The purposes of this book are threefold: to examine the development of a single consuming idea or attitude in eight modern playwrights; to analyze the work of these writers in depth; and to suggest an approach to the modern drama as a whole. The undertaking is ambitious, and, no doubt, smacks of presumption. How can eight men adequately represent such a large and complicated manifestation as modern dramatic literature? How indeed can one attitude or idea suitably encompass the variety in the work of these eight alone? To justify my claim, I hope to demonstrate, during the course of this study, that the theme of revolt is sufficiently general and inclusive to merit this unusual emphasis: it is the current which runs through the majority of modern plays. Similarly, I hope to show how a playwright’s handling of this theme determines his approach to character, plot, diction, and style. If I can persuade the reader of this through reference to the writers I have included, he will then be able to see, I hope, how this method can be fruitfully applied to many playwrights not directly considered in these pages. The modern drama has hitherto been studied largely from the point of view of style — as a manifestation of Realism, Naturalism, Symbolism, Expressionism, etc. By treating the modern drama as an expression of revolt, I intend to illustrate how all these “isms” merely disguise the essential unity of this movement. For a movement it is, the most important modern dramatists being bound together by common assumptions and a common point of attack.
These assertions I must justify in the book. But here I must defend my choice of those eight writers included for special study: Ibsen, Strindberg, Shaw, Chekhov, Brecht, Pirandello, O’Neill, and (considered together with Artaud) Genet. Most of these names need no justification; but the list is partial; and there may be disappointment over the exclusion of this or that particular playwright. In anticipation of these objections, I should declare that my selection was guided partly by principle, partly by prejudice. I believe these eight dramatists to be the finest, most enduring writers in the field; and I was determined not to include any playwright who would not be read fifty years hence. There are those who may regret the omission of Sean O’Casey; but he has always struck me as an extremely overrated writer with two or three competent Naturalist plays to his credit, followed by a lot of ideological bloat and embarrassing bombast. Jean Giraudoux and Jean Anouilh are widely regarded, but it is no doubt a fault in me that I have never been able to respond very strongly to either: both strike me as gifted stylists with shallow points of view and fragile sensibilities. Albert Camus and Jean Paul Sartre are stimulating minds but indifferent dramatists; I have, therefore, exploited their ideas while ignoring their plays. Among American playwrights, Thornton Wilder, Arthur Miller, and Tennessee Williams all have enthusiastic partisans: I am not among them. There are a number of newer writers — especially Beckett, Ionesco, and Dürrenmatt — who strike me as very interesting, but none has yet completed a sufficiently various body of writing to be included in this book (though many are discussed in passing). I do regret that I was not able to consider the plays of Synge, Lorca, and Yeats. I admire all three writers excessively; but while I could probably justify their omission on the grounds that their work is not sufficiently ambitious or varied, the simple fact is that I omitted them for lack of space. If the interested reader sees the relevance of their work to the drama of revolt, then I have accomplished a major purpose of this book.
I wish to thank those who gave generously of their time and advice, especially during the early stages in the preparation of this manuscript: Eric Bentley, who prodded me into new areas of thought, George P. Elliott, who provoked me into new areas of feeling, Evert Sprinchorn, who opened up new areas of research, Stanley Burnshaw, who corrected my grammar. Whatever errors the book still contains, of course, are my own; but many errors were avoided with the help of these good men. I also wish to thank my students at Columbia College, who continue to be a source of intellectual stimulation to me, and who unwittingly helped to write this book. And I am indebted to the Guggenheim Foundation for a grant in 1961-1962, and to Columbia’s Council for Research in the Humanities for two grants in lieu of summer teaching. Finally, I wish to thank my stepson, Phillip, for permitting me to devote time to writing that otherwise would have been spent with him; and my dear wife, Norma, for her continuing support, encouragement, and love to one who was often morose, and discouraged at his labors.