It's Ottawa in the 1920s, pre-legalized birth control. Sophie, a young working-class girl, falls madly in love with and marries a stable-hand named Jonny. After two difficult childbirths, doctors tell Sophie she shouldn't have any more children, but don't tell her how to prevent it. When Sophie inevitably becomes pregnant again, she faces a grim dilemma.
In an unflinching look at love, sex, and fertility, and inspired by real stories of mothers during the Canadian birth-control movement of the early twentieth century, one of Canada's most celebrated playwrights vividly recreates a couple's struggles with reproduction.
A stirring and graphic read. Would recommend this as a strong character-based representation of the timlessness of issues relating to sex, love, and fertility.
I listened to an audio version of this and was lost to the world until the end. The play is expertly crafted, not a superfluous word of dialogue is spoken, and the story advances itself through the development of the characters. Stirring, moving, haunting, a glimpse into early Canadian birth control history, without ever coming across pedantic. Please read, listen to or go see (when the pandemic is over.)
What a Young Wife Ought to Know is a brilliant play that explores reproductive healthcare, contraception, and abortion for the working class in 1920s Ottawa. Sophie is a compelling character as she pleads with the audience for understanding and for women to relate to her, but the other characters are just as compelling alongside her in this small cast (three characters appear on stage total). It's very enlightening, revealing the truth of what it was like for working class immigrant families to be unable to prevent children despite the desperate want to, but this also makes for a moving and compelling story outside of its profound statement on reproductive rights.
This was my first time reading any of Moscovitch's works, but I definitely would like to check some of her other stuff out after this. It's definitely among my favourites, and I would recommend it for sure.
Hannah Moscovitch's three-hander is a fascinating look at the relationship between reproductive freedom and poverty. After her sister dies from a botched abortion, early 20th-century Irish immigrant Sophie faces her own problems. Her doctor tells her she can't have any more children, but though he's clearly practicing birth control can offer her no solution other than abstinence, because society doesn't want to lose its pool of unskilled labor. The play very generously focuses on Sophie and her husband as they deal with the impossible demands of an inhuman culture.
- very visceral - i wish there were more monologues - definitely showed the struggle before birth control - and now it rlly touches on access to birth control and the agency that women should have over their bodies - although Jonny was a loving husband, he couldn’t pity/empathize like Sophie did the paper boy.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A truly remarkable work that explores abortion and contraception in Canadian working classes. Never a better time to read it as Judge RBG has passed away and RvW is on the brink of disappearing. Almost a timeless work and a true work of art.
Ottawa in the 1920s: Sophie is happy enough with her lot as wife and mother, even if money is tight and parenting is tiring. But the doctor has told her that it's not safe for her to have more children—and with Sophie's sister dead young, Sophie is inclined to take such warnings seriously. But there's no legal, or socially acceptable, solution for this other than to not go to bed with her husband in the first place.
It's a depressing piece but frankly really timely. Jonny loves Sophie and wants her to be safe and healthy—but he also wants a big family, and he also wants sex, and he also wants basic human touch. As does Sophie (well, maybe not the big family, not on a laborer's wages). And there's just never going to be a good answer.
This is probably a super interesting play to stage—you could do it with a very minimal set, but it could also be fully immersive. No real surprises (in fact, there's one thing that Sophie intentionally makes clear to the audience early on that could have been used as a shock piece but wasn't, which I appreciate), just a direct story about the consequences of limited health care—and, specifically, reproductive care—availability.
i don’t remember too terribly much about this other than the fact that when i was reading it (by myself, alone, out loud) i did a very heavy and poorly executed canadian accent. so that was fun.