version of Arthur Schintzler’s Das weite Land) ARCADIA INDIAN INK (an adaptation of In the Native State) THE INVENTION OF LOVE”
“Screenplay ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD: THE FILM Radio Plays THE PLAYS FOR RADIO 1964–1983 IN THE NATIVE STATE Fiction LORD MALQUIST AND MR MOON”
“The Almost Free Theatre, the Fun Art Bus and the rest of them were phenomena of a decade which was simultaneously playful and desperately serious; and”
“After Magritte often serves as a companion piece to The Real Inspector Hound, which I think is appropriate in at least one way: neither play is about anything grander than itself. A”
“The ‘role of the theatre’ is much debated (by almost nobody, of course), but the thing defines itself in practice first and foremost as a recreation. This seems satisfactory. TOM STOPPARD 1993”
“Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d’etat by the second rank—troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket teams wiped out by marauding bands of twelfth men—I dream of champions chopped down by rabbit-punching sparring partners while eternal bridesmaids turn and rape the bridegrooms over the sausage rolls and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister’s Humber—comedians die on provincial stages, robbed of their feeds by mutely triumphant stooges— —and—march— —an army of assistants and deputies, the seconds-in-command, the runners-up, the right-handmen—storming the palace gates wherein the second son has already mounted the throne having committed regicide with a croquet-mallet—stand-ins”
“Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d’etat by the second rank—troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket teams wiped out by marauding bands of twelfth men—I dream of champions chopped down by rabbit-punching sparring partners while eternal bridesmaids turn and rape the bridegrooms over the sausage rolls and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister’s Humber—comedians die on provincial stages, robbed of their feeds by mutely triumphant stooges— —and—march— —an army of assistants and deputies, the seconds-in-command, the runners-up, the right-handmen—storming the palace gates wherein the second son has already mounted the throne having committed regicide with a croquet-mallet—stand-ins of the world stand up!—”
“getting away with murder must be quite easy provided that one’s motive is sufficiently inscrutable.”
“You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you.”
His eyes laser onto mine in a way that sends a shockwave to my core. Just like then, I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him. The idea of his touch makes my center clench with expectation.”
“Between the five of us we finished off a pot of coffee and two packs of cigarettes and fourteen bottles of beer and shared the dim awareness that a small but sturdy union had been formed.”
“Would that be dangerous, to not look while being looked at?”
“To everyone who gets me, thank you. To everyone who doesn't, thank you too. You give me the motivation to keep succeeding just to piss you off.”
“The look on Deathbringer’s face was so obvious — so real and sad — that Starflight had the weird experience of being able to see what his own expression must be every time he thought of Sunny.”
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