That rope's all caffled.
It can start to feel like Woolcock is on the the verge of making Les Pêcheurs de Perles feel contemporary, and profound. But in the end, she doesn’t have a trick up her sleeve that can fix the jagged, plot-twisty ending (long judged implausible, even by operatic standards).
, vol.I, New York, 2001, p.235: Jacchinus […] instanceth in a patient of his, that married a young wife in a hot summer, “and so dried himself with chamber-work, that he became in short space, from melancholy, mad”: he cured him by moistening remedies.
So the next day several more prominent women came out, all dressed up like Mrs. Santa Claus with white powdered hair and red skirts and pillows in their stomachs and Santa Claus hats, and they weren’t killed either.[…]But this new generation of kids, who grew up believing in Mrs. Santa Claus, seemed to have a different attitude toward women.
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