Where would we be without adverbs, prepositions and conjunctions? Carol Shields's final novel, Unless, is all about these linguistic footsoldiers ("little chips of grammar" as she calls them), the unglamorous words necessary to cement a narrative together.
Yet can such wordy preoccupations be transferred to the stage? Shortly before her death in 2003, Shields attempted the dramatisation herself, in association with her daughter, Sara Cassidy. Timothy Sheader's production consequently has an authority that most adaptations lack, but also suffers from the disjointedness that most of them share.
The original novel is a staccato piece of work, broken into concise, abrupt chapters that reflect the fractured state of mind of its heroine, a comfortably middle-class Canadian novelist struggling to come to terms with the fact that her daughter's chosen career is begging on the streets of Toronto.
It's a subtly allusive work about loss and the marginalisation of women. Yet vivid short chapters do not automatically become coherent short scenes, and the emotional momentum of Sheader's production seems prone to interruption.
Still, it's stylish to look at. Sheader places the action in an immaculate white box on which enigmatic chapter headings - Heretofore, Forthwith, Notwithstanding - flicker and scroll.
Maggie Cronin has the gargantuan task of portraying the novelist's trauma, which she does with a quiet dignity, though so quiet at times that she's practically inaudible.
The remainder of the eight-strong cast zip through a bewildering array of character and costume changes, many of them too fleeting to register an impression.
There is, however, a fine monologue from Joanna Wake as an old lady explaining why nobody ever listens to her; and Laurence Kennedy is great value as a bumptious editor who's rather too hands-on with his authors' work. I'll like to see him have a go at re-ordering this play.
· Until May 7. Box office: 01723 370541.
