Don't Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs. Worthngton

Why is it that authors are drawn, like moths to a dangerous flame, to depict the world of the theatre? And why is it that most do it so very badly? We just bailed on reading the latest Laetitia Talbot mystery (A Darker God, by Barbara Cleverly), unable to stomach further abuse of amateur theatrics. Could anyone who has ever set foot on a stage (even carrying a broom) believe an entire cast could carry on with no clue that an actual murder has been committed? Those bloodcurdling and totally unrehearsed screams and death rattle? Geoffrey (who else?) is overacting, again, darling! Amazing how a tailor's mannequin and wig look so completely, believably life- (or death-?) like. Must be the theatrical lighting. After all hell has broken loose and everyone onstage finally has noticed all is not well, yet another clueless character attempts to make his belated entrance, spouting poetry, huffy that his proper cue has not been uttered. Minutes after that, the director finally wades into the rehearsal, annoyed that everyone appears to be 'improvising' rather than sticking to the script. Worst yet, the detective steps out of the chorus and feels the need to introduce himself -- by name -- to fellow cast members with whom he would obviously have been rehearsing for weeks.

Authors who pride themselves on (and flaunt) the minutest details unearthed by their research into period or professional milieus trip themselves up the moment they step backstage. Why does a good ear go all to tin when trying to catch the tone of a realistic rehearsal or performance? One cannot imagine there is any lack of opportunity to observe the natives in their aboriginal state. Perhaps one might consider asking an insider to vet the copy before making a total shambles of it? After all, theatre folk are also in the business of creating alternate realities and are smart enough to know when they need to consult an outside expert. As a teacher, one is all too aware that anyone who has ever been to school fancies himself an expert at running one. Does a similar phenomenon occur when dealing with the theatre-going public? One shudders to think that, at least with mystery authors, this seems to be the case.