An explosive play that took critics and audiences by storm, Equus is Peter Shaffer's exploration of the way modern society has destroyed our ability to feel passion. Alan Strang is a disturbed youth whose dangerous obsession with horses leads him to commit an unspeakable act of violence. As psychiatrist Martin Dysart struggles to understand the motivation for Alan's brutality, he is increasingly drawn into Alan's web and eventually forced to question his own sanity. Equus is a timeless classic and a cornerstone of contemporary drama that delves into the darkest recesses of human existence.
Equus
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"Remarkable...a psychiatric detective story of infinite skill."
-- Walter Kerr, The New York Times
About the Author
One of the foremost playwrights of our time, Peter Shaffer has had seven plays produced on Broadway. He has won every major dramatic award as well as an Academy Award for the screenplay adaptation of his play Amadeus.
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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful
By John Becker
Format:Paperback
Peter Schaffer has successfully captured what goes on behind closed doors between physiatrist and patient for both reader and audience in his play Equus. Developing a storyline around this relationship definitely provides for an interesting experience that the mentally stable wonder about but can never truly understand until they are in need of their own doctor. The fact that Equus is a play adds an extra twist because the reader does not have access to the thoughts of the patient or doctor but rather must imagine how the characters are feeling and thinking. This can produce frighteningly brilliant results for now the reader too is forced to evaluate their own mind based on their interpretation and reaction to the horrific acts that Alan, a young stable-hand and who is the patient, commits as well as the reaction that the doctor, Dsyart, has to Alan's actions and the conclusions about Dysart's own life he draws from them. I found myself asking, Is it okay that I understand why Alan gorged the eyes out of six horses with a steel hoof pick? Why am I not bothered by this gruesome act? These questions are what I think Schaffer was trying to achieve. He was successful in allowing me to understand the mind of a mentally ill patient. He explained enough in the story, gave me enough about poor Alan to be able to understand why he did what he did. He made the actions of a psychopath make sense to a relatively sane person and that is what is frighteningly brilliant.
For anybody interested in this play I would suggest to read it first and then see the production. Having a personal response and relationship with the characters before allowing other people to portray their interpretation I think will render the best results and achieve what Shaffer was getting at.
For anybody interested in this play I would suggest to read it first and then see the production. Having a personal response and relationship with the characters before allowing other people to portray their interpretation I think will render the best results and achieve what Shaffer was getting at.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback
I'm going to be honest. For a while I thought the only reason this play was popular was because it was "the one where Daniel Radcliffe gets naked." As crazy it sounds, actually opening a book can make you feel a lot differently about it, and I certainly did after reading Peter Shaffer's Equus. Is it there still a boy who rides horses nude? Absolutely. But it's not what you might have heard. This isn't a play about sex, so much as it is intimacy.
At the heart of this story is Alan Strang, a disturbed young man whose obsession with horses has caused him to commit a horrible act of violence: the blinding of six horses in the stable where he works. Treating him is psychiatrist Martin Dysart, who, as we watch him interact with Alan, his parents, and those in the community, works to make sense of the events leading up to the act, and the mystery of why someone would do such a thing. As he does, he finds himself submerging deeper and deeper into the world not of a violent, crazy person, but a boy capable of great compassion and warmth; a boy who's problem we soon realize is not solely in his head, but also in the discord he feels between the detached feelings everyone else has toward horses and the intense tenderness he feels toward them.
In another life, Shaffer could have easily rocked the detective fiction genre. It's not every day someone can take a heady physiatrist narrative and turn it into a suspenseful psychodrama. Using flashback, hypnosis, and re-enactment, Shaffer is able to show us how the process of unraveling the mystery of another person can be just as thrilling and intense as solving a who-done-it.
At the same time, this isn't just a story about a strange act of violence. It's about people everywhere; it's about what what we've pressed down, and what we've become. There is a very relevant message here about our restraint towards things. Or rather, our muting of how we feel toward the world around us. As Dysart says, "Can you think of anything worse one can do to anybody than take away their worship?" For Alan, the horse he rides isn't just one horse. It's God of Horses, the Holy, the Mighty. It's Equus. He rides horses bare because it is part of his ritual of worship, his attempt to try and become one. And what, Shaffer asks, is so wrong about such a ritual?
As he explains to his colleague in an attempt to defend Alan's behavior, "I only know it's the core of his life. What else has he got? Think about him. He can hardly read. He knows no physics or engineering to make the world real for him. No paintings to show him how others have enjoyed it. No music except television jingles. No history except tales from a desperate mother. No friends. Not one kid to give him a joke, or make him know himself more moderately. He's a modern citizen for whom society doesn't exist. He lives one hour every three weeks, howling in a mist. And after the service kneels to a slave who stands over him obviously and unthrowably his master. With my body I thee worship! --Many men have less vital with their wives" (79).
It doesn't matter that this play was written in 1973. Shaffer's message is clear: the world is becoming colder. It's not the way we meant to go, but our way of relating with each other is becoming increasingly distanced. Even religion, something that if you ask me, should be pretty personal, has become artificial. It's still an attempt at transcending, true, but at the risk of becoming for so many, nothing more than an appointed time in an appointed place. Sunday at 9: Church. An hour and a half, and you're free to go. Nor do we allow ourselves the spontaneous ecstasy of smaller holies: Rain on the Window or Warm Sip of Starbucks Coffee, or Dog's Sweet Fur. We need to learn to appreciate things again, Shaffer tells us. We need to holler in the wind, to participate. We need more worship.
When you think about it, it's pretty impressive that a play written nearly forty years ago about horses of all things, can register on such a real level with modern-day readers. Even teenagers are getting caught up in this play--and for reasons that have nothing to do with Daniel Radcliffe losing the wizarding robes...losing all robes... (all right, maybe a little). That said, while Shaffer's play about a boy who likes horses must be appreciated for its unique ability to tap into the pain and longings of hooded teens with I-Pads, that is not to say the work is without its antiquated moments. At points Dysart's monologues are so saturated with symbols, they feel more like an attempt at his own Greek tragedy than dialogue coming out of a person's mouth. Maybe this is just to capture the extent to which education has trained our psychiatrist protagonist, or maybe Shaffer is, in a certain sense, trying to give us the feel of a Dionysian chorus. Whatever the reason, this style definitely has its limits. It conjures some pretty images, but doesn't promise we return from them more awake.
Similarly, Shaffer's message does start to feel redundant at points: modernity is alienating, normal is harmful, madness is healthy, the bestial is passion, etc. At points he also idealizes Alan's behavior to the extreme, giving him the enlightened aura of a Greek God who knows better than everyone else, rather than recognizing him for who he is: a confused kid who's still trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. Shaffer also loves coming back to the repressiveness of the modern-day family. Alan's parents are allowed personalities, but only to a certain extent. But most frustrating about this play, Shaffer offers no real solution. Indeed his idea of a solution is Alan shouting in pain after his final flashback, then being put to sleep for the night by Dysart. In this way, Shaffer only ever gives us two extremes: either an intense, but unstable way of living or walking around like some repressed automaton.
But such a future envisions no middle ground. As Shaffer writes in his final monologue with Alan's sleeping, drugged body next to him: "When that's done, I'll set him on a nice mini-scooter and send him puttering off into the Normal world where animals are treated properly: made extinct, or put into servitude, or tethered all their lives in dim light...You won't gallop anymore, Alan. Horses will be quite safe. You'll save your pennies every week, till you can change that scooter for a car, and put the odd 50p on the gee-gees, quite forgetting that they were ever anything more to you than bearers of little profits and little losses, You will, however, be without pain. More or less completely without pain" (109). As powerful as this passage is, I can't help but think, sad...but where does it leave us? The modern world is destructive, I get it. But what then? What next? It's not that everyone wants to be Normal people scootering about in our metal metropolis, betting on animals like they don't exist. But what's the alternative? Can't intimacy and modernity come to some kind of arrangement? Isn't there some way to live with animals in a way that's with them?
As exciting as this passage is in its screw-the-system energy, there's only so far that gets you. I mean, really, what comes from condemning the Normal, modern world? What are we without it? Facts are facts, this is what we have. Maybe it's too fast and bright at times and in some places, people smell a bit funny, but in the end, it's not so bad. I think at some deep level, Shaffer recognizes this, and does acknowledge that even if a distanced way of relating to animals and people is the norm, it doesn't have to stay that way. While earlier on in the play, he idealizes a kind of pulling away from all roots ("I bet all cowboys are orphans!"), at the end he seems to recognize that change must not come from outside but within; from whatever generation is looking to lead. As Dysart says, "I need--more desperately than my children need me--a way of seeing in the dark. What way is this?" (110). Perhaps then, for Shaffer, the solution lies in that very question: "What way is this?" Not finding a way through the numbed-out Normal, so much as wanting a way to.
At the heart of this story is Alan Strang, a disturbed young man whose obsession with horses has caused him to commit a horrible act of violence: the blinding of six horses in the stable where he works. Treating him is psychiatrist Martin Dysart, who, as we watch him interact with Alan, his parents, and those in the community, works to make sense of the events leading up to the act, and the mystery of why someone would do such a thing. As he does, he finds himself submerging deeper and deeper into the world not of a violent, crazy person, but a boy capable of great compassion and warmth; a boy who's problem we soon realize is not solely in his head, but also in the discord he feels between the detached feelings everyone else has toward horses and the intense tenderness he feels toward them.
In another life, Shaffer could have easily rocked the detective fiction genre. It's not every day someone can take a heady physiatrist narrative and turn it into a suspenseful psychodrama. Using flashback, hypnosis, and re-enactment, Shaffer is able to show us how the process of unraveling the mystery of another person can be just as thrilling and intense as solving a who-done-it.
At the same time, this isn't just a story about a strange act of violence. It's about people everywhere; it's about what what we've pressed down, and what we've become. There is a very relevant message here about our restraint towards things. Or rather, our muting of how we feel toward the world around us. As Dysart says, "Can you think of anything worse one can do to anybody than take away their worship?" For Alan, the horse he rides isn't just one horse. It's God of Horses, the Holy, the Mighty. It's Equus. He rides horses bare because it is part of his ritual of worship, his attempt to try and become one. And what, Shaffer asks, is so wrong about such a ritual?
As he explains to his colleague in an attempt to defend Alan's behavior, "I only know it's the core of his life. What else has he got? Think about him. He can hardly read. He knows no physics or engineering to make the world real for him. No paintings to show him how others have enjoyed it. No music except television jingles. No history except tales from a desperate mother. No friends. Not one kid to give him a joke, or make him know himself more moderately. He's a modern citizen for whom society doesn't exist. He lives one hour every three weeks, howling in a mist. And after the service kneels to a slave who stands over him obviously and unthrowably his master. With my body I thee worship! --Many men have less vital with their wives" (79).
It doesn't matter that this play was written in 1973. Shaffer's message is clear: the world is becoming colder. It's not the way we meant to go, but our way of relating with each other is becoming increasingly distanced. Even religion, something that if you ask me, should be pretty personal, has become artificial. It's still an attempt at transcending, true, but at the risk of becoming for so many, nothing more than an appointed time in an appointed place. Sunday at 9: Church. An hour and a half, and you're free to go. Nor do we allow ourselves the spontaneous ecstasy of smaller holies: Rain on the Window or Warm Sip of Starbucks Coffee, or Dog's Sweet Fur. We need to learn to appreciate things again, Shaffer tells us. We need to holler in the wind, to participate. We need more worship.
When you think about it, it's pretty impressive that a play written nearly forty years ago about horses of all things, can register on such a real level with modern-day readers. Even teenagers are getting caught up in this play--and for reasons that have nothing to do with Daniel Radcliffe losing the wizarding robes...losing all robes... (all right, maybe a little). That said, while Shaffer's play about a boy who likes horses must be appreciated for its unique ability to tap into the pain and longings of hooded teens with I-Pads, that is not to say the work is without its antiquated moments. At points Dysart's monologues are so saturated with symbols, they feel more like an attempt at his own Greek tragedy than dialogue coming out of a person's mouth. Maybe this is just to capture the extent to which education has trained our psychiatrist protagonist, or maybe Shaffer is, in a certain sense, trying to give us the feel of a Dionysian chorus. Whatever the reason, this style definitely has its limits. It conjures some pretty images, but doesn't promise we return from them more awake.
Similarly, Shaffer's message does start to feel redundant at points: modernity is alienating, normal is harmful, madness is healthy, the bestial is passion, etc. At points he also idealizes Alan's behavior to the extreme, giving him the enlightened aura of a Greek God who knows better than everyone else, rather than recognizing him for who he is: a confused kid who's still trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. Shaffer also loves coming back to the repressiveness of the modern-day family. Alan's parents are allowed personalities, but only to a certain extent. But most frustrating about this play, Shaffer offers no real solution. Indeed his idea of a solution is Alan shouting in pain after his final flashback, then being put to sleep for the night by Dysart. In this way, Shaffer only ever gives us two extremes: either an intense, but unstable way of living or walking around like some repressed automaton.
But such a future envisions no middle ground. As Shaffer writes in his final monologue with Alan's sleeping, drugged body next to him: "When that's done, I'll set him on a nice mini-scooter and send him puttering off into the Normal world where animals are treated properly: made extinct, or put into servitude, or tethered all their lives in dim light...You won't gallop anymore, Alan. Horses will be quite safe. You'll save your pennies every week, till you can change that scooter for a car, and put the odd 50p on the gee-gees, quite forgetting that they were ever anything more to you than bearers of little profits and little losses, You will, however, be without pain. More or less completely without pain" (109). As powerful as this passage is, I can't help but think, sad...but where does it leave us? The modern world is destructive, I get it. But what then? What next? It's not that everyone wants to be Normal people scootering about in our metal metropolis, betting on animals like they don't exist. But what's the alternative? Can't intimacy and modernity come to some kind of arrangement? Isn't there some way to live with animals in a way that's with them?
As exciting as this passage is in its screw-the-system energy, there's only so far that gets you. I mean, really, what comes from condemning the Normal, modern world? What are we without it? Facts are facts, this is what we have. Maybe it's too fast and bright at times and in some places, people smell a bit funny, but in the end, it's not so bad. I think at some deep level, Shaffer recognizes this, and does acknowledge that even if a distanced way of relating to animals and people is the norm, it doesn't have to stay that way. While earlier on in the play, he idealizes a kind of pulling away from all roots ("I bet all cowboys are orphans!"), at the end he seems to recognize that change must not come from outside but within; from whatever generation is looking to lead. As Dysart says, "I need--more desperately than my children need me--a way of seeing in the dark. What way is this?" (110). Perhaps then, for Shaffer, the solution lies in that very question: "What way is this?" Not finding a way through the numbed-out Normal, so much as wanting a way to.
6 of 9 people found the following review helpful
By Melody
Format:Paperback
I didn't know if this play was going to be good or not, after hearing that in a recent stage version of it, Daniel Radcliffe performs a scene in full nudity. After reading it in its entirety, I was shocked at how much I enjoyed it! It's very interesting to see the characters delve so deeply into the mind of a troubled boy, but everyone has their story. And Equus definitely delivers in its suspense and psychological trauma.
Most Recent Customer Reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars
Another Excellent Theatre Production at Actors Express!
The King Plow center is a good re-purposing of an old factory, and going to the theatre there is a treat. I had not seen EQUUS, but knew it was a modern classic. Read more
Published 11 days ago by L. Buechele
4.0 out of 5 stars
Engaging
I was going to see the play and wanted to refresh my memory by reading up on it. Reading the book aided me in following the play. Both were great.
Published 17 days ago by B. Davis-sparks
5.0 out of 5 stars
No problems
I bought this book for my daughters high school class. It was easy to search, no problems with purchase or delievery. The condition matched the description.
Published 25 days ago by Byron M. Smith, III
5.0 out of 5 stars
Wonderful.
I had been curious about this book since the revival with Daniel Radcliffe, and had the chance to read it for school and it is fascinating!!
Published 3 months ago by Carmen Bates
4.0 out of 5 stars
Equus
This was a great book to read. It is a play book. It has mystery and thrill. I would say that this is not a children's book but more of a teen/ adult book.
Published 9 months ago by Wendy Silva
4.0 out of 5 stars
A Shocking Play that Focuses on the Role of Religion and Myth in the...
The play covers the life of a troubled lad. His mother is a religious zealot and his father an ardent atheist. Read more
Published 16 months ago by sf
4.0 out of 5 stars
Interesting
I bought this book for a class. It was an alright play but the book cover was flimsy and tore after my first use.
Published 21 months ago by Bennett F. Dill
5.0 out of 5 stars
Equus: Galloping Through Life
I was introduced to the title Equus when my high school's winterline played the "Equus Song". The music had a constant tempo with complex and driving rhythms, and a suspenseful... Read more
Published on November 16, 2010 by Kelcee Fujimoto
5.0 out of 5 stars
Passion
This is an extraordinary read for lovers of words everywhere. Equus is a story about passion, albeit misplaced but none-the-less, passion. Read more
Published on December 29, 2009 by Bob Giangrasso
3.0 out of 5 stars
Unique story with a bit of symbolism
Had to do "homework" on this one after reading it so I could REALLY grasp what I read. It is quite an unusual story with a bit of symbolism. Read more
Published on June 18, 2009 by Helen T. Diehl
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