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Grove Press first published Tom Stoppard in 1967 with his seminal work Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which quickly established itself as a pinnacle and perennial of the Grove list. A mighty and inimitable dramatist, Stoppard left an indelible mark on the worlds of drama and literature, and it has been our privilege to publish his work at Grove.
Born in Czechoslovakia in 1937, Stoppard fled the imminent Nazi occupation eventually settling in England where he became one of the country’s most prolific and beloved playwrights. Often compared to Shakespeare, Beckett, and Shaw, Stoppard was known for his “rhetorical dazzle” (New York Times) and cerebral explorations of our most important concerns, whether it be theology, political theory, art, or human nature.
Following the debut of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead—an absurdist, tragicomic take on Hamlet—Stoppard went on to win an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay, three Laurence Olivier Awards, and five Tony Awards.
While his death marks a devastating loss to the theatrical and literary landscape, his works will continue to awe, inspire, and delight.
Remembrances of Tom Stoppard
Helen Shaw in The New Yorker: “The playwright offered a kind of on-ramp to the literary canon, a way into a life of unabashed, unstoppable thinking.”
Ben Brantley in the New York Times: “The language of Stoppard has always affected me like an intravenous cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins . . . the essence of Stoppard’s words will continue to blaze long after his death.”
Christine Baranski in Vogue: “Tom Stoppard was our Oscar Wilde. We all felt witty and smart, maybe even erudite, watching a Stoppard play. Certainly we actors thought it a rare privilege to speak his words, inhabit his mindscape, rise to his level of eloquence. Sir Tom had a formidable intellect, a dazzling talent, a kind and graceful manner, and a rock star glamour.”
Brian Cox in The Guardian: “What distinguished Tom as a writer were his clear and purposeful ideas . . . One day, we were parking near the Royal Court when, a couple of cars down, we saw Tom. He had been sitting in his car for a while and we were a bit worried about him: ‘Do we say anything?’ We went up and knocked on the door and said: ‘Tom, are you OK?’ He said: ‘Yes, I’m fine. Why?’ We said: ‘We wondered, because you’ve been sitting here for a while.’ He said: ‘Well, I’m waiting for the meter to go to 12pm because I got here a bit early and then I shall deposit my coin and we can move on.’ I said: ‘Why?’ He said: ‘My dear boy, it’s all a question of elegance.’ He was a man who believed in elegance. It was about picking your moment. He was an astonishing man.”
Carey Perloff in American Theatre: “The sorrow I feel at losing Tom Stoppard is immeasurable. He cracked open my world . . . I hope I will have the joy of directing his work forever. And when I walk into rehearsal for Leopoldstadt in Chicago this spring, I know he’ll be alive again somehow. ‘When I’m writing a play, that’s not a job,” he once said. “Writing a play is life.'”
Bob Mondello and Jeff Lunden on NPR’s All Things Considered: “I think he saw things in the world – things that most of us can’t put into words, and he found words for them . . . his plays made you smarter.”
Adam Begley in The Atlantic: “At necessary moments in my life, Tom Stoppard has popped up like one of his frenetic characters, spouting enigmatic lines and leaving me thrilled, confused, and somehow heartened.”
Chris Jones in the Chicago Tribune: “I have been struggling to write a tribute to Tom Stoppard, the living playwright I admired more than any other in my professional life as a theater critic. Why was he my favorite? Whereas most playwrights offer us their personal view of the world, often communicated with the moral or political certainty they feel, Stoppard simply concentrated on making sure we learned that the world was more complicated than we knew when we first sat down in our seats. This has always been what I have most wanted from seeing a show. I believe it to be the theater’s great value proposition.”
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