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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
In "The Albany Depot: A Farce," William Dean Howells masterfully wields wit and satire to critique the social mores and public behaviors of his time, showcasing his adeptness in comedic drama. Written in the late 19th century, the play unfolds in a bustling railroad depot, a microcosm of American society, where diverse characters collide, revealing the absurdities of life. Howells employs a blend of naturalistic dialogue and farcical situations to illuminate the nuanced interplay between social class and human folly, thus situating the work within the broader context of realism that defines his literary oeuvre. William Dean Howells, often hailed as the "Dean of American Letters," possessed a keen awareness of contemporary social issues and the American experience. His background as a journalist and editor, coupled with a belief in the value of literature as a vehicle for social reform, influenced his creation of this farce. Through his insightful observations of American society, Howells sought to present both the humor and the hypocrisy he saw around him, infusing his characters with both depth and comedic flair. I highly recommend "The Albany Depot" to readers interested in the interplay of humor and social commentary. This play not only entertains but also prompts critical reflection on the quirks of human nature and societal expectations, making it a valuable addition to the canon of American theater.
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The Albany Depot : a Farce
Table of Contents
By W. D. Howells
(THE ACTION PASSES IN BOSTON)
I. MR. AND MRS. EDWARD ROBERTS; THE CHOREWOMAN
II. ROBERTS AND WILLIS CAMPBELL
III. THE McILHENYS, ROBERTS, AND CAMPBELL
IV. ROBERTS AND CAMPBELL
V. MRS. ROBERTS, MRS. CAMPBELL, ROBERTS, AND CAMPBELL; THEN THE COOK AND McILHENY
I. MR. AND MRS. EDWARD ROBERTS; THE CHOREWOMAN
Mrs. Roberts, with many proofs of an afternoon’s shopping in her hands and arms, appears at the door of the ladies’ room, opening from the public hall, and studies the interior with a searching gaze, which develops a few suburban shoppers scattered over the settees, with their bags and packages, and two or three old ladies in the rocking-chairs. The Chorewoman is going about with a Saturday afternoon pail and mop, and profiting by the disoccupation of the place in the hour between the departures of two great expresses, to wipe up the floor. She passes near the door where Mrs. Roberts is standing, and Mrs. Roberts appeals to her in the anxiety which her failure to detect the object of her search has awakened: “Oh, I was just looking for my husband. He was to meet me here at ten minutes past three; but there don’t seem to be any gentlemen.”
The Chorewoman: “Mem?”
Mrs. Roberts: “I was just looking for my husband. He was to meet me here at ten minutes past three; but there don’t seem to be any gentlemen. You haven’t happened to notice—”
The Chorewoman: “There’s a gentleman over there beyant, readin’, that’s just come in. He seemed to be lukun’ for somebody.” She applies the mop to the floor close to Mrs. Roberts’s skirts.
Mrs. Roberts, bending to the right and to the left, and then, by standing on tiptoe, catching sight of a hat round a pillar: “Then it’s Mr. Roberts, of course. I’ll just go right over to him. Thank you ever so much. Don’t disturb yourself!” She picks her way round the area of damp left by the mop, and approaches the hat from behind. “It is you, Edward! What a horrid idea I had! I was just going to touch your hat from behind, for fun; but I kept myself from it in time.”
Roberts, looking up with a dazed air from the magazine in his hand: “Why, what would have happened?”
Mrs. Roberts: “Oh, you know it mightn’t have been you.”
Roberts: “But it was I.”
