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1972 BOOK REVIEWS 487 Nakedness [1969]) Professor Burkman offers us The Golden Bough. She begins by looking at the dual content of Pinter's plays, the exact portrayal of surfaces and the evocation of forces beneath, characters who speak vividly in the idiom of the streets but seem to live in a kind of dream, or more appropriately, nightmare: surface detail and mysteries beneath. She suggests, however, that Pinter is not trying to puzzle us, that he is a poetic dramatist rather than a writer of thrillers, and by "poetic dramatist" she means that his work is based on ritual which Pinter employs for his own purposes. The use of the verb "employs" suggests conscious design which I rather doubt. Pinter's own phrase-"the weasel under the cocktail cabinet"-sounds exactly right whereas ritual sacrifices sound alien. But there is no way of denying the validity of mythic criticism and anthropology since, like appeals to Freud's cauldron, such critics always have the subconscious in reserve. To my mind The Golden Bough as source or influence is quite resistible and myth as a means of illumination is too self-regarding. On page 23 Professor Burkman writes that Stanley, in The 'Birthday Party, is "hardly the romantically described priest of Nemi, sword in hand, ready to defend his crown with his life" but, Professor Burkman insists, a strong parallel does exist and by page 24 Stanley is sharing the fate of "the lonely and menaced priest of Nemi guarding his Golden Bough." Similarly Ruth in The Homecoming emerges as a fertility goddess and Sphinx. Throughout, the argument from ritual fits, but then so did the bed of Procrustes. If I am not entirely persuaded by her argument it is less from prejudice that anything can fit myth than from two doubts. The first concerns the nature of dramatic criticism itself. Does a critic treat the plays as a developing literary effort (which they most certainly are) or as plays in the theatre, ephemeral, differing from production to production and particularly in contemporary theatre where the play is mainly regarded as a starting point rather than a finished product? When reading this book the argument seems reasonable and helpful, but sitting in the Aldwych it is quite artificial and foolish. My second doubt occurs outside the context of the theatre. While watching or reading Pinter's plays one is conscious of games being played but not of rituals being enacted; in short, the plays suggest Pirandello rather than Sir James Frazer. Even so we must not refuse the proffered branch. Professor Burkman forces us to look at the plays in a way which is finally more suggestive and useful than Martin Esslin does. And her final paragraph-though what this prov~s about her methods is not certain-when she speaks of "an evocation of life's flow through the mind and through time" exactly anticipates Pinter's latest play Old Times. Personally I think that on the evidence of Landscape, Silence, and Night one could have predicted Old Times without Sir James's help, but in coming to terms with the continuing enigma of Harold Pinter we should welcome assistance from any source. More importantly, Professor Burkman's handsomely produced book is the first to break new ground after Esslin's exhaustive description. ARNOLD P. HINCHLIFFE University of Manchester THE WRITINGS OF ]. M. SYNGE, by Robin Skelton. Indianapolis & New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1971. 190 pp. $8.00. J. M. SYNGE AND HIS WORLD, by Robin Skelton. New York: The Viking Press, 1971. 144 pp. $7.95. 488 MODERN DRAMA February Robin Skelton's Writings of J. M. Synge is the culmination of some years of devotion to the Irish writer, of great intimacy with his work, and of a meticulous supervision of the four volume Oxford edition which established the Synge canon. The major merit of this critical study resides in the excellent discussion of the views and pre-occupations of Synge's youth and young manhood, the investigation of the nature of Synge's dramatic innovations, the attempt to graft broad cultural myths analogically onto Synge's plays, and the argument for Synge's influence on W. B. Yeats...

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