Artist Man and the Mother Woman, The (Modern Plays) - Softcover

This new work more than confirms the promise of one of the freshest, most fearless and taboo-busting voices to be heard anywhere right now . . . both scabrously funny and damningly bleak. -- Neil Cooper * The Herald, Scotland * If its theatrical power, cultural boldness, and dark, skewed poetry are harbingers of things to come, then we can expect exciting times . . . full of razor-sharp observation about a small-town world dominated by low-level domestic affluence . . . a triumph of brave, high-risk writing -- Joyce McMillan * Scotsman * [Pearson] writes in a soft Doric, which teases with a sensual cadence but allows a cutting Anglo-Saxon vocabulary to intrude with barely a ripple . . . Pearson has plenty to say about sheltered innocence and . . . has created a credible dissection of mid-life crisis. -- Thom Dibdin * The Stage * Bold and unsettling . . . Pearson's rugged yet terse Doric text deftly conveys character and emotion with a few simple turns of phrase, seemingly casually thrown together but beautifully crafted. There are plenty of killer lines that almost bring the house down, but there's also a searing poetry to it all . . . the way Pearson neatly balances mythic universality with an endearing localness makes the production at once hilarious and appalling. -- David Kettle * The Edinburgh Reporter * Brilliantly written . . . she slowly, slowly shifts the tone from couthie to creepy to the shocking and sobering denouement -- Irene Brown * Edinburgh Guide * Pearson's language is rhythmic and easy on the ear, generating an inviting and almost restful quality which clashes against the disturbing nature of the play . . It is subtly profound and intricate playwriting -- Andrew Latimer * TV Bomb * Pearson gives us grim human behaviour aplenty, but offsets it with toe-curlingly black comedy and an air of heightened weirdness ... Pearson's universe is compelling, yet at one remove from our own. The play has a captivating internal logic -- Mark Fisher * Guardian *

How my wee boy, as naive and pastey as he is, could get a grown woman tae go weak at the knees, screaming, as it appears you wis last night. When he's nae so much as accidently brushed up against a wifie afore, and there's nae internet or dirty magazines in the hoose tae speak o. And I ken, I've checked under his mattress. Nut, nae contact wi anither female in the world. Oh. 'Cept his mammy o course. 'Cept his mammy. Geoffrey Buncher is an art teacher. Until now his only meaningful relationship has been with his mother, Edie, who doesn't want her 'wee man growing up too fast'. But when one day he reads in the newspaper that he's working in amongst the top ten sexiest professions, he decides to advertise in the local papers for a wife. Straying outside of his comfortable existence where his mother continues to buy her middle-aged son's Ribena, Geoffrey enters a frightening world of adulthood and female companionship that he struggles to adjust to. Attraction manifests itself in warped and disturbing ways and leads to a terrifying conclusion. Written in Morna Pearson's trademark 'lurid, post-modern Doric' (Scotsman), and with hints of Joe Orton and Harold Pinter, The Artist Man and the Mother Woman is a wickedly funny, deceptively simple, surreal portrait of a spectacularly dysfunctional relationship. This world premiere was staged by the Traverse Theatre Company in the Traverse One space between 30 October and 17 November 2012, directed by Orla O'Loughlin.