The Female of the Species

Joanna Murray-Smith

• Publisher: Currency Press
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781760626853
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

Thirty years ago Margot Mason, pioneer of the 1970s Women's Liberation movement and fearless academic, wrote her groundbreaking work and numerous best-sellers followed. Now she has writer's block. Molly, an unannounced visitor and committed fan of Margot and her work, offers a potential solution—until Molly produces a gun and calmly informs Margot that she intends to kill her because she blames her for warping her mother's mind and ruining her life with her hit book The Cerebral Vagina.Joanna Murray-Smith's deliciously wicked comedy deftly walks the tightrope between satire and farce proving the female of the species is not only deadlier, but funnier than the male.This latest gem from the pen of one of Australia's most outstanding playwrights was inspired by Germaine Greer's experience of being held captive in her country house in Essex in 2000.

MARGOT MASON, an attractive late middle-aged woman, elegantly and casually dressed, wanders around the study speaking on her cordless phone. On her desk are her laptop and a copy of her famous book The Cerebral Vagina. MARGOT is imperious, theatrical and a show-off, but there are signs here of a certain faltering.

MARGOT: Oh, fuck off! No, you fuck off! You are the reason people say the publishing industry has gone to pot. You and your Feng Shui for Beginners! I mean, for Christ’s sake, Theo, whatever happened to learned memoirs by men of letters? What ever happened to men of letters…? Oh, I see. They’re all writing Feng Shui for Beginners… And what was that I heard from a little birdie: Eddie Murphy, Man or Myth? This from a publishing house that once made its name on the Dialectical Definitive in Gender Relations. How do you sleep at night…? No, no I’m working hard. [Lolling, enervated, on the daybed] I’m working very hard… Stop worrying! I am working hard, it’s just taking a little longer than I thought… Haven’t you got some little hack scribbling chick-lit from some Irish garret? Shopping. Sex. Men are hopeless. ‘Juggling’. Honestly, if I hear that word one more time. Fucking juggling. Find someone else to fix the company’s woes… I am working, I told you. [Ingeniously and casually divesting herself of her bra as she talks without taking anything else off] You’ll get it when you get it… Well, that’s your problem… No, that’s your problem… Well, it’s just not ‘flowing’… [The bra comes free and she flings it aside.] I’m not sure why not… It’s hard to put into words… Yes, even for me. [Beat. Slightly trepidatious] There’s this little concept that keeps popping up, Theo: stagnation. There’s just a tiny, tiny flicker of concern that finally I’m… Well—I’m bored by the sound of my own voice. Ridiculous, I know… Of course, it’s absurd. Who’s more interesting than me? Who’s ever been more interesting than me…? Exactly. I’ll be in the city on Thursday… Well, is that any of your business…? All right, a teeny-weeny oil I’m interested in. Didn’t sell at Sotheby’s… very pretty… very very pretty and the possibility of picking it up for a song… Fine. I’ll stop by the office and we can go on from there. And this time don’t take me anywhere cheap and ethnic. Hello?

She jiggles the buttons on the phone. Dead.

Hello…? Hel–llo? For God’s sake.

She hangs up and walks over to her desk, peering at her open lap-top. She sits down and looks over what she’s been writing. As she thinks of titles, she types them, regarding them on the screen.

The Dialectical Experiment of the Patriarchal Paradigm. Who the fuck is going to buy that? [Thinking] It’s got to be sexy. Mmm… Something dignified, yet au courant. Sex, Death and… no, The Feminine something, The Feminine… no… Got to get shopping in there somehow, or stilettos or lipstick… Perhaps something that enters the lexicon, some new coining: Clitorism! With an exclamation mark. The Utopian Fallopian? No. No. My God, woman, think! If I could only get the title, the rest would follow! Something simple—

MOLLY: The Female of the Species.

MOLLY has entered through the French doors, a young woman somewhat kookily dressed, carrying a shopping bag. MARGOT gives a tiny glance, but is intent on seeing the title on her screen, typing it in immediately. She is captivated by the task at hand.

MARGOT: The Female of the Species. Not bad.

MOLLY: I’m good with words.

MARGOT: The Female of the Species. [Thinking] Surely it’s been used?

MOLLY: Sometim...