Next script on my script shelf:
This play was given to me by my sister Siobhan – I believe she saw it done at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin and absolutely loved it. It is called By the Bog of Cats – Acting Edition
This play is so full of juicy great female characters that you think you’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s set in rural Ireland at a place called The Bog of Cats, and it’s a re-telling of Medea – with all the same themes of betrayal, revenge, murder, abandonment. It tells the story of Hester Swane, a tinker (that’s probably a politically incorrect term now) – who is deeply connected to the land in a way that is almost a torment. (Of course it is. She’s Irish.) Hester was born to tinker parents, she killed her brother years ago, and now she has to watch the love of her life, the father of her child, marry someone else. She snaps, and goes on a journey of revenge.
The tone of the play is not realistic. It’s kind of poetic, mysterious, and … scary, frankly.
Here’s how it opens. I just loooove her writing.
From By the Bog of Cats – Acting Edition
Dawn. On the Bog of Cats. A bleak white landscape of ice and snow. Music, a lone violin. HESTER SWANE trails the corpse of a black swan after her, leaving a trail of blood in the snow. The GHOST FANCIER stands there watching her.
HESTER. Who are you? Haven’t seen you around here before.
GF. I’m a ghost fancier.
HESTER. A ghost fancier. Never heard tell of the like.
GF. You never seen ghosts?
HESTER. Not exactly, felt what I thought were things from some other world betimes, but nothin’ I could grab onto and say, that is a ghost.
GF. Well, where there’s ghosts there’s ghost fanciers.
HESTER. That so? So what do you do, Mr. Ghost Fancier? Eye up ghosts? Have love affairs with them?
GF. Dependin’ on the ghost. I’ve trailed you a while. What’re you doin’ draggin’ the corpse of a swan behind ya like it was your shadow?
HESTER. This is auld Black Wing. I’ve known her the longest time. We used to play together when I was a young wan. Wance I had to lave the Bog of Cats and when I returned years later this swan here came swoopin’ over the bog to welcome me home, came right up to me and kissed me hand. Found her frozen in a bog hole last night, had to rip her from the ice, left half her underbelly.
GF. No one ever tell ya it’s dangerous to interfere with swans, especially black wans?
HESTER. Only an auld superstition to keep people afraid. I only want to bury her. I can’t be struck down for that, can I?
GF. You live in that caravan over there?
HESTER. Used to; live up the lane now. In a house, though I’ve never felt at home in it. But you, Mr. Ghost Fancier, what ghost are you ghoulin’ for around here?
GF. I’m ghoulin’ for a woman be the name of Hester Swane.
HESTER. I’m Hester Swane.
GF. You couldn’t be, you’re alive.
HESTER. I certainly am and aim to stay that way.
GF. (looks around, confused) Is it sunrise or sunset?
HESTER. Why do ya want to know?
GF. Just tell me.
HESTER. It’s that hour when it could be aither dawn or dusk, the light bein’ so similar. But it’s dawn, see there’s the sun coming up.
GF. Then I’m too previous. I mistook this hour for dusk. A thousand apologies.
Goes to exit. HESTER stops him.
HESTER. What do ya mean you’re too previous? Who are ya? Really?
GF. I’m sorry for intrudin’ upon you like this. It’s not usually my style.
Lifts his hat, walks off.
HESTER. (shouts after him) Come back! — I can’t die — I have a daughter.
Talk about a lousy start to your day.
What’s a Tinker?
Scott – ha!!
“Yeah, today did not get off to a good start. I found a bloody swan, I dragged it around, I started talking to a ghost fancier … things are not looking good.”
Tinkers. Also known as “traveling people” – Here is a link about them.
They live in trailers alongside the road. They beg for money, they sing and play music for money … When I was there as a kid, I remember there being way more tinkers visible than there are now … but that may just be an illusion.
They definitely still exist. I saw 2 little boys singing Christmas Carols on Liffey Street my last time there – they were small freckled pug-faced dirty boys – like something out of Dickens – singing as LOUD AS THEY COULD. They were wonderful singers.
When I was in Dublin as a kid, I remember seeing tons of small dirty children running around, begging, completely unsupervised … In the more sophisticated present-day Dublin, I didn’t see them anymore.
But they’re all over the place when you go out into the country. You see their silver trailers, with laundry, and trash, and junk surrounding them …
My Friend Abby played Hester’s daughter, Josie. She was a very good actress. Her mom was like “Abby gets called some bad words, and there is fighting and violence. But you cant understand what they say half the time, its irish” Lol I love by the bog of cats!]
By the bog of cats I learn false from true
Learned too late that it was you and always you.
Left me sore of heart, a brimful of rue.
By the bog of cats in the darkling due.