At the very least, it shows an appreciation for The Two Cultures. It's not possible to reconcile certain generalizations about science and art- that is, one can write about science, but it's not easy to make accurate claims without being an expert, and vice versa- one can try to write a poetry from the perspective of a doctor, but it might sound like bad poetry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKpYBStDLVA
Of course there are some really talented writers and scientists.
There's a brilliant theatrical moment that neither reading nor listening to this play can ever quite re-create. In the final act, while characters from both time-periods are sharing the stage, Augustus/Gus (the younger brother in both time-periods, played by the same actor) comes in the door, and for a moment you don't know which century he's in.
This play is one of my go-tos for an example of what theatre can do that film and television cannot. Because theatre depends on the audience's imagination to create its reality (more so, or at least differently, than film), more than one reality can be simultaneously present, and time and space and distance can be collapsed.
I had the immense privilege, for a few years, of teaching this play to classes of university students. (I'm still somewhat proud of the lecture I devised, with maths and pictures, illustrating iteration -- and of the gasps it invariably got when the graphs got colored in, and the Mandelbrot Set leapt off the screen in all its infinite colourful delight.)
Reading and understanding the play then spring-boarded the individual research project and paper that these students were required to write. What I appreciated most about Arcadia was that it provided an almost infinite scope for students to bring their own interests to bear. The only rule was that whatever they did had to, in some way, give a reader a deeper understanding of the play, and/or the world(s) in which it was set. Some highlights:
- The fashion-design student who did a deep dive into early-nineteenth century clothing trends, and explained why Lady Croom should be wearing this in the first act, but that in the second. She got extra marks for submitting swatches she'd hand-stitched to illustrate some kind of revolutionary technique that reached England around that time.
- The "edgy" students who wanted to write something about Sex. I think they got excited about the thought that I'd shoot them down. In the end they usually wrote fairly boring papers about adultery rates, or sexual education.
- A gun nut (I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he stormed the Capitol, or went off-grid and ended up being besieged by the FBI; you know the type), who wrote a creepy-but-fascinating paper about the ballistic properties of dueling pistols, and the expected survival rates of duels conducted at 7 paces, 10 paces, 12 paces, and so forth.
- The "non-traditional" (read, slightly older) student who ran her own franchised dog-walking and training business -- I'm pretty sure she made a lot more money than I did, and really hope that Wag, and the like, didn't drive her out of business -- who researched how hunting dogs were used and trained in the early 19th century.
- Biology majors who wrote about various aspects of population dynamics, and either confirmed or dismantled Valentine's assumption that game books were a valid source of data. After a while I started giving them (anonymized) former students' papers with the opposite view-point to critique.
- LOTS of comp-sci and maths majors (I think either their professors or previous generations of students took to recommending my class) to whom my direction in tutorials invariably reversed Septimus: I'm not going to "give this an alpha in blind faith", though I'm sure your equations / program checks out. Now, explain it in words so a Humanities guy like me can understand.
If there was an online course/lecture version of this, I'd totally sign up/watch it. It's a great play (generally Adore what Stoppard wrote, in all their variety), and I'm sure most of it went whoosh over my head. The projects sound very interesting too, miss a bit the uni environment when people are forced to think more creatively - learning on my own it's a lot harder to kick that into gear. :)
The bit that usually went "whoosh" over my students' heads was what happened to the Regency characters following the end of the play. You kind of have to put it together from clues dropped throughout:
- On the evening of her sixteenth birthday Septimus and Thomasina dance
- They kiss
- She invites him to her room, to de-flower (ugh, awful word) her
(This is where the play ends)
- Thomasina leaves a candle burning, waiting for him to go to her
- He doesn't
- The candle catches the house on fire
- She burns to death
So, poor Septimus is left in an awful mental / moral position, where by doing the "right" thing, and not taking (awful word again) his pupil's virginity, he's accidentally caused her death. He goes (possibly) mad, and spends _the rest of his life_ living in the fake hermitage, running the iterations of Thomasina's algorithm by hand.
It's so beautifully tragic, and Stoppard leaves it there as a trail of breadcrumbs for his readers / audience to suss out on their own. I love it.
When I got out of the education game the Online Everything push was just beginning. I'm kind of glad I missed it, to be frank. As techy as I am, as a teacher I really grooved on the immediate, in-person nature of a classroom environment. I never put any of my classes online, and (though not taking anything away from those who have found success doing it) have no desire to teach like that.
I saw this at its first run at The National Theatre in 1993. I certainly enjoyed it a lot but even at fifteen my feeling was that it was a kind of imaginative con job making people think they had understood something complex when in fact one came away understanding nothing at all, but having enjoyed a good story and some beautiful but empty analogies.
> It feels as though Stoppard read James Gleick's Chaos (or a similar popular text), misunderstood it, forgot half of it, and then wrote the play on this basis of what remained.
If I might offer a different view, he did read Chaos, understood it well, and wrote a masterpiece that connects different strands of science to each other and to broader themes of culture and history. There’s no accounting for taste, and if you don’t like the play, no one can make you, but on the science he is always correct. If you’re interested in knowing more, I recommend Hermione Lee’s deep take on Arcadia in her new biography, Tom Stoppard: A Life.
Okay but I think that if James Gleick made a new HN profile just to respond to a quote of a comment by the user 'nostalgebraist' on 'Good Reads' he might read the actual comment he was responding to and realize that it had nothing to do with Tom Stoppard.
The attempt to apply science to a plot a story or theme of art reminds me of the https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bogdanov_affair
At the very least, it shows an appreciation for The Two Cultures. It's not possible to reconcile certain generalizations about science and art- that is, one can write about science, but it's not easy to make accurate claims without being an expert, and vice versa- one can try to write a poetry from the perspective of a doctor, but it might sound like bad poetry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKpYBStDLVA
Of course there are some really talented writers and scientists.