: D H Lawrence
: Husbands and Sons
: Faber& Faber
: 9780571329687
: 1
: CHF 9.90
:
: Dramatik
: English
: 96
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
It's risky work, handlin' men, my lass. For when a woman builds her life on men, either husbands or sons, she builds on summat as sooner or later brings the house down crash on her head - yi, she does. In Husbands and Sons, Ben Power has interwoven three of D. H. Lawrence's greatest dramas, The Daughter-in-Law, A Collier's Friday Night and The Widowing of Mrs Holroyd. Together, they describe the community Lawrence came from with fierce tenderness, evoking a now-vanished world of manual labour and working-class pride. On the cracked border of Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire stands the village of Eastwood. The women of the village, wives and mothers, struggle to hold their families and their own souls together in the shadow of the great Brinsley pit. Husband and Sons by D. H. Lawrence, adapted by Ben Power, premiered at the National Theatre, London, in October 2015 in a co-production with Royal Exchange Theatre.

David Herbert Lawrence was born in Nottinghamshire in 1885. Predominantly remembered as a novelist, he also wrote poetry, essays and drama. His father was a coalminer and his plays A Collier's Friday Night, The Daughter-in-Law and The Widowing of Mrs Holroyd drew on his childhood in the mining community of Eastwood, Nottinghamshire. Mostly unperformed in his lifetime, they are now recognised as some of his greatest early work. D. H. Lawrence died of tuberculosis in Vence, France, in 1930.

Friday, towards five o’clock. It is growing dark. The women of the village appear in their houses.

Mrs Gascoigne sits at a table. She is a large, matronly woman in her sixties. With her, standing at the stove, is her daughter-in-law, Minnie. Although this is her house, there is no doubt that the higher status is held by the older woman.

Lydia Lambert is laying the table for her family’s supper. She is in her early fifties, still attractive, although tired now and sad, somehow. She wears a black dress and spectacles. She polishes the cutlery as she lays it out.

Lizzie Holroyd is a woman in her late thirties. She too looks tired, although there is a quiet searching behind her eyes, as if hope had not yet quite left her. She is going back and forth between the scullery and the yard outside her cottage, hanging washing.

She picks a shirt from the line and looks at the sky.

Lizzie (aloud, to herself) Ah, but these clouds. Always on a washday. How are you to get anything dry? Great heavy clouds. (Quiet.) It’ll rain and wash us all away … (Shaking her head.) A foolish thought in an idle brain.

She moves into her kitchen, carrying the shirt.

Minnie Gascoigne suddenly gasps and goes to pick up her coat and hat.

Mrs Gascoigne Minnie. Wheer are ter goin?

Minnie I’ve forgotten the treacle. Luther’ll want some treacle with his pudding.

Mrs Gascoigne Goin’ out now? Ee. So when he gets a back from pit, he’ll find s’wife gone and absent? A fine state of affairs for a newly married man t’ come whoam to.

Minnie If they get here before I’m back, give them the stew. I’ll not be long.

Mrs Gascoigne Yi. I’ll mek sure they’re fed.

And Minnie goes.

A fine state of affairs.

She stands, moves to the stove and stirs the stew.

Lizzie spreads the shirt out in front of the fire.

Lizzie (aloud, to herself) You know they’re not dry even now.

She continues bringing clothes in.

Mrs Gascoigne serves her stew into a china bowl as her youngest son, Joe, enters. He takes off his cap. His arm i