In September, 1915, Rudyard Kipling lost his son in what Kipling yearned to believe was the finest moment of his son's young life. A moment so fine it would have been tragic to outlive it. John Kipling may have died at war, but perhaps his life had been lost long before. Lost in the shadow of a father's expectation and relentless ideology. A suffocating expectation and single minded direction, whose only escape was in its fulfilment.

In 'My Boy Jack', Haig provokes compassion and empathy for a Kipling struggling to find meaning and forgiveness. Meaning for his son's life and death. Forgiveness from his family and from himself. 'My Boy Jack' alludes to Kipling's racist views (his abhorrent pride in the very shape of his son's head), his imperialist outlook and belief in the English way of life for all. We are cleverly presented with the humanity of a man one could so easily revile.

Belinda Yang gives a heart wrenching insight into the pain of a wife dutifully supporting her husband, even as she watches her beloved son march away towards death. A woman bound by the times, whose only real control of her environment lies in what flowers adorn the vase, or who enters her garden. A woman who can no more prevent her son fighting, than stop the war itself. A woman who hopes for life right up until the very day her son is confirmed dead. A woman left only barely alive herself.

'My Boy Jack' raises more questions than it answers. Listening to the sensitivity and humanity of Kipling's poem by the same name, I left feeling confounded and angry at how such an insightful and rich character, could be so short sighted. Pun, very much intended.

Jason Nixon, 25.05.04