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Proof Monologue

Catherine cared for her father for many years after her mother died, taking on responsibilities like ensuring he bathed and bringing him books from the library. Her father's mental state deteriorated, believing aliens were sending him messages through the library books. Catherine dropped out of school to take care of him as he wrote for 19-20 hours a day, using an entire case of notebooks. Though the care was a burden, Catherine is glad her father has passed away.

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Trevor Alberts-Pearson
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370 views1 page

Proof Monologue

Catherine cared for her father for many years after her mother died, taking on responsibilities like ensuring he bathed and bringing him books from the library. Her father's mental state deteriorated, believing aliens were sending him messages through the library books. Catherine dropped out of school to take care of him as he wrote for 19-20 hours a day, using an entire case of notebooks. Though the care was a burden, Catherine is glad her father has passed away.

Uploaded by

Trevor Alberts-Pearson
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Proof

- Act 1 Scene 1 pp. 16,17 -

Summary: Catherine gave up her life and schooling to take care of her father until his
recent death. Catherine just had a small fight with Hal, a former student of her fathers,
about the importance of her fathers notes that he has been sorting for the last three
days.

CATHERINE: I lived with him. I spent my life with him. I fed him. Talked to him. Tried
to listen when he talked. Talked to people who weren’t there . . . Watched him shuffling
around like a ghost. A very smelly ghost. He was filthy. I had to make sure he bathed. My
own father . . .

After my mother died it was just me here. I tried to keep him happy no matter what
idiotic project he was doing. He used to read all day. He kept demanding more and more
books. I took them out of the library by the carload. We had hundreds upstairs. Then I
realized he wasn’t reading: he believed aliens were sending him messages through the
Dewey decimal numbers on the library books. He was trying to work out the code . . .

Beautiful mathematics. The most elegant proofs, perfect proofs, proofs like music . . .
Plus fashion tips, knock-knock jokes – I mean it was nuts, OK? Later the writing phase:
scribbling nineteen, twenty hours a day . . . I ordered him a case of notebooks and he used
every one. I dropped out of school . . . I’m glad he’s dead.

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