Winner of the Whiting Award for Drama -- a poetic election-season closet drama about climate catastrophe, gender, and the Internet. Joan of Arkansas is an election-season closet drama about climate catastrophe, divine gender expression, the instructions of angels, and heavenly revelation relayed via viral video. Fifteen-year-old Joan has been tasked by God (They/Them) to ensure that Charles VII (R-Arkansas) adopts radical climate policy and wins his bid as the Lord's candidate to become the president of the United States. Arkansas is flooding, the West is burning, and borders are "Heaven or / internet--it's / hard to be / good." Poetry. Drama. Hybrid.
Can't fathom all the raves for this - I thought it very amateurish and didn't coalesce into anything memorable. I found out about it when it was nominated for Best LGTBQ+ Drama at the annual Lambda Awards this year, and I'm always interested in and try to read all the nominees.
The problem here is that it really ISN'T a viable play: it contains 4 sections - the first is a very slight, short tone poem about the origin of the Petit Jean mountains in Arkansas, notable only for the artistic arrangement of the words on the page.
The 2nd part IS a script, that is at least written in play format, about a non-binary modern-day Joan trying to convince a GOP candidate for Pres. to let her offer her internet followers' support in exchange for him championing climate change. It would take at most 45 minutes to perform, but there is nothing in it really WORTH inflicting on an audience, and it doesn't come to much of a conclusion.
Then there is a section containing translated excerpts (by someone else) from the original Joan's trials, highlighting all the times she refused to change from her male attire to female clothing. Finally, there is a 20-page short story written from the perspective of one of Joan's classmates who has a crush on her, that likewise is jejune and inconclusive.
The idea of a non-binary Joan would be interesting -except that it was already done to much better fruition by Charlie Josephine in the play I, JOAN.
"O great cloud of witnesses! Heaven or internet it's hard to be good"
A truly remarkable hybrid work of poetry, drama, and prose that reimagines the medieval heroine Joan of Arc as a gender-nonconforming teen slash viral content creator in a present-day election season who's been tasked by God with the impossible: getting Governor Charles VII (R, Arkansas) elected president under a radical position: "protection of God's earth / and Their people through / a platform of oil and coal / divestment, open borders, / sanctuary for all, and full / reparations of land and / goods." The drama that unfolds includes backwoods conferences with angels, a heartwarming shopping trip with Joan's park ranger mom, a devastating but unsurprising backstabbing, and a tender romance filled with lines like "Maybe this was faith: the substance of things you didn't even know to hope for" and "only with love did it feel safe to be singled-out." Upon finishing this the first time, I almost immediately started again from the beginning because the text is so rich. An inventive but accessible work from a Whiting Award Winner (now Milo Wipperman), and I can't wait to see what they do next.
One final stanza to close with: "The Angels said / this world is / God's own / narcissistic wound / but I think They were joking / about the trauma / of Creation."
THIS BOOK IS SO AMAZING AND STRANGE! Part tour, part play, part blackout poetry, part prose???? Joan of Arkansas is a nonbinary teenager who rly wants to feels GODS HOT GAZE but also wants to save the planet from the Warmth. Queer climate catastrophe strangeness. Stage directions written in verse/intended to be read on the page was something I never knew I needed.
I SPOTTED THIS on the shelves at North Figueroa Bookshop (worth a visit when you are in Los Angeles) and plucked it out, fanboy of La Pucelle that I am. I turned it over to read the back cover and saw a blurb from…Cole Swensen! Ring that item up!
When asked for a contemporary figure comparable to Joan, I usually mention Greta Thunberg. Addressing the U.N. Is not quite the same thing as leading an army, but the two young women had to overcome the same kind of prejudiced resistance—why should we listen to a little thing like you?—and did so through moral clarity and sheer persistence. Wippermann’s take on Joan goes along similar lines, setting her story in the present-day United States and making her a climate activist.
The book begins with “The Legend of Petit Jean,” for whom a state park in Arkansas is named. Christened Adrienne Dumont, Petit Jean dressed as a male and got taken on as a cabin boy on a French ship to North America in the 18th century. He, she, or they died and was buried in Arkansas before Arkansas was Arkansas or the United States was the United States, giving his, her, or their name to a nearby mountain and the park established much later.
Wippermann’s Joan hails from Arkansas, and in the text’s first main section, “Joan of Arkansas,” written in dramatic form, her voices tell her she must persuade a politician from her state—Charles VII (ha!)—to run on a platform of combating climate change. He does, he wins, then immediately becomes the tool of energy interests.
In a brilliant move, Wippermann’s next section is a kind of erasure poem carved out of the transcript of the original Joan’s trial for heresy. This is an audacious leap, but it makes the point that her Joan would get the same kind of vilifying pushback that Thunberg got from the people whose profits she endangered, and this campaign would be analogous to Joan’s show trial and martyrdom.
Drama, poetry, and in the concluding section, “The Dove,” fiction—a short story written from the point of view of a devoted and loving friend of Joan’s named…Adrienne. (Perfect.) A wildfire breaks out, as is becoming increasingly common, and (spoiler alert) Joan dies fighting it, but Adrienne sees a dove fly out of the fire…just as a witness saw one fly up as the original Joan was burned at the stake in Rouen.
Joan has an inspired a multitude of well-meant but hokey tributes and a few that are actually worthy of her. Wippermann’s Joan of Arkansas belongs in that smaller and more distinguished company.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This book is extraordinary. Wippermann has written a non-binary exploration of Jeanne d'Arc that crosses paths with Petit Jean (aka Adrienne Dumont), a young colonizer after whom Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas is named. But this is also a remarkable retelling of Jeanne d'Arc in the present day, addressing the effects of the anthropocene, the destructive politics of the U.S. Republican party to the land and the people of the United States. And fire... it's about fire.
Wippermann rethinks Joan of Arc as a teenaged firefighter bravely facing the flames of destruction wrought by old men, cloaking their ignorance in religion.
Wonderfully, and generously, Wippermann also imagines Joan as loved and loving, not only the Messenger of the god but also touching the lives of others and allowing herself to be touched by them. It is fair (and partially tongue in cheek, perhaps), to call this a closet drama, but Wippermann's Joan of Arkansas is a play, a collection of excerpts from the trial of Jeanne d'Arc, a tour of a state park in Arkansas, and a prose story of love and conflagration.