In a quest to look for things in the news that are not political, I saw today in the New York Times a review of a new biography on Tom Stoppard. The book is entitled “Tom Stoppard: A Life” by Hermione Lee, which feels rather blunt for a subject as witty as Stoppard. The review seemed to be lukewarm to the biography, but the article does illustrate that this book contains new insights into the subject, as this is the second biography on the famed playwright and screenwriter. I have a feeling a will read it.
In college, Stoppard was a favorite of several professors, and his works were taught extensively. In fact, my department presented “The Real Thing” and I was lucky enough to take on the lead role of Henry. I spent a great amount of time going over Stoppard’s words, not only in that play, but many of his others. I remember many late nights, over beers with friends, debating what aspect of his plays were autobiographical, and what role does philosophy play as character motivation, or is it just used as a joke?
When I was doing my research on Stoppard, I took a trip down to Austin to visit the Harry Ransom Center at The University of Texas. The Center is great because they will let you handle original papers and manuscripts for research purposes. There are a few hoops to jump through, but nothing detrimental to one’s ambition. (I still keep my Ransom Center card in my wallet.) I went to the reading room having requested the earliest draft the Center had of “The Real Thing,” and I was given a manila folder that contained a typed draft of the play. And there, on the first page of the draft, was coffee/tea ring stain on the paper. There was a thrill in me, knowing that I was holding the same paper that Stoppard put his mug down on. It wasn’t exactly bridging time, but it was a nice reminder that he wasn’t the “god” I was taught in school, but just a guy who is sloppy with a beverage.