When I’m watching really good theater — or, well, less pretentiously, when I’m watching really engaging theater — I stop breathing. I’m not sure whether I forget to breathe, or make a subconscious decision not to breathe because breathing makes me feel like I’m punching holes in the fourth wall, but anyway I start feeling lightheaded and that’s when I remember to start breathing again. Or if there’s a joke, because then I have to breathe in order to laugh. Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia is very funny, and in the first scene I was laughing so much my stomach hurt, but…
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Review: Arcadia, Tom Stoppard
Published 11 Mar 2010
by
Gin Jenny
There is a particular sort of novel of which I always profess to be passionately fond: the sort with one plotline in the olden days with people doing their olden-day thing, and one in the present with eager scholars researching the very olden-day events in the other plotline. (Is there a word for this sort of book? Can there be one?) If you have ever reviewed a book like this on your blog, I have probably commented to say something like, “Love this sort of book! Adore! Worship! Cannot imagine my life without!” and added it to my reading list…
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