The time for sorrow has passed

When I was in college, I thought at one point that I might minor in Theatre Arts, so I was taking a lot of theatre-type classes. I also attended a lot of one-act, student-directed productions. One afternoon I went to see such a production: 27 Wagons Full of Cotton, by Tennessee Williams. I don't know what I was expecting, but what I got was something so well staged and performed that I was awestruck, so much so that I spent the following summer reading lots of plays by Tennessee Williams. (I got over that phase.) Anyway, right after the play, I went straight home and babbled in semi-coherent rapture to my roommates about the profound theatrical experience I had had and then, after mentioning there would be one last performance that very evening, I invited them to come see it with me so that they, too, could experience the magnificence of it.

They all turned me down. And so it was with a heavy heart that I returned to the theatre alone that night. Yet, once again, I was lifted out of my mundane sorrow by the brilliant performances. And I told myself that, whenever I found anything brilliant or lovely or of good report or praiseworthy, I would share it with people, even if those people then turned me down left and right.

So. A few days ago, I read the very exciting news that Robert V S Redick's third book in the Chathrand Voyage series is scheduled to come out in February of next year! . . . !!

I've posted about Redick's books here and here. And you can read about this new one here. But let me reiterate that Redick's books are equivalent in brilliance to that obscure little production I saw decades ago but that I have never forgotten.

1 comment:

Shannon said...

That's happened to me before. I've since learned not to make a big deal about things ONLY if they agree to go see them. Then they can't be disappointed. But if they never see it, I say go ahead and brag all you want. I would've gone to see the play with you. Maybe not twice though :)