As
with A.A. Milne's first novel (of sorts), Lovers in London, reviewed here, the mere fact of
this rare play's being available once again is welcome news. It's not
included in the various collections which regularly crop up in
secondhand bookshops, and I'd been searching for a copy for quite some time. Before the publication of Anne Thwaite's biography of Milne I only recall coming across a single mention of it, in a history of theatre published in the 1930s. (For those who don't know, Milne had a
considerable reputation as a playwright and much else before his
children's books overshadowed all those other achievements.)
That
said, if you're already familiar with his work for the theatre there
will be little here to surprise you: a wife, presumed to have divorced
her husband, suddenly reappears as he is on the verge of marrying a
somewhat more stolid partner. Once, long ago, I embarked on a dissertation on Milne's plays but my tutor was not terribly encouraging, making a humorous remark about being confused about which missing spouse featured in which play; in the end I went with Tennessee Williams but still slightly regret it.
Being Milne there are, of course, amusing lines in Sarah Simple - though the digs at the pretentions of a younger generation (a nephew and niece are hanging around during the summer holidays) don't seem particularly chuckleworthy, on the page at least; I'm guessing that it played better than it reads.
According to Mrs Thwaite's highly recommended book Sarah Simple was written in 1932 but not staged until 1937; A.R. Whatmore played the husband and Milne's close friend Leonora Corbett the reappearing wife of the title. She - Mrs T - quotes a "telling sentence" from the review in The Times: "When there is nothing whatever to say, no one knows better than Mr Milne how to say it"; she also quotes J.C. Trewin, who recalls that "Milne was then quite out of fashion. It was the essence of the old Punch [the magazine in which he had first made a name for himself] transferred to the stage." That seems a fair assessment in this case: some of his other theatre might have had an underlying seriousness of purpose, however disguised by surface sparkle; this plainly doesn't. In the Telegraph, Milne's friend and neighbour, W.A. Darlington may have called the dialogue "so beautifully turned that it almost speaks itself" but in his book on Milne's work Thomas Burnett Swann declared:
The ease of the dialogue cannot conceal the inanity of the characters or the foolishness which passes for a plot.
This might not be the best introduction, then, to Milne the playwright if you are seeking to make a case for his relevance today but it's still an enjoyable read. As the work is now, presumably, public domain there is probably more than one edition; the one I read was produced by Hassell Street Press, published in 2021, and appears to be a straightforward photocopy or scan of a library copy, complete with the usual markings, of the 1940 Samuel French acting edition. At the time of writing this no-frills item is being offered for around £18-20 so if another company brings out a cheaper copy it might be worth investigation.
Incidentally, I don't know whether or not the Finborough will be bringing out a new edition of The Truth About Blayds, but secondhand copies of a collection in which it appears, alongside The Great Broxopp and The Dover Road, ought to be easy to find.
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