Alexandria: a hopeless play

Alexandria: a hopeless play

Cast of Characters



NARRATOR:  	     Gender doesn’t matter. Modern clothing.	           

THE LIBRARIANS:     All in vaguely Greek-style garb, may be 				          bearded. Untidy, barefooted, somewhat 							ravaged looking. 

ZENODOTUS	A bit pedantic.	

CALLIMACHUS   Very close to insane.

APOLLONIUS    Arch.

ERASTOSTHENES	 More expansive than the others, even 		  				 cheerful

ARISTOPHANES	 Brisk.	

ARISTARCHUS	 Somewhat vague. Even untidier than the 						 others.

HYPATIA:	           Supernaturally calm, reserved. Her garment       				 is blood-stained.  


Scene
  
No curtain. No flats or backdrops, just the rawness backstage.  The floor is covered with torn, broken books and/or scrolls--so many that the characters must kick them aside as they enter, one by one.

Notes
Each Librarian enters from stage Left as his name is called by the Narrator, steps to the very edge of the stage, and addresses the audience. When he has finished, he wanders back among the mess of papers and fiddles around among them, ineffectually.







NARRATOR
(Enters slowly, shuffling through the books, 
stopping occasionally to pick up a fragment and read it, sometimes aloud, ad lib.  
To center stage:  
looks at the audience in silence 
for an uncomfortably long time.)

Things happen. Despite what historians unearth, it’s not possible to know exactly what happened.Despite what the prophets and pundits say, it is not possible to know what will happen, or what would have happened. May I present to you, for example,  the librarians of Alexandria? We will never know what was lost when that great library was destroyed. Would it have saved us? It is foolish to hypothesize. And yet—-perhaps—-can we regard its loss as a warning? What are we losing now? In any case, I shall introduce you to the librarians. They have their opinions. First:  Zenodotus of Ephesus, grammarian. 


ZENODOTUS  
You, librarians! Hear me! Are you listening? I was the first to alphabetize, label, and weed—-no doubt occupations with which you all are familiar. Like myself, you must constantly decide: What is important now? What must be saved and catalogued? What will you discard? You never know what they might want someday. You never know what some scholar will require,if not now, a hundred years from now, a thousand years from now. But, my fellow librarians, you never know what they will burn. No matter what you do, no matter how careful you are, you do not know if it will last. Oh, my work, my work. . . and all of it lost! May your great work never be lost!

NARRATOR  
And here is Callimachus, father of bibliography.  

CALLIMACHUS  
Half a million books! One hundred and twenty volumes of catalogue alone. Catalogue! Catalogue! Lost. All, all lost.  
(He is overcome by emotion, throws himself on the floor, and continues to weep—mostly quietly—through to the end.)

NARRATOR
  (Regarding Callimachus with resignation.)  
Ah, well. It can’t be helped, I suppose. There’s a kind of obsession here. Next, Apollonius who wrote Argonautica in the old and epic style and was mocked from the city in shame. It is highly unlikely that this sort of thing would happen today.

APOLLONIUS
(To the Narrator.)
Do not be so sure, my friend. 
(To the audience.)
Like you, we were not strangers to scandal and gossip, to exaggeration, the power of untruth. Perhaps among you now, a poet would not be physically driven from a city for rhyming poetry. And yet, and yet. . among you, even now, I hear that “this sort of thing” still happens all the time. Mocking and shame are still rampant. Reputations rise and fall with the gossip of the day, with the opinions of the learned critics and, I hear, the opinions of the ignorant masses. Human nature, always, always, is the stuff of epic. The library might be gone, but some things are, shall we say, indestructible.

NARRATOR
(Pause. Opens mouth to speak, but decides not to.)  
Now Eratosthenes, whom Strabo called “a mathematician among geographers and a geographer among mathematicians.” Who measured Earth and its tilt from where he stood, who invented leapday, who mapped the whole known world, invented the armillary sphere, who wrote poetry and chronologies, who criticized Aristotle. . . 

ERATOSTHENES
(Enters during the narration and interrupts with a gesture.)  
Aristotle and the foolishness of racial purity! There’s good and bad in everyone, and the world—-Ah! The great globe! It gets smaller all the time. How I wish I’d lived into your century! And time itself gets smaller, no matter the number of days. Maybe you find my accomplishments impressive, but
They called me “Beta”, nonetheless, since I was always second best.
So much to discover, so much to learn, so much—-So many doors were opening then, in Alexandria. So many doors still opening. Ah!

NARRATOR  
Well then. Now here’s Aristophanes, who invented punctuation.   

ARISTOPHANES  
And still the comma bears the name I gave. I like that. “Comma. Comma. Comma.” Cut-off piece. To show you where to breathe. Don’t forget to breathe, my friends.

NARRATOR  
I’ll make a note. Now I present Aristarchus, original critic, editor of Homeric poetry, 
(Sotto voce.)
fusspot. . .

ARISTARCHUS  
Ah yes, that would be I. So much of Homer as handed down, well, let me say that it was doubtful. Not up to the standard. It took a careful eye and a discerning ear to sort things out and arrange them properly. Everything correct, everything in its place, you see. And so I am the original aristarch. And thus, my name lives on.  

NARRATOR
(Gestures toward the Librarians who are picking through the papers.)
So. Behold the Librarians.

LIBRARIANS
(Look up and organize into a circle, somewhat clumsily and randomly, and join hands—all except Callimachus who is still on the floor—and begin to circle around the Narrator. Individual librarians break out of the chanting rhythm to say their lines.) 

In ten great halls with marble walls 
amid gardens and fountains we walked.  
The Muses were our mistresses.  
We ached to open, burned to know.   
Our eager hands unrolled the scrolls.

ZENODOTUS
The Book of Manetho written by Seshat in the Hall of Heliopolis on the sacred tree.  

ERATOSTHENES
The History of Babylon in Berossos’s own hand.  

ARISTARCHU:  
Acts of the Greeks and Barbarians under the Tyrian Kings.

APOLLONIUS  
Inscriptions from the Phoenician pillars of the sun. 

HYPATIA
(Enters, menacing.) 
Nothing, of course, by Hypatia. Let’s not forget her.

(The Librarians stop and break the circle. The Narrator and the Librarians—except Callimachus— cluster together and watch her, wary and awkward.)

NARRATOR
(Uneasy.)
You weren’t exactly a Librarian. . . .

HYPATIA  
Oh, that’s what you think. What does that mean, “librarian”? I kept things, sorted things, discovered things, lost things. I lost my life, but that did not matter. In the long history of all things, that did not matter. Loss does not matter.

LIBRARIANS 
(Murmuring ad lib to one another.) 
Lost things, kept things, sorted, what matters? barbarians. . )

HYPATIA
(Her quiet voice over them, silencing them.
Addressing audience from the very edge of the stage.)  
For a little while, here, the world was full of light. Then it was dark. Not the soft dark of night, nor the comforting dark of the tomb, but a darkness of mind—-a flat, cold dark. A darkness of absolute, a darkness of certainty. Nothing reflecting, nothing penetrating, nothing to breathe but dust. Instead of questioning, silencing. Instead of learning, burning. Instead of conversing, murdering. Instead of wonder, fear. And on it goes, and on it goes. Light to dark and back again. But always, always, there is somewhere a glimmer. Always a root that will sprout up green. I think your world is dark now. And you are losing things. Always, always losing things. But is there still light? I think so. Looking down into your times, I see lamplight here and there. Even a little light keeps the darkness from being complete. A question, an exploration, a new word, a new work of art, a laugh, an act of kindness. So yes, here in Alexandria, we lost more than you know. But that is not your concern. What was lost is not your concern at all. Look to what is. Keep what you can and keep going. Keep your lamps alight.
(She turns and exits.) 

(As the Narrator begins the next speech, 
the Librarians join hands—
all except Callimachus who is still on the floor crying—
and begin a stately circle dance around the Narrator.)

NARRATOR
(A pause, watches Hypatia exit.)  
Well, maybe. Maybe what we lost doesn’t matter after all. Maybe it’s all about what we do now. But we don’t know. We’ll never know. That’s the problem. That’s the point. We’ll never know what was lost. . .The past. . . the way things were. . .We don’t know what’s going to matter. We don’t know what matters now. . .
(Repeats, ad lib, while the Librarians dance and chant, 
words rising above and around the chanting.)

LIBRARIANS 
(Chanting. Breaking into ad.lib.)
The barbarians are still at your gates.
Still, your libraries burn.
Still, the wisdoms are lost.
Beware, beware, beware, beware. . . 
 
(After awhile,the Librarians break the circle and advance on the audience, stopping at the edge of the stage. Sudden silence.)

HYPATiA 
(Off.)
Keep your lamps alight.

(Librarians turn, exuent, still chanting. Callimachus remains, sobbing on the floor. The Narrator stands still for a moment, then runs off. The curtain falls.)



BREAKING THE NEWS


BREAKING THE NEWS

by

Mary F. C. Pratt




This play was part of a 24 hour play festival from "The Garden of Voices," a producer of podcasts like "old fashioned radio dramas." We started at 7 p.m. The playwrights had till 9 a.m. to send the scripts to the producer, and the directors and actors had till 7 that evening to rehearse. The plays were then presented live on Zoom, and will be available later as a podcast.
 The participants decided on a charity--Planned Parenthood--and came up with  some themes that fit in with the charity's mission. I chose these: 
 
Generational differences in mentality of what families should be.
Young couple deciding if it's the right time to start a family


CHARACTERS

SUSAN	        A retired teacher, in her 70s. 
JENNIFER	Susan’s stepdaughter, a businesswoman in her fifties.
JASON	        Jennifer’s son, working the gig economy. In his twenties.

SETTING 	A coffee shop. The present.






















At “Rise”:	Coffee shop sounds. SUSAN is seated.


JASON
Hi Gram. Thanks so much for coming. 

SUSAN
Not a problem. What are grandmothers for?

JASON
Cookies? Birthday presents? Moral support? 

SUSAN
All of the above. Where’s your mother, speaking of moral support?

JASON
She texted awhile ago to say she’s running late. Some meeting she can’t get out of.

SUSAN
Well, okay then. This will give us a chance to get caught up. I’ve hardly seen you since you’ve been driving that delivery truck.

JASON
I know, right? Weird hours. But it’s the best job I’ve had for awhile. Anyhow. It’s good to see you, Gram. 

SUSAN
Likewise. I’ve missed you. So what’s up? All you said was you didn’t want to talk to your mother alone. It sounds serious, kid. What’s going on?

JASON
Well, it is kind of serious. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should wait till Mom gets here.

SUSAN
Why? So you won’t have to repeat yourself, or because you don’t want her knowing that you talk to me sometimes when she’s not around?

JASON
Ha. All of the above. Can you read my mind?

SUSAN
Of course not. It’s just that it’s a lot like mine.

JASON
Yeah, it is, isn’t it? And that’s weird because I’m not even related to you.

SUSAN
Be that as it may. Your grandfather is related to you, and I’ve been married to him long enough to know how his mind works.

JASON
Um. Not like mine for sure.

SUSAN
Exactly. Now what’s going on?

JASON
Well, you know Darcy?

SUSAN
Of course I know Darcy. You’ve been together two years.

JASON
Three.

SUSAN
Wow, already. But yes, I know Darcy. 

JASON
Well—we’ve been thinking about having a baby.

SUSAN
You and Darcy?

JASON
Yeah, Gram. Me and Darcy.

SUSAN
Of course. You just caught me by surprise there. Your mother will have a shit fit. But I guess you know that or you wouldn’t have asked me to be here.



JASON
Yeah, she will. And it’s weird because you won’t. Have a fit. I mean, you aren’t, right? And I knew you wouldn’t. And she’s younger than you, no offense. I mean, obviously because you’re her stepmother and all, but. . . 

SUSAN
Well, technically I could be her stepmother and younger than she, you know. If your grandfather had married somebody very young after your real grandmother died.

JASON
Hey, you are my real grandmother. Cut it out.

SUSAN
I know, I know. And you are definitely my real grandson. So, real grandson, your mother will have a fit. That’s a given. How about your father?

JASON
Wbo knows? I don’t care. I haven’t seen him forever. He’s never even met Darcy. All the family that matters is you and Grandpa and Mom. Would it bother Grandpa?

SUSAN
Of course not. He’s all about live and let live. You know that.

JASON
Yeah. He didn’t bat an eye about Darcy.

SUSAN
We’re old hippies you know, sweetie. We invented sex and drugs and rock and roll and shacking up. “Living together without benefit of clergy” they used to call it. How quaint is that?

JASON
So what happened to Mom? How come she’s so—straight?

SUSAN
She got religion. And—she rebelled, right? Goes both ways. Our parenting style was pretty casual, to say the least.

JASON
Yeah, but you married Grandpa. I mean, you weren’t like in a commune or something.

SUSAN
Okay. All right then. So, Jason, you and Darcy want to have a baby?

JASON
Ooops. Here comes Mom.

			(Door opens, JENNIFER enters.)

SUSAN
Jennifer, over here!

JENNIFER
(From the counter.)
I’m going to grab a coffee and I’ll be right there. Though God only knows I don’t need more.

SUSAN
Take your time. (To JASON) Okay. You’re on. And no matter what, I’ve got your back.

JASON
I’m really nervous about this.

SUSAN
Of course you are. It will be fine. Really.

JENNIFER
(Comes to the table.)
So what are you two plotting? Jason, you look so guilty. And so do you, Sue. What are you plotting?

SUSAN
The revolution, what else?

JENNIFER
It wouldn’t surprise me. God only knows we need one. We need something. The traffic on Main Street, even before rush hour, is as bad as rush hour. And the price of gas! And now they want to raise our property taxes again, and for what? And clearly the government’s gone to hell.

SUSAN
Jennifer dear, we know all about the world. It is a mess. We agree. So let’s not talk about that. We all agree it’s a mess. We’re here because Jason has something to say that’s even more important than property taxes. Jason?

JASON
Yeah. Well. Um. Mom. Darcy and me are thinking about having a baby. We’ve pretty much decided to. I mean, it isn’t completely definite yet, but we’re pretty serious.

JENNIFER
What? A baby?

SUSAN
No need to inform the whole café, Jennifer. It is exciting, but still. This is a family matter.

JENNIFER
Exciting? Exciting? It’s appalling. Jason! I thought you’d outgrown this business. I mean, living with Darcy without being married, but now this. . . 

JASON
Mom, you’re the one who didn’t want us to get married, remember? You thought it would blow over. Well it didn’t. We really love each other. And now we want to have a baby.

JENNIFER
But why? Whatever for? With the world going to pieces, and you don’t have a real job—

SUSAN
When your father and mother had you, Jennifer, the world was going to pieces, too. The war in Viet Nam was going on and on, we all figured the Soviets would nuke us, we were just beginning to understand about how bad air and water pollution were. And, well, my dear,  we had no real jobs. Your dad was doing seasonal apple picking when your mom got pregnant.

JENNIFER
But he went to college. He became a professor. He wasn’t just a—a barrista, or a van driveror whatever.

SUSAN
When your mother got pregnant, your father was a dope-smoking wanna-be artist, Jennifer, and your mother thought she was the next Edna St. Vincent Millay. I was a budding herbalist, pardon the pun. Your father didn’t go to college until after you were born, after we were married. I was there. I know.

JENNIFER
But he always told me. . . 

SUSAN
I know what he always told you, and I never corrected him. You were conceived on a commune, presumably by your father. You survived your birth, but your mother, who was my dearest friend, didn’t. And your father never wanted you to know because it was so awful and so hard and because, yes, he managed to make something of his life after all.


JASON
Wow, Gram.


JENNIFER
Sue, I didn’t. . . .

SUSAN
I know. And it’s all right. Those were the best of times and the worst of times. It was crazy, but we thought we’d change the world. We really thought we would. And we really loved one another out there on the farm, and it all sort of worked for awhile. You were the second baby born there, and we were all so happy till your mom started bleeding and we didn’t get her to the hospital in time, and she died and it all just fell apart after that. It all just fell apart.

JENNIFER
But I thought she. . . 

SUSAN
I know, Jennifer. I know. Your dad and I will sit down with you later and tell you the whole story. 

JENNIFER
Sue. . . 

SUSAN
But this conversation is about Jason and Darcy. And by the way, Jason is not what you call “just a”van driver or “just a” anything. He’s a responsible person, trying to make a living in a hard world.  And Darcy is a law clerk, for goodness’ sake. So even though the world is going to hell, they’re as equipped as anybody to be parents. Better equipped than we were, believe me.

JENNIFER
I don’t know what to say.

SUSAN
Try saying nothing.

JASON
Uh, Mom? You okay?

JENNIFER
I don’t know. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to think. I didn’t know any of that. I thought Dad and Mom lived in a house with a bunch of people when they were in college. I didn’t know it was a—commune. I’m going to—I’m going to the restroom. I have to go put some water on my face. I’ll be right back.

JASON
You sure you’re okay, Mom?
JENNIFER
I will be. I will be okay. This is just a lot. I’ll be okay.
			(Exits.)

JASON
Grandma!

SUSAN
Yeah?

JASON
Is that for real? I mean, all that weird stuff about grandpa and drugs and communes?

SUSAN
Of course it’s real. You’ve seen the photos of us on the farm.

JASON
Yeah, but I didn’t know it was—I mean, I didn’t know it was something like that. Mom said it was when you were in college, like she said.

SUSAN
Sweetie, I told you we invented sex, drugs and rock and roll. Flower power. All you need is love, right? And your grandpa and I don’t talk about it much because—well, we just don’t. It’s our past and it’s hard to get younger people to understand what it was like. Like we didn’t understand our parents growing up in the depression and World War Two. And your kids won’t understand you growing up in the trump and covid and climate change years. 

JASON
Thanks, Gram.

SUSAN
For what? It isn’t over yet. Your mom will have more to say.

JASON
I know But thanks just for saying that about my kids not understanding. My kids. Mine and Darcy’s. Or kid. I think we might only try for one.

SUSAN
Here she comes.

JENNIFER
(Entering.) There. I feel a little better. I can handle this. Okay. So Jason,  maybe you can handle parenthood. It will be harder for you than it was for your father and me, but maybe not as hard as it was for your grandparents. I get that. I think. But Jason—-

JASON
Yeah?
JENNIFER
You’re going to adopt, right? I  mean, Darcy’s a—man.

JASON
Yeah, but no, Mom. We’re planning to—I mean we’re thinking about—trying for a biological one.

JENNIFER
But Darcy’s. . . 

JASON
He has a uterus, Mom.

JENNIFER
But Jason. That’s—-what will people think? What will—

SUSAN
What will the neighbors say? Is that what you mean, Jennifer? Is that what you’re worried about? 

JENNIFER
Well, it’s just—unnatural. It’s too strange, Jason. It’s just too strange and unnatural and you just shouldn’t do it. If God wanted men to have babies—

SUSAN
. . . he would have given them uteruses? Or is it uteri? In this case, Jennifer, that’s exactly what God, or whatever,  has done.

			(Brief silence, and an increase in coffee shop sounds.)

JENNIFER
Oh. Oh. I didn’t think of that. There’s so much I don’t understand. The world is so complicated. I just don’t understand anything any more.


SUSAN
Has anybody ever understood anything? Really understood anything?

JENNIFER
Well, I always thought I would someday. When I got to be your age, maybe. Sue, don’t you understand at least some things?

SUSAN
Nope. Hardly anything. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. Life goes on. And now you get to look forward to being a grandmnother yourself. That is, if Jason and Darcy decide to go through with it. Are you going to, sweetie?

JASON
Well, yeah. We’ve pretty much decided to. We were just hoping Mom wouldn’t mind too much. And, well, we’d kinda like to get married first. Do you mind that now, Mom?

JENNIFER
It will take—well. It will take some getting used to. Seeing Darcy pregnant? Okay. I think I can do that. I always liked Darcy. And sure. Clearly you two love each other, so get married. I think 

JENNIFER (Cont.)
it’s time. My son-in-law, the mother of my grandchild. It sounds strange, but—yes. I can say it. Can’t I, Sue? My son-in-law, the mother of my grandchild! I like it!

JASON
Thanks, Mom. Love you.

JENNIFER
I love you, too. And oh! Look at the time! I’ve got to run. I’ve got to get dinner on the table before  choir practice. ‘Bye!

SUSAN
‘Bye, Jennifer. I am proud of you.

JENNIFER
Thanks, Sue. ‘Bye.

JASON
Weird. I all worked way better than I thought it would. What happened? 

SUSAN
Stories work. Perspective works. And love, Jason. Love works. We’re among the lucky ones, you know? Love’s not all you need, but—it’s most of it. 
JASON
Thanks, Gram.

SUSAN
Any time. 


End of Play