This past weekend, my First Reader and I went back into D.C. to see Tom Stoppard’s new play “Rock ‘n’ Roll,” at The Studio Theater.

It’s about a Czech dissident in Cambridge, who returns home during the 1968 unrest, and his mentor, a British communist university professor. Stoppard himself was born in Czechoslovakia before fleeing the Nazis, and the play mixed twenty years of Czech opposition with the Western rock music that was an important symbol for the dissidents.

It was an interesting play and an engaging production in the round, and there were lots of wry truths about totalitarianism of all stripes, but for me this play was nowhere near as brilliant as Stoppard’s “Arcadia.” “Rock ‘n’ Roll” seemed mostly about ideas–the Czech opposition movement, communism in Britain, 60s and 70s rock in general and the music and life of Syd Barrett (the Pink Floyd founder and Cambridge native who became mentally unstable) in particular. The parallels, to me as a musician and a student of history and literature, were fascinating.

But other than some tender moments with the British communist Max and his extended family, the play didn’t seem to be as much also about the characters. Perhaps it was the long lapses of narrative time between scenes, often three or more years. Perhaps it’s that the essence of rock or of winning societal freedom is hard to dramatize. Perhaps it was that the dissident protagonist didn’t seem to have a clear goal–he went home to Czechoslovakia but didn’t know exactly why; he vacillated about signing a political petition then got talked into it; he spent time between scenes in prison but didn’t seem much changed for it; and his running off with another character at the end of the play seemed sudden to me and not fully motivated.

“Arcadia” is likewise about ideas, but at the same time it’s also about the characters. Thomasina is aching to learn, Septimus is driven to teach her, Bernard aches to prove that Byron stayed at Sidley Park, and Hannah is driven to endure Bernard’s blather. That may be that play’s higher genius, that it’s about both ideas and people at the same time.

Which is definitely the combination I prefer. I don’t care for SF that’s purely about ideas or fantasy that’s purely about a milieu. I’ve got to have dynamic people (or aliens) amongst those ideas or that milieu, rife with their own core hopes and fears, driven to pursue something, so I can empathize with their core humanness while they’re wrestling with ideas or moving through a milieu.

For me, it all comes down to that line from Faulkner’s Nobel acceptance speech–the only thing worth writing (or reading) about is the human heart in conflict with itself.

Last weekend my First Reader and I went into D.C. to see “Arcadia,” Tom Stoppard’s early-90s masterpiece, at the Folger. The play itself is utterly brilliant, seamlessly weaving literature and science and their history over nuanced characters and vivid settings both past and modern.

The Folger’s production of it we thought was pretty good but not equally brilliant. I saw a lady on local PBS saying it was the best “Arcadia” she’d ever seen, but we saw a fantastic one at UVa about ten years ago, which included several very good theater department grad students in the adult roles and undergrad future actress Sarah Drew as Thomasina. It’s hard to remember exactly, and at the time I may partly have been blown away by the play itself, but I still think that production was better.

Either way, it’s a shame that there isn’t a film version of this play, or of more of Stoppard’s work (the Tim Roth/Gary Oldman Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is the only one I know of, and I agree with Roger Ebert that the movie falls flat). Especially with the Hollywood screenplays he’s written, you’d think some indie director would be interested in filming one of his plays. Maybe they’re just far too cereberal for a film audience–which might be one reason I love them.

I was delighted last week to read a glowing review of my short story “Ebb,” which is in the current issue of Space and Time. It’s by Rob Santa, a writer and indie publisher of swords and sorcery, in the Firebrand Fiction column at SFReader.com. Of all the stories in that issue, he said “‘Ebb’ is my favorite piece, a true standout.” Among other strong praise, he noted “Andrews gives each piece of this world a rich description, with enough emotion and character to chew on for days.” Pretty cool!

“Ebb” had a long and arduous path to publication, including several editors who did not understand the ending, so I was quite pleased to finally find one who did. But it’s even more rewarding to know that my vision connected with at least one reader, and just as powerfully as I intended it. Thanks very much, Mr. Santa, for the kind words!

A couple years ago I was in the checkout line at a Borders bookstore. Behind me was a girl, eleven or twelve years old. In her hands she had a couple CDs, maybe one PS2 game, and three YA novels.

More novels than either CDs or video games! I wanted to give her a great big hug right there in the checkout line. (Which, as an unshaven middle-aged man, probably would’ve gotten me arrested…. :) ) But with reading rates plunging and modern kids distracted by more other entertainment options than ever before, any kid who’s reading any fiction is fine by me. If they learn to love reading and/or the stuff they’re reading, hopefully they’ll keep reading fiction as an adult. And with paranormal and SF/F/H the hottest thing right now in YA, it’s even better for us writers of adult spec-fic.

Author and blogger John Scalzi has a great post today on this very subject. He notes that YA novels have been finalists and winners for several of the major SF/F awards this year. And he thinks it’s great too.

This is of course all market-driven–YA readers are buying paranormal stuff, so authors are writing it and publishers are publishing it. But behind that market trend are millions of young readers who hopefully will carry an interest in fiction into their adult lives.