ABSTRACT
I’m still very much enjoying Arcadia. Tom Stoppard’s dazzling plays have often given me fun and headaches and too much homework. The twin spies and quantum physics of Hapgood sent me to the bottom of an overcrowded class. Jumpers and Travesties sent me quite happily and too guiltily home, feeling compelled to take a crash course in logical positivism, Dadaism, and God. “Ah! That’s what it was all about! I think? Well, at least I’m foolish enough—or in Stoppardian terms, clever enough—to admit it.
