Kate Mulley

I spent last night on Governors Island volunteering at the New Island Festival. It’s a festival of Dutch artists and theatre practitioners and lots and lots of beer. I came late to the notion of visiting Governors Island after reading an article in the New Yorker about the “future of the island” and then a week or so later I found out about this festival. As someone with a Dutch middle name, I decided I should volunteer to spend some time with my compatriots. While I wasn’t able to see any of the theater last night, the music and dance pieces that I caught glimpses of were delightfully continental.

One of my goals for the year is to seek out the international performances that come to New York and this seemed like a cool way to do that, get free pancakes and beer and see this quirky little island between Manhattan and Long Island.

I’ve just returned from a week of theatre and coffee/lunch dates in London. I did just miss the openings of some very exciting looking shows, but got to see some fun things and appreciate the difference between theater in New York and theatre in London. On the whole I was skeptical to return to London so soon after I moved to New York, but once I headed out to Shepherd’s Bush for tea and a frantic trip to the National with my former colleagues at NHB it felt like I had never left (even though they have a stunning new refurb).

So, first up was a Platform at the National with Richard Eyre. He has a new book of interviews with “theatre people” called Talking Theatre and was interviewed by Susannah Clapp (Observer theatre critic) for the platform. Was quite fun to hear from him, after being around the offices during the editing process. I’ve brought a copy home with me, and can’t wait to read some of the interviews. It’s a real range of theatre artists from the twentieth century.

Friday night was a trip to the Southwark Playhouse to see Home, a “happening” by Tangled Feet, directed by my friend Nathan. Most of their performances of the show have been spontaneous and outdoors, so it was interesting to see how it worked in the cavernous space of the Southwark. As a “theatrical tourist” I found it quite fascinating. With very little dialogue and 6 actors using igloo tents to represent their houses, I found myself wrapped up in the music and the movement, but occasionally looking for a storyline. Since it dealt with what we consider “home” and I was in the second day of a trip to my former home, it definitely rang true for me.

Sunday afternoon I took an annual(ish) trip to the Globe to see Troilus and Cressida. It’s a play I’ve seen before and read, but I never really remember (maybe because it’s one of Shakespeare’s “problem plays”). An actor I quite like was playing Achilles, so I bought tickets despite the middling reviews. So my lowish expectations were exceeded by the fantastic design (lots of attractive men in awesome skirts), strong ensemble acting and, of course, Achilles didn’t disappoint (he spent the majority of the play loafing around wearing a kimono and kohl-enhanced eyes, brilliant). It’s a very funny play and trying to remember who all the Greeks and Trojans were took me back to my freshman Humanities seminar and a fantastic lecture about Patroclus and Achilles. I was also convinced halfway through the play that Keira Knightley was there incognito wearing a jaunty cap, which made it seem all the better. It closes this weekend, so catch it soon, if you’re interested!

Finally, last night, I saw The Pitmen Painters. The first thought I had when the show began was how on earth Broadway audiences are going to understand what the characters are saying. There are lots of thick Northern accents in the play, so it might be difficult (after two and a half years, I have still had some trouble). But the play is ultimately about class struggles in England, the role of the artist in society and the nuances of patronage. I found it very well-acted and well-crafted, but for me, it ultimately fell short of brilliance by being a play about a new subject matter, but not really doing anything new with it. Very entertaining though. It’s a bit like a Northern History Boys with old men instead of Dominic Cooper et al. And I discovered (of course, after I move out of the country) that you can get half price tickets at the National an hour before the show starts. I think in the past I never wanted to chance it, but it’s a pretty great deal.

To cap off the weekend, I watched Easy Virtue on the plane. Very cute, and actually still a little relevant for Americans abroad. I love Noel Coward. I know he’s a little out-dated, but seriously, so clever.

As for things in New York, I’m seeing Hamlet next Tuesday, Superior Donuts next week (I think) and will be volunteering at the New Island Festival (a Dutch cultural extravaganza on Governors’ Island), so I’m throwing myself at New York culture with wreckless abandon.

I’ve been archiving a collection of used and rare children’s books this week and it’s been such an interesting experience. When I was an archival assistant at Dartmouth, I cataloged the Pilobolus archives for a couple of months and was so fascinated by the development of the company from a group of Dartmouth undergrads to an international sensation. I’ve always had a fondness for dance, despite never being great at it (good, but definitely not great). And seeing what they did with their bodies to create art was pretty cool. Children’s books are a completely different story though (pun only slightly intended). Some of these are books that I loved when I was growing up, others I have never heard of, but they all have made me think about what makes good children’s literature and why it’s so important.

The first book I ever read was Dr Suess’ Hop on Pop. Appropriate that it would be a Dr Suess book and I would end up at Dartmouth 15 years later, the land of Suess pride. I quickly graduated to more difficult fare and was constantly pushing myself to read more challenging books. Remember bragging about chapter books? Sometimes I think things haven’t changed. Reading, say, The Savage Detectives now is like reading The Mixed-up Files of Mrs Basil E Frankweiler when you were a bit too young for it. Part of the appeal is what you look like reading it in public (says the girl who read The Castle before driver’s ed so no one would talk to me). And then it’s also good to have an engaging story, characters you understand/relate to, etc.

When we were assigned to write children’s plays during my MA, we made a list of characteristics that children’s books should have. My most important thing was talking animals. I loved books with talking animals. I’ve been poring over William Steig books recently and my favorite bio of his says “This is only the third book he’s written with human characters.” What is it about talking animals that seems so appealing to children? Is it like reading fantasy, where things aren’t exactly the way our world is, but we understand the rules that they follow? Children’s books also tend to have morals, (if you love the weird looking animal, it will turn out to be your missing husband) and lessons (one fish two fish red fish blue fish). It’s another way for kids to understand the guidelines of society. It makes me think of Matilda who only really understands the world around her through the books she reads because there’s no other sense of normalcy. And then she runs away with her teacher, which I’m sure would cause some kind of cable news scandal today.

Combine all this contact with children’s lit with a trip home for Labor Day weekend and there’s been a lot of nostalgia floating around. Finding old dance costumes, letters from older, cooler friends, and, of course, books I read as a kid. So maybe my next play will be for young audiences. Or maybe I’ll start writing young adult fiction. There’s definitely a market for it!