Notes from a Small Island E-Book

Bill Bryson

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 127

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

'So, if you Americans already have cornflakes and Woolworths, what brings you to England?' It's 1973, and a young man from Des Moines, Iowa, has arrived on the ferry at Dover. He intends to conquer the whole of the island, like Caesar attempted before him. But Caesar didn't have to deal with counterpanes, kippers, Cadbury's Curly Wurlies, or Mrs Smegma the landlady's eccentric house rules. As Bill travels the length and breadth of Britain, through villages with names like Titsey and Little Dribbling, something strange starts to happen. Can it be true? Is he really starting to feel at home? Bill Bryson's smash-hit memoir Notes from a Small Island spent three years in The Sunday Times bestseller list, sold over two million copies, and was voted the book which best represents the UK. Tim Whitnall's hilarious stage adaptation was first produced at the Watermill Theatre, Newbury, in 2023. Written for an ensemble cast of seven (but suitable for a cast of dozens), it will appeal to amateur drama groups as a glorious celebration of one of the nation's most beloved books, and a brilliant dissection of the enduring quirks of our small island.

Leseprobe

Bill Bryson

NOTES FROMA SMALL ISLAND

Valiantly re-imagined for the stage by

Tim Whitnall

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Introduction

Original Production Details

Dedication

Characters

Notes from a Small Island

About the Authors

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Notes from Notes…An introduction by Tim Whitnall, adapter

In 2018, the producer Simon Friend asked me if I fancied adapting Bill Bryson’s best-selling travelogue Notes from a Small Island for the stage. Having jumped at the opportunity, I soon realised that I faced quite a challenge. The book recounts a seven-week-long road trip stretching some eight hundred miles, encompassing almost fifty locations, and introducing its narrator to a raft of colourful characters. One tenet of Greek theatre decrees that a drama should play out in a single location, in real time, employing a minimum of characters. So much for idealism.

Compounding the challenge, particularly for our cast, director, designer and creative team, the UK would be recreated on a stage measuring twenty square metres, its sixty-five million inhabitants represented by seven actors – a whopping 0.00001% of our population. Noting the absence of a subplot, the non-existence of an antagonist and not much in the way of inciting incident, I thought to myself: ‘If the book flies in the face of dramatic convention, then perhaps the play could too.’

Galvanised by that epiphany – and the assurances from everyone involved that they relished their respective creative challenges – I set off on my own odyssey, retracing Bill Bryson’s footsteps with copies of Notes and its enchanting sequel, The Road to Little Dribbling: More Notes from a Small Island, keeping me company.

Having had the pleasure of watching the original production come to life, I think a keyword of encouragement to anyone mounting their own production would be ‘inventiveness’: make the play your own; bring to it your own sense of what it means to be British. Perhaps you’ve been stuck in a railway carriage with a keen trainspotter. Maybe you once stayed in a guest house ruled with a rod of iron by its proud landlady? What did they look or sound like? How did they make you feel?

Any time, any place, anything, anyone represented in the play (I sound like a commercial for a certain vermouth) is open to interpretation, with so many of its people, places, experiences and idiosyncrasies being recognisable to both Britons and Anglophile (or even -phobic!) foreigners.

I was careful to give each of our seven actors a fair crack of the whip, allowing them to play to their considerable strengths, but it may be that other productions could benefit from a slightly larger – certainly not smaller! – dramatis personae. The knack, as it so often is, lies in the play’s mixing and matching. (I must confess that I had to use a spreadsheet to ensure Cynthia could double as a picket in the Wapping dispute or ascertain whether Sir David Attenborough was comfortable reappearing shortly afterwards as a drinker with a Glaswegian accent.) Being creative with casting brings a diversity which I think represents the strength and beauty of this piece. I love the idea of the characters in Notes differing from production to production, evoking an even broader panorama of ‘Brits everywhere’.

Similarly, my stage directions regarding music, sound effects and the use of projection are merely suggestions (unless directly referred to in the dialogue). If there’s a sound or an image, a prop or an object that might prove a better fit, I’d warmly welcome its inclusion – subject to copyright permissions, of course.

Finally, the key to propelling Notes forward lies in its transitions. Like the book, the play also oozes a sense of motion; never settling in one spot for long and creating an impression of time passing (or ‘leaking’, as Bill would have it). The original designer, Katie Lias, came up with an ingenious device whereby our set and scenery changes formed a visible part of the action, the actors themselves executing them in full view. Benches swivelled to become a seafront shelter; a vertical ‘flat’ depicting a pub wall could be artfully angled to turn into a telephone box; a dining-room table doubled as the driver’s cabin of a bus. Imagining and staging the various moves transporting Bill from location to location offer endless possibilities.

At the initial readthrough of the play, I told the cast and crew that I’d hoped they’d enjoy their ‘road trip’ as much as I had enjoyed adapting it. Likewise, I would urge anyone presenting a future outing of Notes from a Small Island to have fun with the transitions, embrace the sheer amount of locations and characters, and celebrate the rich diversity of this green and pleasant land. Bill Bryson certainly did.

Notes from a Small Island was first performed at the Watermill Theatre, Newbury, on 3 February 2023, with the following cast:

LANDLADY/CYNTHIA BILLEN/

Bryony Corrigan

TEA-ROOM OWNER/

SOFT-PORN ACTRESS/

TUBE ANNOUNCER/

RHEA/WI WOMAN 2/

PICKET 2/GEORDIE 3/

A CAPELLA CHORUS/

BUILDER/ESTATE AGENT/

UNIVERSITY DON 1/

NATIONAL TRUST GUIDE/GOSSIP

BILL BRYSON

Mark Hadfield

MRS SMEGMA/TOWNSWOMEN’S

Wendy Nottingham

GUILD WOMAN/HR MANAGER/

COCKNEY WOMAN/A CAPELLA

CHORUS/BEACH-HUT WOMAN/

UNIVERSITY CHALLENGE

CONTESTANT 3/TOWN PLANNER/

MYFANWY/PUB LANDLADY

YVONNE BUNN/USHERETTE/

Anne Odeke

STATION ANNOUNCER/RAINDROP/

BUFF/WI WOMAN 1/TV REPORTER/

GEORDIE 1/YOUNG WOMAN/A CAPELLA

CHORUS/HOTEL RECEPTIONIST/

ENGLISH HERITAGE GUIDE/WAITRESS/

UNIVERSITY CHALLENGE CONTESTANT 1

THE COLONEL/BUSINESSMAN/

Steven Pinder

MR SMITHSON/OLDER SUB-EDITOR/

DAVID HOPKINSON/PICKET 3/FARMER/

OLD MAN/DR SAMUEL JOHNSON/A CAPELLA

CHORUS/ABERDONIAN/UNIVERSITY DON 2/

GOD/STATIONMASTER

RICHARD/SOFT-PORN ACTOR/

Akshay Sharan

BR GUARD/CASPIAN/

MALE PATIENT/PICKET 1/

GEORDIE 2/FERRY STEWARD/

YOUNG MAN/SECURITY GUARD 1/

A CAPELLA CHORUS/FAIRGROUND

BARKER/UNIVERSITY CHALLENGE

CONTESTANT 2/BUILDER/

BUS DRIVER/VODAFONE MAN/

TRAINSPOTTER/ARCHITECT/

ROBERT BURNS/DRINKER 2

MOVIE TRAILER ANNOUNCER/

Hayden Wood

PUBLICAN/GUITARIST/CABBIE/

BOBBY/NEWSPAPER SELLER/

HARRY/SNOOTY SUB-EDITOR/

VINCE OF THE WIRE ROOM/

GEORDIE 4/SECURITY GUARD 2/

A CAPELLA CHORUS/SIR DAVID

ATTENBOROUGH/BEACH-HUT MAN/

HOTELIER/UNIVERSITY CHALLENGE

CONTESTANT 4/DRINKER 1/COMEDIAN

Director

Paul Hart

Designer

Katie Lias

Lighting Designer

Ali Hunter

Sound Designer

Ed Lewis

Projection Designer

George Reeve

Assistant Director

Sibylla Archdale

Kalid

Production Manager

Nick Flintoff

Head of Wardrobe

Emily Barratt

Wardrobe Assistant

Ros Kitson

Dresser

Kezia Pullinger

Company Stage Manager

Cat Pewsey

Deputy Stage Manager

Claire Litton

Assistant Stage Manager

Beth Riley

Natalie Toney

Head of Technical

Thom Townsend

Technical Crew

Katie Crump

Ryan Tate

Keith Anker

Stuart Thompson

Chris Moore

Nick Harrison

Dialect Coach

Elspeth Morrison

Audio Description

Colin Johnson

Set Construction

TIN SHED Scenery

Rehearsal and Production Photographer

Marc Brenner

With thanks to Grace Cowie in the National Theatre Armoury Department.

Produced in association with Simon Friend Entertainment.

For F.G., who loved his small island

Characters

The play is performed by a diverse, versatile ensemble cast of seven who share the following roles between them:

BILL BRYSON

MOVIE TRAILER

SNOOTY SUB

ANNOUNCER

WI WOMAN 1

LANDLADY

TOWNSWOMEN’S GUILD

MRS SMEGMA

WOMAN

THE COLONEL

WI WOMAN 2

RICHARD

HR MANAGER

YVONNE BUNN

VINCE OF THE WIRE

PUBLICAN

ROOM

TEA-ROOM OWNER

DAVID ROBINSON

PORN ACTRESS, voice-over

TV REPORTER

PORN ACTOR, voice-over

PICKET (x 3)

USHERETTE

FARMER

STATION ANNOUNCER,

GEORDIE (x 4)

voice-over

FERRY STEWARD

BR GUARD

NEWSPAPER SELLER

CABBIE

YOUNG WOMAN

BUSINESSMAN

OLD MAN

CASPIAN

YOUNG MAN

RAINDROP

DR SAMUEL JOHNSON

TUBE ANNOUNCER,

SECURITY GUARD 1

voice-over

SECURITY GUARD 2

BOBBY

COCKNEY WOMAN

BUFF

A CAPELLA CHORUS

RHEA

(x 4)

MR SMITHSON

ESTATE AGENT

PATIENT

RECEPTIONIST

CYNTHIA BILLEN

BUS DRIVER

HARRY

BEACH-HUT WOMAN

OLDER SUB

BEACH-HUT MAN

FAIRGROUND BARKER

ARCHITECT

ENGLISH HERITAGE

BLENHEIM PALACE

GUIDE

HERITAGE TRUST

SIR DAVID

GUIDE

ATTENBOROUGH

SINGERS (x 4)

BUILDER

GOD, voice-over

WAITRESS

VODAFONE MAN

HOTELIER

TRAINSPOTTER

UK UNIVERSITY

STATIONMASTER

CHALLENGE

MYFANWY

CONTESTANTS (x 4)

GOSSIP

US UNIVERSITY

ROBERT BURNS

CHALLENGE

ABERDONIAN

CONTESTANTS (x 4)

DRINKER 1

OXFORD DON 1

DRINKER 2

OXFORD DON 2

PUB LANDLADY

TOWN PLANNER

COMEDIAN

Setting/Locations

The main body of the drama takes place between 1973 and 1994/5, our action moving forwards and backwards within that timeframe.

Bill’s road trip encompasses myriad locales and locations, each identified within our stage directions.

ACT ONE

Scene One

Music: 1951 version of ‘Wandering Star’.

Silhouetted against an amber sunset, a figure in a Stetson, neckerchief and cowboy boots faces us: the BILL BRYSON of his own fantasies – gunslinger, matinee idol and superhero.

Downstage: a 1950s American MOVIE TRAILER ANNOUNCER in jacket and tie – hair Brilliantined – stands at a microphone, reading from a script.

ANNOUNCER. ‘He came from Des Moines, Iowa. Somebody had to. William McGuire Bryson: mild-mannered paperboy. Mild-mannered, that is, until any unsuspecting moron incurring his displeasure: babysitters, Richard Nixon, old people wanting a kiss would all find themselves vaporised in a flash with one look from the eyeballs of – ’

BILL. Whoa! Hold it right there!

Music stops abruptly.

BILL turns to reveal the superhero embellishments to his outfit: mask, cape, rapier and whip. The centrepiece of his garb is a green jersey emblazoned with a thunderbolt of golden satin.

How could anyone – let alone a moron – ‘find themselves vaporised’? I’m guessing they wouldn’t know too much about it.

ANNOUNCER. You think I get paid to proofread?

BILL. There’s also the music.

ANNOUNCER (under breath). He didn’t like the music.

BILL. You see, as a kid I imagined myself as the kind of superhero I read about in comic books or watched in B-movies. The Lone Ranger fought for law and order, Roy Rogers and Trigger battled those evil communists, whilst Batman and Robin looked as if they were on their way to a gay Mardi Gras. I obliterated morons.

Sighing, the ANNOUNCER nods offstage-right, cueing music: ‘RKO-style/B-movie theme’.

That’s more like it. Pray continue.

ANNOUNCER. Ahem. (Reads.) ‘Originally from the Planet Electro in the distant galaxy of Zizz, the chosen one travelled here in a silver rocket-ship, touching down in Des Moines in the earth year 1951, placed amidst an innocuous American family who were hypnotised into believing “little Billy Bryson” was one of their own.’ (Aside, to BILL.) How are we doing?

BILL. Any speed bumps, I’ll let you know.

ANNOUNCER (reads). ‘To Earthlings he was merely the son of Mary and Bill Bryson Sr, two hard-working journalists, quite unaware that their wunderkind was in actual fact the scourge of morons: the stupendously incredible Thunderbolt Kid!’

BILL. Aw, come on. You gotta be kidding?

Music stops again.

BILL indignantly stomps downstage.

‘Stupendously incredible’? It’s tautological.

ANNOUNCER. Taught-o-what?

BILL. My ThunderVision – trademark registered 1951 – can either be stupendous or incredible.

ANNOUNCER. I’ll pass it on to the playwright.

BILL. I could always carbonise them with my ThunderVision?

ANNOUNCER gulps.

I’m kidding! (Snatches script; reading.) ‘In 1973, the Kid’s Thunder Antennae picked up the call to visit a small island in the middle of the Atlantic storm belt whose citizens had just voted to join an organisation known as the European Economic Community; whose all-powerful Stock Exchange was about to admit women for the first time; and whose evil heads of state were set to impose a pernicious duty known as Value Added Tax…’

Removing his mask, he returns the script to the ANNOUNCER.

You’d better drive from here, I’ve gotta get changed. This is a ridiculous outfit for a grown man to be wearing, right? Even by 1973 standards.

ANNOUNCER. I didn’t like to say.

BILL. In fact, why don’t we ditch the whole superhero device?

ANNOUNCER. Really? What about me?

BILL. I’m sure we can find something for you in Act Two.

ANNOUNCER. So the whole ‘1950s Middle America’ thing –

BILL. Nothing more than a ruse to get us going. (To audience.) Oh, and if in the unlikely event any of you might want to take the whole ‘1950s Middle America’ thing any further, I did actually write a memoir of my childhood in 2003.

ANNOUNCER. If we’re done with the flagrant plugs, we ought to get back to the story.

BILL. You’re right. Some of these good people have second homes to go to.

Glances offstage-right.

Cue the seagulls.

SFX: seagulls.

And don’t forget the distant but clearly audible foghorn.

SFX: foghorn. BILL exits.

ANNOUNCER (reads). ‘And so, on that chill, foggy night of March 20th 1973, Bill Bryson stepped aboard the ferry from Calais to Dover, looking forward to meeting a people and its customs, weather systems and dietary peculiarities the like of which he’d never known. This was to be an odyssey that would change his life forever…’

Music: ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ – Vera Lynn.

Scene Two

Marine Parade, Dover – Midnight.

SFX: cars/lorries/chatter.

ANNOUNCER (reads). ‘In Dover, the terminal was aswarm with activity as cars and lorries poured forth, customs people performed their customary duties, and everyone headed for the London Road. Then, abruptly, all was silence. And stepping from the gangplank, our hero took his first tentative steps on English soil.’

Re-entering, BILL wears a cagoule, baseball cap and trainers, sporting a rucksack. He stares around at his unfamiliar surroundings, wide-eyed.

BILL. How wonderful –

ANNOUNCER (reads). ‘Bill thought to himself – ’

BILL. To have a whole English town entirely to myself.

ANNOUNCER (reads). ‘Looking around, he spotted the flickering light of a television filling the upstairs window of a guest house across the road. The path was pitch dark, and in his eagerness and unfamiliarity with British doorways…’

BILL trips clumsily on the step.

SFX: milk bottles smashing/cat screeching/sash window rising.

A LANDLADY’s voice rings out from the first floor.

LANDLADY. I’ve got a gun, you know!

BILL. A gun?!

LANDLADY. Fired in anger during the Mau Mau uprising.

BILL. By who? By you?

LANDLADY. By our Martin.

BILL. You don’t say?

LANDLADY. I do say. And he assures me it’s still in perfect working order. What do you want?

BILL. I’m looking for a room.

LANDLADY. Can’t help you. Sorry.

BILL. But, your sign says ‘vacancies’.

LANDLADY. My sign’s short-circulated. Damp in the dooberries.

BILL. So you do have rooms?

LANDLADY. I do, but I’m closed. You’ll have to try The Churchill on the front.

BILL. On the front of what?

SFX: window closing. Dejected, BILL strolls onwards.

(To audience.) The Churchill Hotel was sumptuous and well-lit. Through a window I spotted a few late-nighters keeping the bar open, as suave and as elegant as characters from a Noël Coward play. Their tariff would clearly be beyond my meagre budget.

Ambles on.

And then, a little further along Marine Parade, I spotted it…

Pulls up, delighted.

Sure, it was open to the elements and its bench was slatted and studded with bolts that would render the act of reclining abject torture, but it was roofed! Best of all, a Dover District Council seafront shelter was one joint I could afford!

He lies on the bench, deputising his rucksack for a pillow and drawing his jacket around him.

Don’t ask me how, but I drifted off into a long, cold night of mumbled dreams…

SFX: a clock chimes four.

Or so I’d thought…

He awakes with a gasp. Digging through his backpack he extracts/dons every warming item he can find: a scarf, woollen socks as mittens, and a pair of underpants that he puts on his head.