Friday, February 11, 2011

UK Scientists Say Fish Feel Pain

I'm not sure what this has to do with theatre, but it has something to do with writing, or at least my own writing and research, and maybe the writing and research of those who write about animals.  While doing research for a story I was writing (I wondered if a character who felt terrible about hurting a fish was justified in feeling so terrible) I read that UK scientists report that fish do indeed feel pain.  Alex Kirby from the BBC reports:

“The first conclusive evidence of pain perception in fish is said to have been found by UK scientists. […] This complements earlier findings that both birds and mammals can feel pain, and challenges assertions that fish are impervious to it. […] The scientists found sites in the heads of rainbow trout that responded to damaging stimuli.  They also found the fish showed marked reactions when exposed to harmful substances. […] The argument over whether fish feel pain has long been a subject of dispute between anglers and animal rights activists. […] “The research, by a team from the Roslin Institute and the University of Edinburgh, is published in Proceedings B of the Royal Society, the UK's national academy of science. […] The researchers, led by Dr Lynne Sneddon, say the ‘profound behavioural and physiological changes’ shown by the trout after exposure to noxious substances are comparable to those seen in higher mammals. […] They investigated the fish for the presence of nociceptors, sites that respond to tissue-damaging stimuli.”

The article says that studies indicate that fish have multiple sensitivity.  In order to test this, they had to do things to the fish that could cause pain.  While a lot of us might be uncomfortable with this idea, it might stop some of us from harming fish in the future:
“The researchers applied mechanical, thermal and chemical stimuli to the heads of anaesthetised fish and recorded their neural activity. […] Dr Sneddon said: ‘We found 58 receptors located on the face and head of the trout that responded to at least one of the stimuli. […] Of these, 22 could be classified as nociceptors in that they responded to mechanical pressure and were stimulated when heated above 40 Celsius. […] ‘Eighteen receptors also responded to chemical stimulation and can be defined as polymodal nociceptors.’ […] These polymodal receptors are the first to be found in fish, and resemble those in amphibians, birds and mammals, including humans. […] But mechanical thresholds were lower than those found in human skin, for example, perhaps because fish skin is relatively easily damaged.
But they had to “double check” (this involved further tests; if you’re squeamish, you might want to skip over this paragraph):
“The mere presence of nociception in an animal is not enough to prove that it feels pain, because its reaction may be a reflex. […] Proof requires demonstrating that the animal's behaviour is adversely affected by a potentially painful experience, and that these behavioural changes are not simple reflex responses. […] So the researchers injected bee venom or acetic acid into the lips of some of the trout, with control groups receiving saline solution injections or simply being handled. […] All the fish had been conditioned to feed at a ring in their tank, where they were collected for handling or injection. […] Dr Sneddon said: "Anomalous behaviours were exhibited by trout subjected to bee venom and acetic acid. […]” [Sneddon said] "Fish demonstrated a 'rocking' motion, strikingly similar to the kind of motion seen in stressed higher vertebrates like mammals. […] The trout injected with the acid were also observed to rub their lips onto the gravel in their tank and on the tank walls. These do not appear to be reflex responses.’
“The fish injected with venom and acid also took almost three times longer to resume feeding than the control groups. […] Dr Sneddon said the team's work ‘fulfils the criteria for animal pain’.”  
The team performed these studies on more than one type of fish:
“Previous work on fish had looked at the elasmobranchs, fish including sharks, skates and rays with cartilaginous skeletons, and at primitive vertebrates like the lamprey. […] Dr Sneddon said: ‘These studies did not conclusively show the presence of nociceptors. […] We believe our study is the first work with fish of the teleost family [those with bony skeletons], and the results may represent an evolutionary divergence between the teleost and elasmobranch lineages.’
Responses to this study varied.  While many say that the study shows evidence that fish feel pain and that fishing practices are cruel, some still do not believe that fish have the proper brains to feel pain:
“The Fish Veterinary Society described the research as ‘an interesting contribution to the debate’. Dawn Carr, director of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (Europe), said: ‘It's shocking that people will still go fishing for fun.’ […] For every cruel thing people do, there is a compassionate alternative. […] There are so many ways to enjoy the outdoors - we hope people would go hiking, camping, boating; any sort of sport that doesn't involve animal suffering would be preferable,’ she said. […] The organisation Compassion in World Farming called upon the UK Government to respond to the findings with legislation to improve the living conditions of fish living on fish farms. […] The UK's National Angling Alliance described the study's finding's as ‘surprising’. […] Dr Bruno Broughton, a fish biologist and NAA adviser, said: ‘I doubt that it will come as much of a shock to anglers to learn that fish have an elaborate system of sensory cells around their mouths... […] However, it is an entirely different matter to draw conclusions about the ability of fish to feel pain, a psychological experience for which they literally do not have the brains,’ he said. […] He quoted from a study by Professor James Rose of the University of Wyoming, US, in which it was found fish did not possess the necessary and specific regions of the brain, the neocortex.”
The fish doesn’t have a brain like that of a mammal or higher vertebrate, but the study showed pain-related behavior in fish.  This makes me think about fish a little more than I used to.  I once believed that a fish’s brain wasn’t complex enough, but now that I’ve read this, I’ve changed my mind.

Work Cited

Kirby, Alex.  “Fish Do Feel Pain, Scientists Say.”  BBC News. Wednesday, 30 April,
2003, 14:25 GMT 15:25 UK.  Web.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

My Genius Keeps Me Up At Night (Ten Minute Play, 2M, 2F)

By Mattie Roquel Rydalch

Presented at the University of Idaho's 24 Hour Play Festival, December 2010, directed by Rebecca Klump, with the following cast (in order of appearance):

LANNY: Lanny Langston
ADRIANA: Adriana Sanchez
SHANE: Shane Brown
LAURA: Laura Wickman


An apartment living room.  LANNY is pounding on the door.  ADRIANA enters.

LANNY
(offstage)
ADRIANAWAKEUPITBROKEITBROKEITBROKE!

ADRIANA
What?  Come in, Lanny, I think Shane left the door unlocked.

Lanny enters, freaking out bigtime.

LANNY
ITBROKEITBROKEITBROKE!

ADRIANA
It’s four in the morning!

LANNY
It BROKE!  My laptop, it broke.  I tried to save a file and it gave me the swirling circle cursor of death and it said its memory is gone and I need to print something by 7:30!  I need to borrow yours.

ADRIANA
Shane’s using it.  My new roommate.  He’s in college.  He has a paper due at nine.

LANNY
Then I have the priority because mine is due sooner!

SHANE enters.  He’s obviously been asleep.

SHANE
You woke me up, you loudies.  I heard you through my earplugs, even.

ADRIANA
Shane, this is Lanny, the neighbor downstairs.

LANNY
Hello, my laptop broke and I lost my work and I have to get my poem done by 7:30 because I met this girl and I really like her and I told her I was a poet but she doesn’t know I’m really only a novelist and I said I’d cook her breakfast and she could read my work, so I need Adriana’s laptop.

SHANE
Just tell her you’ll have to reschedule.

LANNY
I’ve already put it off four times.  Because I don’t really have a poem.  I wrote several.  I’ve been awake for 72 hours typing poems.  But every time I type a poem I start over.  Because the longer I’m awake, the more I realize how stupid I am.

ADRIANA
Well, the longer you’re awake, the stupider you get.  So go home and go to bed.

LANNY
I can’t.  I locked myself out of my apartment on purpose so you couldn’t make me go home without a laptop.  Only now I realize that even if you let me borrow one I’m still locked out.

ADRIANA
I guess you’ll have to crash here in the living room, then.

SHANE
No, nonono.  It’s my apartment, too, and I don’t want him here.

ADRIANA
You could let him borrow my laptop and you could get some sleep, couldn’t you?  You’d have an hour-and-a-half in the morning to finish your anti-consumerist research paper.

LANNY
Anti-consumerist?  I hate consumerism!

SHANE
Me, too!  Hey, uh—would you like to crash here for the night?

LANNY
I’d love it.

SHANE
I can’t let you borrow the laptop, but I’ve got something else you can use.  Hold on.

Shane exits.

ADRIANA
You guys made friends pretty fast.

LANNY
How can an artist resist an anti-consumerist?

Shane reenters with an old typewriter.

ADRIANA
What’s that?

SHANE
A doorstop.

ADRIANA
It’s out of ribbon.

SHANE
It leaves dents in the paper.  He can read the dents.

LANNY
Thanks.  You’re awesome.

SHANE
As are you.

Lanny sits down with the typewriter.  He can’t think.

LANNY
I can’t get any inspiration.

SHANE
Then invoke a muse or something.  I’m going back to my paper.

Shane exits.

LANNY
Um—how do you go about—invoking a muse?

ADRIANA
You can’t be serious.

LANNY
I’m desperate and it’s four AM.

ADRIANA
He was kidding.  There’s no such thing as a muse.  Unless you count real people who give you inspiration, in which case there’s also no such thing.

LANNY
Do you just—say “Come out and inspire me?”

ADRIANA
Lanny, I feel for you, but I’m really tired.  I’m going to bed.  You’ll be okay?

LANNY
Yeah.  Thank you so much for helping me.

ADRIANA
You’re welcome.  Good night.

Adriana exits.  Lanny can’t think.

LANNY
Uh—Come out and inspire me?  I guess?  Come out and inspire me!

LAURA, the genius, enters.

LANNY (cont.)
Whoa!

LAURA
Okay, here I am, you woke me up, this better be good or I’ll make it suck.

LANNY
Holy monkeys I’ve had too much caffeine.

LAURA
Well my butt itches.  Can’t have everything.

LANNY
You really don’t look like a muse.

LAURA
I’m not.  I’m a genius.

LANNY
Good for you.

LAURA
I’m your genius.  I live in the wall and inspire you.

LANNY
This isn’t even my apartment.

LAURA
Doesn’t matter.  You wanted me, you got me, so what can I do for you?

LANNY
This isn’t happening.

LAURA
I’m shocked, too.  You’ve never openly invoked me.  You don’t even know I exist.

LANNY
You can’t.  I can’t have a genius.  I’m a regular guy.

LAURA
Everybody has one.  Even stupid people.

LANNY
I’ll just—lie down until I stop seeing things.

Lanny lies down and starts to sleep.  Laura kicks him.

LANNY (cont.)
Ow!

LAURA
You have a poem to write and a chick to impress, so wake your butt up.

LANNY
You’re not real.  I’ll prove it.   Adriana!  Help!

Adriana and Shane enter.  Laura hides or darts offstage just before they can see her.

ADRIANA                                                             SHANE
Are you okay?                                                             What’s going on?

LANNY
There’s a genius and it came out of the wall!  It was a—a creature!  It lives in the wall!

SHANE
Whatever you’re on, I want some.  Not right now, but maybe—

LANNY
It’s real.  It kicked me!  I was just drifting off and it—

ADRIANA
You ate pizza at midnight again, didn’t you?  You always get weird dreams when you eat at Domino’s.

SHANE
(to Lanny)
Domino’s?  Get out.  Get out of here.  Now.  You’re crazy and you eat corporate food.

LANNY
But there’s really a creature!  Honest!

SHANE
Well, good luck with that, and good night.  In the morning you’ll remember this little psychotic episode and feel like the idiot you are.  I’m out.

Shane exits.

ADRIANA
Just lie down and go to sleep.  Forget the poem.  You’re more important.  Good night.  Get some rest.

Adriana exits.  Lanny lies down to sleep.  Laura comes back.

LAURA
Hey, lazybutt!  Get up!  Let’s write that poem!

LANNY
I can’t.  You being here is proof I can’t stay awake this long.

LAURA
GET UP OR I’LL FART IN YOUR FACE!

Lanny sits bolt upright. 

LAURA (cont.)
You invoked me.  So you’ve got me.  And I’m going to be your worst nightmare if you don’t use me.  Now park your butt at that dinosaur and let’s pound out a love poem.

Lanny sits at the typewriter.

LAURA (cont.)
Now, let’s see—you’re writing this for your date, so—start the poem with her eyes.

LANNY
That’s stupid.

LAURA
I’m only as smart as you are.  What do you see when you look into this poetry-loving breakfast-eater’s big baby blues?

LANNY
I—I’m not sure she has baby blues.  I’ve never looked.  Let me go to sleep.

LAURA
No.  You called me, so I’m going to give you ideas.

Laura waves her fingers at Lanny.

LAURA (cont.)
Good ones, bad ones, naughty ones…

LANNY
Aaugh!  There are too many of them AND I’M TOO TIRED!  HELP!

Shane enters.  He’s been asleep again.

SHANE
Hey.  You.  Crazy eccentric downstairs corporate pizza muncher!  Shut up.  I can’t think with you yelling.  Okay?

LANNY
Can’t you see it?  It’s right there!  The genius!

SHANE
ADRIANA!

Adriana enters.

SHANE (cont)
He’s really hallucinating, bad.  Can we get him a hotel?

LANNY
That might work.  As long as it’s a small, family-owned business.

SHANE
Who said anything about a hotel?  You can stay here, buddy.

LANNY
Thanks.  But my genius won’t let me go to bed.  I invoked it and it showed up!

LAURA
That’s my job! 

ADRIANA
I’ve got Nyquil in the bathroom.  I’ll get you some.

LAURA
Nyquil is no match for my creative power!

Adriana exits.

SHANE
I’ll—help her look.  Sit tight.

Shane exits.

LANNY
YOU’RE MAKING ME INSANE!

LAURA
Occupational hazard.  Type, doofus.

LANNY
Only if you go away.

Lanny sits down to type.

LAURA
Okay.  You said it.  You said it, so I have to do it.  But this isn’t fair.  I love you, Lanny.  You can’t stop me once you get me started.  I’m always going to be here.  I’m never going to go away.  Even if I make you sick, even if I make you hate yourself, you can’t get rid of me forever because I AM YOU.  I am the god within the self.  I AM THE SPIRIT OF INSPIRATION!   AND I WILL BE BACK!  I—I hope.

LANNY
You hope?

LAURA
Of course I hope!  I feel, I care, and I—I get frustrated.  In ancient times, people gave beings like me credit all the time, and they wrote to us, and—now, it’s—you just think all your ideas come from yourself.  You and just about every other human being.

Adriana and Shane enter.

SHANE
We finally found the Nyquil.

LANNY
Hang on.  I’m in the middle of something.

SHANE
Just drink it, okay?

LANNY
Hold on.
(to Laura)
I’m really sorry I’ve been an egotist.  You’re a good genius.  I’ve never met you until now, and I didn’t picture you to be this big of a butt, but you’ve helped me for years.

SHANE
He’s talking to it.

LANNY
(to Laura)
I owe you a lot.  But you need to let me go to sleep.

LAURA
You’ll fail to impress that girl tomorrow.

ADRIANA
Lanny, you need to go to sleep.  I care about you.  Forget that breakfast date.  It’s a stupid idea, and I know you’re not stupid, just tired.

LANNY
(to Laura)
She’s right.  You have to let me go to bed.

LAURA
All right.  But you called me here.  At least let me give you a little inspiration before I go.

LANNY
Okay.

LAURA
Ready?

Lanny nods.  Laura hugs Lanny.  He’s a little weirded-out at first, but he hugs her back.

SHANE
What’s he doing?

LANNY
Goodnight, Genius.

LAURA
Good night.

Laura exits.

LANNY
Will you go to breakfast with me?  At IHOP, maybe?

SHANE
IHOP?  No way.  I don’t like you anymore again.

LANNY
I’m not talking to you.  Adriana?  Will you?

ADRIANA
Only if you get some sleep.

LANNY
Okay.  And—maybe I’ll dream up a poem for you to read.

SHANE
Lovely.  Good night-morning-whatever.

Shane exits.

ADRIANA
You want me to sing you a lullaby?

LANNY
Sure.  Just—don’t invoke anything first.

Adriana sits down.  Lanny lies down with his head on her knees.  Adriana sings to him.  He falls asleep.  Laura enters.

LAURA
Aww.  It worked.  I love this job.
Pause.
I think I’ll go help Shane with his paper.

Laura exits. 

End of play.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Melanie Marnich's 'These Shining Lives' and the Dial Painters



In These Shining Lives, Melanie Marnich writes about something I wasn’t aware of until I read the play: The exposure of dial-painters to radium in the early decades of the twentieth century. 
Warren Winkelstein, Jr. of the School of Public Health at the University of California at Berkeley reiterates what he has read about the incident. “Most epidemiologists are conversant with the major American epidemiologic ‘events’ of the 20th century,” Winkelstein writes, “namely, the poliomyelitis epidemic of 1916, the influenza pandemic of 1918–1919, the ischemic heart disease and lung cancer epidemics of the last half of the 20th century, and the pandemic of human immunodeficiency virus/acquired immunodeficiency syndrome that began in the 1980s and continues into the 21st century.  However, there are many ‘lesser,’ but still important occurrences about which many may wish to be informed. Such an event is the saga of the radium dial painters.”  Winkelstein writes that Marie and Pierre Curie discovered radium and shared the 1903 Nobel Prize in physics with Henri Becquerel, who had discovered the radioactivity of elemental uranium.  Soon the Curies “observed with ‘amazement and delight’ that radium glowed in the dark.”  In 1902, William J. Hammer, an American electrical engineer, used small amounts of radium to invent paint for watches and scientific instruments so that people could use them in the dark.  Radium cost $225,000 an ounce, so “Hammer did not pursue the commercial potential of his discovery in America” (290).  But radium-painted watch dials quickly gained popularity in Europe, especially in Switzerland.  In 1914, the first major company in the US to manufacture these dials was established in Newark, New Jersey.  When the US entered World War I in 1917, there arose a great demand for various radium-treated devices.  There also arose a demand for workers to manufacture these devices.  Many young women became dial painters.  They applied the radium paint to these objects with fine-tipped brushes, and since they were paid based on how many dials they painted, they often pointed the tips of their brushes with their tongues to make it easier to apply the paint to the dials.  Because of this, they absorbed the radium over time.  In the 1920s it became noticeable that many of these dial painters were dying young and had a variety of illnesses. Often they had “disfiguring cancers and osteomyelitis [(bone infection)] of the upper and lower jaw” (290-291).
       Catherine Donohue, the protagonist of These Shining Lives, was a real person.  Marnich didn’t invent this person or change her name when she recreated these events in the play.  Catherine was one of the workers affected by radium poisoning.  She reportedly worked at Radium Dial in Ottawa from 1922 to 1931 for several years before she started to have pains in the bones of her left leg.  By 1931, she was limping so pronouncedly that her company dismissed her on the grounds that her “physical condition was frightening other employees.”

  At first doctors said they thought Catherine had rheumatism, but then she went to Chicago and found out that her illness was indeed radium-related.  Donohue’s cousin, Agnes Miller, said that she and her family visited Catherine weekly after Catherine was ill, but Agnes had to wait in the car.  “[Catherine] was falling apart from the radium,” said Agnes. “They didn’t want us to see her. They said she looked so terrible.”  Jim Donohue, a relation, saw Catherine, and he said, “She glowed in the night.  You could see every bone in her body” (Szuda).
       Physician and forensic pathologist Harrison S. Martland, chief medical examiner of Essex County, New Jersey, was not the first person to suggest that the dial painters’ illnesses were caused by their exposure to radium (a team from Harvard University proposed it first), but he “carried out the most extensive clinical investigations of affected dial painters and established the cause of their afflictions as ‘radium poisoning’.”  Although the statistics “provided overwhelming support for the causal role of radium poisoning,” is not known exactly how many dial painters died from it.  At least a few hundred of these deaths were documented, but judging by how many people were dial painters, the actual number of deaths was likely much higher.   The last documented dial worker died in 1983 (Winkelstein, 291).
        In 1938, Catherine Donohue helped file a class action lawsuit against Radium Dial. She was thirty-five years old and weighed seventy-one pounds when she gave her testimony at the Industrial Commission hearing.  She was so ill that she had to be carried into the courtroom.  During her testimony, she brought out a small jewelry box containing two pieces of her jawbone.
  Marnich includes this event in These Shining Lives:
REPORTER 2:  Shortly before her testimony ended, Mrs. Donohue took out of her purse a small jewelry box.  (Catherine reveals a small box, holds it out.)
GROSSMAN:  Can you tell the courtroom what exactly is in this box, Mrs. Donohue?
CATHERINE:  Two pieces of bone.
JUDGE 2:  Bones of what, Mrs. Donohue?
CATHERINE:  They’re mine.  They were removed from my jaw.  (Marnich, These Shining Lives, 63.)
        Individuals and groups sought compensation for their illnesses, but even though there were a few small settlements, it was not effective because the industry continually denied culpability. “I won my case six times,” Catherine says in the play.  “The Radium Dial Company appealed six times.  After losing all six, the company appealed one last time, to the United States Supreme Court.  Finally—” the line changes to Frances, here: “The Illinois Industrial Commission awarded Catherine $5,661 on July 6, 1938.”  The line changes to Pearl: “She died 21 days later.” Then Charlotte: “After fighting the company for seven years” (Marnich, These Shining Lives, 65).
       Before she died, Catherine wrote a letter to Our Lady of Sorrows Roman Catholic Church in Chicago, asking for a novena to save her.

  “The doctors tell me I will die,” she wrote, “but I mustn’t. I have too much to live for—a husband who loves me and two children I adore. . .They say nothing can save me—nothing but a miracle.”

  Catherine’s son, Tom, later died of cancer, and her daughter, Mary Jane, “never developed quite right” according to Agnes Miller.

  “She was real small,” Agnes said.  “She was only about [4 feet, 10 inches].  She was kind of slow with her school work.”  Agnes’s sister-in-law, Jill Miller, died in 1965 of cancer caused by radium exposure.  Agnes estimates that her sister worked at a company called Luminous Processes for ten years (Szuda).


       The lawsuits did, however, cause “considerable public outcry and certainly influenced the establishment of standards for industrial exposure to ionizing radiation” (Winkelstein, 291).  In the play, Frances says, “[Catherine’s] case changed Illinois law so that companies could finally be held responsible for the safety of their workers.”  Then Pearl says, “She was a test.”  Then Charlotte: “She was an experiment”  (Marnich, These Shining Lives, 65).
        Because many of the events in the play occurred in history, Marnich describes These Shining Lives as being “a work of creative nonfiction” (Marnich, These Shining Lives, 5).  Marnich constructs relationships between Catherine and her coworkers in order to convey her delight of being able to work and the horror of her work-related illness.  It is a play that causes me to think about what happened to these women, and because I have now learned about it, I will never forget about it.  There are other issues in history and in current events that deserve a voice onstage, and I believe it is well within a playwright’s interest to mention them so that no one forgets them or allows them to reoccur. 

Works Cited
Marnich, Melanie.  These Shining Lives. New York: Dramatists Play Service, 2010.
Szuda, Stephanie. “Too Ill to Visit.” The Times.  11/17/2010.  Web.  December, 2010.
Winkelstein, Warren. “Book Review: Deadly Glow: The Radium Dial Worker Tragedy by Ross Mullner.” American Journal of Epidemiology.  155.3 (2002): 290-291.  Web. December 2010.
               3/290.2.full.pdf+html>

Fatal Fimilial Insomnia and Melanie Marnich's 'A Sleeping Country'




A lot of people I talk to about A Sleeping Country ask if Fatal Familial Insomnia is a real disorder.  They’re wondering if it actually exists, or if Marnich invented it for the play.  I was able to find an article about FFI by Pierluigi Gambetti, MD.  I found it at the Merck Pharmaceuticals website because if I were Julia and thought I had that is the first place I would look, especially since she’s been trying to take so many different medications to combat it.
“Fatal familial insomnia is a rare prion disease that interferes with sleep and leads to deterioration of mental and motor functions,” Gambetti writes. “Death occurs within a few months to a few years.”  Fatal familial insomnia is inherited “due to a specific mutation in the PrPc gene,” Gambetti says.  But there is more than one type of fatal insomnia.  According to Gambetti, fatal insomnia “can also occur spontaneously, without a genetic mutation. This form is called sporadic fatal insomnia.” Both types of this insomnia affect the thalamus, which is the part of the brain that influences sleep (Gambetti).  “The disease usually begins between the ages of 40 and 60 but may begin in a person’s late 30s,” Gambetti says.  It starts out with the patient possibly having “minor difficulties falling asleep and occasional muscle twitching, spasms, and stiffness.” Eventually, the patient can no longer sleep.  “Occasionally, the sleep signs are difficult to detect,” Gambetti said. “Other changes include a rapid heart rate and dementia. Death usually occurs about 7 to 36 months after symptoms begin.”  In order to receive a diagnosis of FFI, the patient should have the typical symptoms as well as a family history of the disease.  Genetic testing can confirm this history.  Gambetti ends the article by saying, “No treatment is available.”
So we can see why Julia is willing to travel all the way to Italy to find a sufferer of FFI who may be a relative: if there is no treatment for her insomnia and it will kill her, she needs to know.  She tells her fiancĂ©e, “I have something that’s killing me and that’s not going away and not getting any better and it’s driving us both crazy.  I’m sick of having it and I’m sick of bothering you with it.  I’m sick of it all. […] I won’t do anything drastic.  […] Until I go to Italy.  To Venice.  To the source.  Who is currently Isabella Orsini.  I just found her online.  She’s sort of the home base for Fatal Familial Insomnia.  ‘FFI’” (Marnich, A Sleeping Country, 25-26).
That FFI is a real disease is a little disturbing to me, but I’m glad Marnich is writing about something real real.  True, there are some things in A Sleeping Country that are odd, such as the unorthodox psychiatrist Julia visits, but the fact that Marnich is actually writing about something real that could happen makes her play more credible.  It tells me that Marnich knows what she is doing, and that she will research things that happen in her work.  It also tells me that she won’t sacrifice accuracy in order to tell a story.  These are good methods to incorporate into my own researching and writing processes.

Works Cited
Gambetti, Pierluigi. “Fatal Familial Insomnia”.  The Merck Manuals Online Medical
Library Home Edition for Patients and Caregivers.  January 2007.  Web. October, 2010.            
Marnich, Melanie.  A Sleeping Country.  New York: Dramatists Play Service, 2010.


Similarities Between Characters in Melanie Marnich's 'Quake' and 'A Sleeping Country'

         In Quake and A Sleeping Country, Melanie Marnich has characters that have similar goals and experiences, even if they act upon them differently.  In Quake, Lucy and That Woman have a similar struggle, as do Julia and Isabella in A Sleeping Country.
In Quake, Lucy (the protagonist) hears about a serial killer (That Woman) and becomes obsessed with her.  Lucy says, “I think I’m obsessed. […] I might be.  Obsessed.  […] With a serial killer who has a full tank, a good map, and a mean romantic streak.  See, I keep going and going and going and going and going and going and going and going.  I’m not even sure where I am. […] Won’t know till I get there.  You ever think you’re obsessed?” (Marnich, Quake, 22).  In comparison, That Woman tells Lucy in Scene Five: “Like I always say, don’t get scared.  Get angry.  And get going.  And go and go and go and go and go and go and go.  ‘Cause we want better, we want bigger, we want more.  It’s go to be perfect and we won’t stop until we find it” (Marnich, Quake, 25).  Both Lucy and That Woman are on journeys.  Lucy is looking for her one true love, and so is That Woman.  Lucy asks That Woman why she hates the men she kills.  “I don’t hate them,” the woman says.  “I love them.  I love them so much.  Like crazy.  That’s the problem.  I love them inside out, upside down, every which way and back again from head to toe.  And I just can’t take what love is really like compared to the love I want.  But I keep trying.  I keep looking.  [For] I don’t know what.  I’ll stop when I find it”  (51).  This parallels what is happening with Lucy.  Lucy says earlier: “I keep moving.  Following the curve of the world, looking for the love of my life” (20).  Lucy meets one man after another and none of them are what she is looking for.  She and That Woman are looking for the same thing.
In A Sleeping Country, Julia (the protagonist) travels to Italy to meet with Isabella, to whom she thinks might be related.  Isabella and Julia both may have fatal familial insomnia.  Isabella has it and Julia thinks she might have it, especially if she turns out to be related to Isabella.  When Julia meets Isabella, Isabella and Julia have similar struggles and wants.  Isabella says, “I would, too, like to meet an Orsini.  For my own reasons” (30).  When Julia admits that she has been thinking about suicide, Isabella says, “You have come to the right place, Signorina.  I have pondered the suicide myself and wondered if I should do it before I become unable.  I pray that I leave this world with dignita.  Comprenda?”  Julia answers, “I completely comprenda” (31).  Just as Julia wonders if Isabella could possibly be of some help (26), Isabella also wonders: “So perhaps I could be of some help to you.  And you to me?” (31).  Julia and Isabella have tried all the same methods of getting rid of the insomnia and none have worked.  “I have left no stone and no charlatan unturned,” Isabella says (33).  Julia does point out the fundamental difference between herself and Julia: 
I am not like you.  I am not like anyone.  I am singular and fantastic.  I am fabulous and fabled.  I am an eclipse.  I, Isabella Orsini, am a force to rival the heretical glory of Galileo’s galaxy.  I do not have this disease.  I possess it.  I own it.  It is my inheritance, my legacy, my cross and my kingdom.  That is how I will live, that is how I will survive until I am gone.  I am not like you.  You are a victim of something.  But I am the victim of nothing (36). 
Yet in hearing Isabella say this, we see that she and Julia are a lot alike.  By the end of the play, we can argue the Julia does own the illness, even if it isn’t FFI.  When Greg asks Julia to ask him to take her back, Julia asks, “Would you take me like this?  In…jet lag and dirty clothes and humility? […]  Would you? […] Would you take me like this?  In honesty and hope?  […] Like I am?  Like this?  Would you?” (48).  To me this means she is telling Greg that this is who she is.  When she sees the moon off the balcony, Julia says “Ahhh…luna bella,” and asks Franco to lower the moon into her hand.  Her journey is over; she has recovered an answer about her insomnia from a woman different yet similar to herself, and she is finally ready for sleep (48).
After reading this play I realize that characters like Lucy and That Woman, as well as Julia and Isabella, can be interesting tools for a story.  They can make the themes of the play seem more universal as well, because if two people are driven toward similar goals and meet, it hints at the likelihood that there are many people that have these goals, problems, or journeys.  I want to keep this in mind in case I decide to write a play with a character who has goals similar to those of the protagonist.  It can be useful to tell a story and heighten understanding of themes within the play.

Works Cited
Marnich, Melanie.  Quake.  New York: Bret Adams Ltd.
Marnich, Melanie.  A Sleeping Country.  New York: Dramatists Play Service, 2010.