I read this to make time, to space out my reading of Cesar Aira's upcoming Five, compiling five 'novels,' of which only two may be considered novels whilst the other three short stories, as I have until May to finish it, and what a shame it'd be to complete it well before the time it's set to release--which isn't so much a problem, but I feel that the effect of a review is greater when it's nearer to the date of the book's arrival--anyhow, I was weighing out my options: a book of three of Henrik Ibsen's later plays, post-Ghosts, released by Oxford press; the Complete Plays of Sarah Kane, released by Methuen Drama (which I'd initially pushed aside to read Beckett's Endgame and Act Without Words a few years ago); or the Maids and Deathwatch by Jean Genet, alongside its preface penned by Jean-Paul Sartre; and while I believe this duo to be a lovely pair for anyone looking to get into Jean Genet's literature, I could only say that I should have opted for Sarah Kane's complete plays.
The Maids confused me somewhat at the opening, as a character called her sister by her own name rather than the given name of her sister, and her sister referred to her as Madame rather than her given name, but as I read, I realized they were roleplaying whilst the true Madame was absent from the scene, which I found to be playful, fun to read, and all the more human; there's not much more I could say about the play without spoiling it or giving away what it's like outside of its mockery of certain characters which could be interpreted as not just killing time but as playing with power dynamics--the dialogue was okay, at turns poetic, at other times just fine, though there were a few funny moments, to me, where one of the characters tells the other that their hands 'befoul the sink,' but apart from that, there wasn't much to be in awe about, it was simply your standard play: and any word about it being disturbing or 'transgressive' must've been commissioned or perhaps it was transgressive for its time, and that's something I'll touch on a little further in my review, because the time this play was written corresponds greatly with a real-world event that took France by storm only six or so years before; I rate the play an [81/100], a fair rating--and as for the ending, I thought it was lovely, lovely but predictable, and while I felt that I'd have went about the play in another way, I appreciate Genet's understanding of it being what it is, just a play, though a play inspired by something true--that's to say I champion realism to an extent, enough so that'd it'd reflect in my own hypothetical reworking of the Maids.
As for Deathwatch, I actually thought this one to be the lesser of both halves--the quality of its writing read as though it suffered from the recency of the Maids (not to mention the fact that Deathwatch was written first chronologically [I assume Genet kicked into gear after his experience writing Deathwatch]), and the setting was less compelling: not because it lacked the fancy-shmancy, rococo-lace French decor that was present in the Madame's department in the Maids, but because, with Genet's experience having been detained throughout his life, I thought there'd be more to it, not more 'grit,' because that's what you'd expect, but something more telling of his several-years-in-length experiences, something more honest--I've read excerpts of Our Lady of the Flowers: where was that at? as in, how could he have written that prior to writing this?--after all, a few years after writing both plays, he evaded a life sentence; the blood in his pen had been waning when he'd written this, and it flowed when he wrote about the maids: it's evident; that aside, this play, while donning one of the hardest titles I've read in a long time, fell short of my expectations, which I've learned to not rely on when beginning any work, but as I've said before, with what excerpts I've read, I expected there to be an edge to this, though I suppose it has more of an emphasis in his later plays, or I suppose nothing until I get to it--the play is winding, it's long, it's also a single act play, consisting mainly of dialogue, which I find to be wonderful, after all, I remember having enjoyed Endgame, and with that being known, you could only surmise that its pacing was slow, and it was, and that's not negative in itself, because the negative is in the fact the ending doesn't at all feel like it fit the play: it ended swiftly, mismatching the rest of the play's steady pacing, and while it could be that if Deathwatch lasted longer, it'd have lost what magic was still beating inside of it, the ending could've been better: this play isn't as fleshed out as one would believe it'd be, as there's still so much to carve, so much to lift and make better; I rate this one a [63/100], for there are worse plays floating about.
And now, for Jean-Paul Sartre's preface: it doesn't need to be there--no, not in the sense of its placement in the book, well, that too, but it doesn't need to be in the book whatsoever; I didn't bother to read it first, and the plays second, because what one knows after reading books for a while is that any preface or introduction or foreward by anyone who's not the author tends to spoil the plays prior to your beginning them, and after finishing this book, that's exactly what I saw, but there's more to it: Sartre tries to tell you what to think of them before you read them, as though it's going to put more emphasis on your experience of them--he tries to paint them his preferred colors rather than to leave them to your own interpretation as you read: yeah, that doesn't work so well--and the further I read, skipping over a passage or so, it seemed that Sartre was grasping for straws, psychoanalyzing without any real purpose than to be included in the publication; and if you remember what I said about the context of the time in which these plays were published, this is where it matters: the Maids is a play based on the real-life murder perpetrated by two sister maids, who murdered their employer's wife and daughter; so rather than psychoanalyze the reality, the inspiration behind the play, Sartre decides to analyze the play alone: there'd be more to derive from the real thing than some retelling of the reality of it, there'd be more substance, it'd be grounded further in the truth than any abstraction you apply to it--he talks about a moment in the text as being a 'black Mass,' and it's just, no, that wasn't at all the implication, and his refusal to acknowledge the real-life people in his analysis further drives the point home for me, the point that there is no point, and not in the existential idea of a lack of a true point in life itself but in the point that the preface is aimless.
[71/100]
Lovely--I found this copy of Genet's two plays in person: it's become my first time reading his works, and while I'm aware that his novels may be more visceral, I'm waiting to find one in person, or maybe I'll cave inward and find a dollar inside of me worth giving to the internet, but that's going to wait, because I've a few chunkers I'd like to buy that I think would be more worth my while--not to slight Genet, it's just that, well, what do you find in two hundred pages that you won't five times over in a thousand?
I'm going to read Sarah Kane's plays next, or Ibsen's, I'm not sure, because I know Ibsen's plays will provide the context necessary to understand Jon Fosse's works, to an extent, whose Melancholy I-II I'll be reading this year, but I'm in need of reading a work written by a woman so as to make myself all the more better: perspectives matter, and Sarah's works have interested me for so terribly long, and with what I've skimmed in the past, I'll appreciate these much more.