100 Books Like Three Tragedies by Renaissance Women

I was immediately excited to read this book, which is the best biographical study of Mary Wroth, author of the Love’s Victory.

It informed my work on editing the play by giving a meticulously-researched insight into Wroth’s life as an aristocratic woman: her struggles in love (with her first cousin William Herbert), and her determination to write. Importantly, it corrected earlier assumptions about Wroth’s relationship with her husband Robert Wroth.

It has been thought that she was satirizing him in the foolish character of Rustic in her play, but Hannay’s book taught me to identify him with the sympathetic character of the Forester.

It also clarified Wroth’s relationships with her family and the politics of the royal court in which they were involved.

This book gives an excellent introduction to women’s involvement in theatre in the age of Shakespeare by making 6 of their texts easily available for the first time.

It publishes Queen Elizabeth I’s translation of a section by Seneca; The Tragedy of Antony (1595), a translation of a French play about Antony and Cleopatra by Mary Sidney Herbert, (aunt to Lady Mary Wroth).

It also publishes three original plays by women: Elizabeth Cary’s The Tragedy of Mariam (1613), The Concealed Fancies (1645), by the sisters Elizabeth Brackley and Jane Cavendish, and a valuable edition of Love’s Victory (but in a short section on p. 122 misprints the order of pages in the manuscript).

Cupid’s Banishment (1619) by Robert White is an entertainment, written to be performed by schoolgirls. 

I found this historical novel about the life of Mary Sidney Hebert, the Countess of Pembroke really enjoyable because it offers me the fantasy of filling in the gaps in the historical record about one of the early women writers.

I find it impressive because it draws on years of research on Mary Sidney Herbert by the author who is a renowned literary critic. Miller tells Mary Sidney Herbert’s story ingeniously by paralleling it with the life of a fictional character, Rose, who serves as her waiting woman.

Although I know the historical facts, the twists and turns in the narrative successfully cast new light on how I read Mary Sidney Herbert’s poetry and her play Antonius, though, for me, the co-authorship that the novel imagines remains entirely fictional.

This modern edition gives readers a sample plays by the remarkable Margaret Cavendish, who privately published 2 volumes of plays in 1662 and 1668 though many were probably written earlier.

I find her plays fascinating for the ways they deal explicitly with women’s experiences in love, in war and in marriage.

In this selection Love’s Adventures Parts I and II features a cross-dressing heroine in pursuit of her intended husband; Bell In Campo Parts I and II, dramatizes the experience of a superheroine leading an army, while The Bridals and The Convent of Pleasure satirize love and marriage.

I love The Convent of Pleasure’s depictions of same-sex retreat and desire. Cavendish’s witty prefaces on the difficulties of writing plays for a woman are included as appendices to Shaver’s edition.

I find this a compelling biography of a 20th-century theatrical legend who was also a compassionate, progressive woman. I’m deeply impressed by Sybil Thorndike’s skill and stamina. Her performances covered a staggering 65 years, encompassing more than 300 parts.

She magnetized those who saw her on stage, from London’s West End and the mining valleys of South Wales to war-torn Europe, America, and Australia. Bernard Shaw wrote ‘Saint Joan’ for this actress who took Shakespeare and Euripides to the people. Jonathan Croall’s biography is thoroughly researched, yet he wears his scholarship lightly in this eminently readable book.

This play, which I’ve read as a script but not seen performed, is a genuine treat. It hits the sweet spot for me: it is a delicious cross-section of ‘post-apocalyptic’ and ‘stories about stories.'

I also loved it for just how weird it was. It’s such a bizarre–yet realistic–depiction of how stories change over time, and it’s the only thing I’ve ever read that has made me want to write a play. It’s probably the oddest text I ever recommend to people.  

Greek tragedy is similar to fantasy except for matters of form (e.g. the chorus). Euripides was a startlingly modern playwright, especially when it comes to psychology.

Heracles can be portrayed as a monstrous monster-slayer (I’m looking at you, Sophocles), but in Euripides he’s noble, brave, and domestic. He performs his labors because he’s the kind of guy to use his powers for good.

Hera, being a jealous jerk, drives him mad; Madness herself is unenthusiastic about the whole affair, recognizing that Heracles has made the world a better place.

But insane Heracles knows that he’s murdering innocent people. Is that who he really is? Is it all Hera’s fault?

This translation of four of Euripides’ plays features his three best female avengers.

Electra is the loyal daughter who conspires with her brother Orestes, to avenge the killing of their father by slaughtering their mother, Clytemnestra. Hecabe is the fierce maternal figure who exacts revenge for her dead son Polydorus on the man who killed him for his riches. Medea is the murderous mother who avenges herself on her faithless husband, Jason, by killing her own children to destroy his family line.

The power of these plays is in the way their plots build as the women move from grief to anger, culminating in their fatal acts of revenge and leaving the audience to ponder on the nature of justice.

Beginning, middle, and an end—what writer doesn’t know about these three concepts? Well, Aristotle is the guy who wrote about these ideas in his book, and thousands of years later we’re still using them and thinking about them.

The foundations of modern literature and theater rest on this book and every writer should be familiar with its ideas and concepts. Story is story, and Aristotle started the ball rolling for everyone who is interested in storytelling.

Wole Soyinka, the Nobel Prize laureate from Nigeria, was steeped in both Yoruba traditions and Greek tragedy as well as Shakespeare.

This combination of influences shaped his adaptation of The Bacchae, by the ancient Greek playwright Euripides.

He brings this play into the modern world of slavery, using White and Black actors. At the same time, he captures the original’s blend of ritual and performance.

This explosive mixture is the most compelling study I know in what theater can do: mobilize bodies in front of an audience. It also shows how theater can bridge vast historical and cultural differences.