The Times

And what happened when this distinguished novelist ...who is also their mother...wrote a play for them

PHOTOGRAPH BY ERICH HARTMANN "You're mean," Sally sang, and Barry answered, "You're mean." "You're a monster." "You're a monster." "You're awful." "You're awful." "I won't play with you." Something had gone terribly wrong with my play. As soon as it got into the hands of the children it altered. It became hideously clear that my poor tired mother and father were going to be the comedy relief. When the lines were read in a slightly exaggerated style, they became self-pitying and dreary. The witch and the enchanter had become the powerful central figures. Hansel and Gretel, that frightful pair, were regarded as sensi- , charming children, and everyone wanted to play every part. My little moral lesson about nice children had faded like yesterday's flowers. Worse, the children were so pleased with the spiteful little song that they wanted more songs, particularly a song for the witch to sing-Jannie rather fancied herself on stage belting out a solo number-and a song to close the play. My older son, who is by way of being a trumpet player, volunteered to write the music if I would write the words. My first efforts were rejected without discussion. It was then decided unanimously (my vote not counted) that the song the enchanter sings must be a real low-down blues, to be called That Mean Old Wizard Blues, and to open with the lines: "I want a rich witch, baby, no others need apply..." WHILE I sat there with my jaw hanging, the blues somehow got itself composed and firmly embedded in the family culture. I wrote a heartfelt little number called "What Wonderful Parents We've Been," for the mother and father, and Laurie set it to a comically lugubrious tune. I began to perceive why the plays written for children are so firmly held down to the I-am-Lafayette-a-gentleman-of-noble-birth kind of thing. I had been indulging myself in a little sardonic humor at the expense of parents and children and fairy tales, and the children had taken it into their own hands and-because parents and children and fairy tales are the stuff with which children deal so intimately-turned it into a statement of their own about the world and their place in it, and all the sardonic humor had become their own. They found a deep satisfaction in the wicked children and the whining parents, the selfish witch and the lazy enchanter, and to go with all of this they wanted the excitement of fast, heady music and a far-out drum. It got through to me even Continued on page 10 The author pets Toby, while her "bad" brood-Jannie, Barry, Laurie, and Sally-innocently look on.