Diaries are dynamite — they hold secrets, and secrets can tear families apart. In Coral Wylie’s debut, Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew, currently at the Bush Theatre, written records are linked, as the title highlights, with plants in a story which explores queer identity and questions gender binaries, while at the same time creating a powerful picture of family life — and the way experiences are passed down the generations. Wylie, a graduate of the Soho Theatre Writer’s Lab and founding member of the Bush’s Young Company, uses flowers and foliage both literally and metaphorically.
Set in 2013, the play begins with Pip, a non-binary 19-year-old trying to make sense of themselves, writing in their diary: “Three months on from the great uni drop-out and life at home is still sticky.” Yes, that sums it up nicely. Their love life is not going well, and parents are not helping: Craig and Loren are trying to adjust to their daughter’s choice of pronouns, and lack of future plans. But things begin to change when Pip discovers a multi-coloured 1980s jacket in the attic, with a diary in its pocket. This once belonged to Duncan, a close friend of both Craig and Loren, who died about 20 years previously from HIV AIDS.
As Pip digs deeper into their parents’ past, flashbacks show a picture of three young unconventional people enjoying life. Duncan’s passion is not only Pride marches and gay activism, but also gardening. He inspires Craig to appreciate all kinds of flora and to look after an allotment. Plants, of course, need cultivation and, like children, need tending for the long term — they are also a metaphor for the passing of time and the care that people require. Wylie acknowledges this and shows how the pain of loss results in repression of memory, and how both men and women grapple with their sexual identity.
The drama centres on Pip’s deep desire to know more about their parents, to understand themselves better, and this results in a profound sense not only that gender is fluid, but also that sexual experiences can be unconsciously passed down in families. This generational situation is beautifully suggested in a play that argues that the natural world can teach us about both beauty and fluid identity. Hyacinth, for example, is named after Apollo’s lover, and yew trees have some branches that produce seeds and other branches that produce pollen — all on one tree. They are both male and female.
Wylie is also good at showing the power of male friendship, passionately emotional but not explicitly sexual, and when Duncan falls sick he moves in with Craig and Loren just as Pip is born. This redefines the idea of the traditional family, but without being sentimental — the three friends sometimes quarrel, and Duncan argues that the tensions between Craig and Loren can only be defused by him, their best friend. When he dies, the couple try to bury their grief in an act of forgetting, which of course doesn’t really work and creates the secrets that Pip can instinctively feel, even before they unearth them (the gardening imagery is deliberate).
Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew is, in many places, beautifully written. Pip’s family situation is affectionately and sometimes humorously described, with dialogues that have the ring of truth and convey emotional confusions as well as certainties. The more militant Duncan is convincingly pictured, as are Craig and Loren. These realistic scenes are punctuated with poetic moments, loving descriptions of plants and flowers, moments of joyful dancing, and a profound sense that the past lives on in the present. If, by the end of the play, the storytelling loses a bit of focus, and meanders a little, this is a minor blemish.
Debbie Hannan directs deftly on designer Max John’s traverse set, whose neutral colours contrast vividly with the bright 1980s jackets, indicating a draining away of youth. The set is also versatile, with its cupboards and drawers yielding diaries, clothes and finally plants (thanks to botanical designer Dan Yeo). Wylie plays Pip with a lovely mixture of tender puzzlement and youthful energy, while Omari Douglas’s Duncan can be both vigorously enthusiastic and sadly soulful. Wil Johnson’s Craig and Pooky Quesnel’s Lorin move precisely between their excitable younger selves and more melancholy present lives. Despite its imperfections, this is a strong contribution to the exciting world of black queer drama.
- Lavender, Hyacinth, Violet, Yew is at the Bush Theatre until 22 March.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Aleks Sierz.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
