It’s Valentines day tomorrow. I expect you’re wondering
about the poster for the play Tis Pity She's a Whore that I’ve selected to illustrate this post.
Well,
it’s like this … I write romantic suspense, so frightening readers, as well as
writing a love story, is part of the job. Last month I was talking about the
heart as a symbol of love, and the celebration of St Dwynwen’s day. But the
heart doesn't have to be about finding true love -- it can also have its dark
side – I'm thinking of another symbol, a heart pierced by an arrow. Maybe it's Cupid's arrow, but maybe it's not?
And what about a heart pierced by a dagger, a motif often seen in
traditional tattoos. A signifier of heartbreak?
The heart is at the centre of being human -- you don't
function long without one, unless you're a vampire -- so ripping the heart out
of something is very much bringing it to an end. A violent end.
I've been thinking about dark representations of the heart in plays and
books. As you do. All right, as I do! One of my favourite Shakespeare
quotations is from Much Ado About Nothing, where Beatrice, intent on revenge
for her disgraced cousin, expresses the bloodthirsty wish to eat Claudio's
heart in the marketplace. It is a
wonderful depiction of female frustration, grief and fury, one that many women
might identify with. Mary Stewart -- a
romantic suspense author that many romance writers cite as an early influence
-- takes that a gruesome step further in This Rough Magic -- I won't spoil
it by saying any more, if you haven't read the book. It's one of those
breathtaking moments when an author manages to horrify you and make you laugh,
all at the same time.
And what about Tis Pity -- it's the blackest of
Jacobean plays with the central theme of the passionate and unnatural love of a
brother for his sister, and a blood drenched coup de theatre at the end. My first recollection of seeing the play
performed was at the National Theatre, in London. Rupert Graves (now playing
Inspector Lestrade, in the Sherlock series) was Giovanni, the incestuous
brother. My overwhelming image from the performance is of him crossing the
stage, with his sister's heart on his dagger.
I was in the cheap seats, right in the front, and got the full
benefit. I knew it was probably only a sponge liberally dipped in stage blood,
but it didn’t look like it. My most
recent experience of the play was a production by Cheek By Jowl, at the Bristol Old Vic, hence the
poster. Modern dress, with a distinctly
vampire theme – a stunning production for the True Blood generation, which
included Giovanni, mentally well past the point of no return, sitting on the
bed, cradling his sister's bloody heart.
This one was even more realistic, but I knew it was coming, and it
fitted so well with the performance of claustrophobic horror that it became part of
the whole. And maybe I’ve got older and
more inured to these things?
So the heart isn't just a symbol of romance; it's got its black
side too.
Happy St Valentine's Day, and I sincerely hope that any you
receive on Thursday will be surrounded by love and flowers, not dripping down
your arms. Actually, that may have given
me an idea …
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