{"id":4235,"date":"2006-01-20T08:13:27","date_gmt":"2006-01-20T13:13:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=4235"},"modified":"2023-08-17T07:23:40","modified_gmt":"2023-08-17T11:23:40","slug":"the-books-the-flowering-peach-clifford-odets","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=4235","title":{"rendered":"The Books: \u201cThe Flowering Peach\u201d (Clifford Odets)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Next script on my <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?tag=scripts-2\">script shelf<\/a>:<\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" alt=\"FloweringPeach.jpg\" src=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/FloweringPeach.jpg\" width=\"128\" height=\"197\" align=\"left\" hspace=\"6\" \/>Next play in my little unalphabetized pile of Samuel French plays is <i><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/gp\/product\/0822204118\/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&#038;camp=1789&#038;creative=9325&#038;creativeASIN=0822204118&#038;linkCode=as2&#038;tag=thesheivari-20&#038;linkId=26I4WN7ATRITGGQY\">The Flowering Peach.<\/a><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" src=\"http:\/\/ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com\/e\/ir?t=thesheivari-20&#038;l=as2&#038;o=1&#038;a=0822204118\" width=\"1\" height=\"1\" border=\"0\" alt=\"\" style=\"border:none !important; margin:0px !important;\" \/><\/i>, by Clifford Odets<\/p>\n<p>And &#8230; it is hard to believe &#8211; but this is my last book in this bookshelf!  I started going through this bookshelf on April 19 &#8211; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2827\">the first excerpt was from <i>Hollywood Babylon<\/i>.<\/a>  Of course &#8230; I have since acquired books that are now in this bookshelf &#8230; but I haven&#8217;t read them yet &#8230; so I will leave them for the next round.  I am tireless.  April 19!  Good God!  And now it&#8217;s January whatever it is &#8230; that&#8217;s some bookshelf, huh???<\/p>\n<p><i>The Flowering Peach<\/i> is Odets&#8217; last play.  I know a couple of people who call this their favorite Odets &#8230; and it&#8217;s not really well known.  It&#8217;s the story of Noah building his ark.  It opens with Noah waking up from a dream, sitting in stillness in his dark house for a while, and then remembering the dream &#8211; he stands up abruptly and starts screaming: &#8220;No!  No!&#8221;  It&#8217;s one of the most stunning beginnings of a play I&#8217;ve ever read.  How does one play that??  Beginning a play with a vision of the end of the world.  Odets.  Gotta love him.<\/p>\n<p>I love this play because he doesn&#8217;t change his language to make it Biblical &#8230; he still writes like Odets.  It&#8217;s a comedy.  Suddenly, you get Noah and his wife bantering with each other like two old members of the Yiddish theatre, you get the classic Odets dialogue, crackling off the page &#8230; It&#8217;s a sweet play, I wish it was done more.<\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;ll excerpt a bit from the first scene.  Noah has confided in Esther his dream.  She thinks he&#8217;s crazy.  They have been married for so long that their back-and-forth almost has the quality of a vaudeville team.  Noah is horrified &#8230; he needs to get started building his ark &#8230; he has never seen a boat &#8230; he needs to alert his sons &#8230; etc.  Esther goes off to make breakfast (oh, and the set is a regular house &#8230; not a tent or anything realistic) &#8211; so she goes off to make breakfast leaving Noah alone, and tormented.<\/p>\n<p>He starts to call out to God.  This is his monologue.<\/p>\n<p><strong>From <i><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/gp\/product\/0822204118\/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&#038;camp=1789&#038;creative=9325&#038;creativeASIN=0822204118&#038;linkCode=as2&#038;tag=thesheivari-20&#038;linkId=26I4WN7ATRITGGQY\">The Flowering Peach.<\/a><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" src=\"http:\/\/ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com\/e\/ir?t=thesheivari-20&#038;l=as2&#038;o=1&#038;a=0822204118\" width=\"1\" height=\"1\" border=\"0\" alt=\"\" style=\"border:none !important; margin:0px !important;\" \/><\/i>, by Clifford Odets<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>[<i>Alone, Noah rocks himself a little, as an old Jew does, in sorrowful musing, to comfort himself.  When he speaks it is sole, humbly, sadly, and with devotion<\/i>]<\/p>\n<p>NOAH.  Lonely times again &#8230;?  [<i>sighing<\/i>]  Now I must go out in the world an&#8217; make meself for a big nuisance again &#8230;?  [<i>Then<\/i>]  Why should she think I&#8217;m crazy?  [<i>abruptly standing<\/i>]  Now, just a minute!  How do I know I&#8217;m not?  I had a dream or not?  [<i>stamping his foot<\/i>]  Floor, listen to me!  [<i>slapping the table<\/i>]  Tell me, tell me, table &#8212; I had a dream or not?  [<i>He listens, bewildered and fevered, but only silence answers him back, then he abruptly throws his arms upward and speaks angrily<\/i>]  If you spoke to me, Lord, I don&#8217;t want it!  I&#8217;m too old everybody should laugh in my face!  I ain&#8217;t got the gizzard for it &#8212; No, sir!  [<i>Toning down to a softer devotional tone resting his mouth on clasped hands<\/i>]  Oh GOd, excuse me &#8212; You are All and Everything an&#8217; I&#8217;m unworthy.  You see me &#8212; what am I good for?  All I do is cough an&#8217; spit.  Pass me by &#8212; pass me by.  Please &#8230; [<i>Now the Presence of God is heard: it is expressed by a certain musical rustle or widening shimmer, as if a gigantic tuning fork had been struck, its vibrations stern and imperious.  With this comes one long thunder roll [which in the theatre is made by one good union stage hand rolling a lead ball across the back of the stage.]  Noah falls to his knees as if struck, his head is bowed low.  After a moment he tilts his head a little and his nose twitches like a rabbit&#8217;s.  &#8220;Lord?&#8221;  he asks.  The musical shimmer deepens, spills everywhere and then softens<\/i>]  You came out, God &#8230;?  [<i>Then, listening reverently<\/i>]  Don&#8217;t be mad.  Because if I must, I must &#8230; I must?  [<i>Sighing and shaking his head sadly.  Gradually growing sly<\/i>]  What do I know about boats?  Ast my Esther an&#8217; she&#8217;ll tell you; when was I near water.  Bread is bread, I know it &#8212; a pickle is a pickle, a knife is a knife &#8212; but <i>boats<\/i>? &#8230; [<i>Noah&#8217;s slyness is reproved by a brief but angry thunder roll.  Noah nods meekly but he is heartsick nonetheless<\/i>]  Awright, whatever you tell me to do, I&#8217;ll do it &#8230; [<i>Then nodding<\/i>]  Yes, I remember everything to a &#8220;T&#8221;.  The length of the ark should be three hundred cubits, fifty cubits the breadth an&#8217; thirty cubits the height &#8230; [<i>Nodding again<\/i>]  I&#8217;ll try to convince my sons to do what You say, but with my two oldest boys I&#8217;m altogether no good!  You&#8217;ll have to help me, &#8217;cause they&#8217;ll lock me up for a noisy old man.  [<i>Abruptly<\/i>]  You&#8217;re here yet &#8230; ?  But wait a minute &#8212; the <i>main<\/i> point we didn&#8217;t get to!  You&#8217;re talking a total destruction of the whole world an&#8217; this is something terrible&#8211;!  [<i>He breaks off suddenly and gazes about, asking in a timid whisper<\/i>]  Lord &#8230;?  You&#8217;re here &#8230;?  [<i>He waits a moment and then painfully gets to his feet.  The Presence of God has faded away into silence.  Noah groans<\/i>]  Am I awake or am I asleep?  I&#8217;m awake, but I wish I was dead.  [<i>But, cocking an eye, he looks around him, wondering if he actually is awake or asleep.  He leans his cheek on an open hand, and, whimpering a little, draws delicately into himself.  Antiphonal roosters crow proudly in the distance.  The stage lights dim out quietly.<\/i>]<\/p>\n<p>CURTAIN<\/p>\n<p>\n<iframe style=\"width:120px;height:240px;\" marginwidth=\"0\" marginheight=\"0\" scrolling=\"no\" frameborder=\"0\" src=\"\/\/ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com\/widgets\/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&#038;OneJS=1&#038;Operation=GetAdHtml&#038;MarketPlace=US&#038;source=ac&#038;ref=tf_til&#038;ad_type=product_link&#038;tracking_id=thesheivari-20&#038;marketplace=amazon&#038;region=US&#038;placement=0822204118&#038;asins=0822204118&#038;linkId=GL2BUZCOTJG5FSUG&#038;show_border=true&#038;link_opens_in_new_window=true\"><br \/>\n<\/iframe><\/p>\n<p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Next script on my script shelf: Next play in my little unalphabetized pile of Samuel French plays is The Flowering Peach., by Clifford Odets And &#8230; it is hard to believe &#8211; but this is my last book in this &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=4235\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[15,16],"tags":[115,182],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4235"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4235"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4235\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":98227,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4235\/revisions\/98227"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4235"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4235"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4235"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}