In considering Robert Bolesta's monodrama, "147 Days," (directed by Krzysztof Rekowski), it is impossible not to think back to Dostoievski's rendering of the moving funeral oration for the young boy Ilyushechka. Given that "147 days" presents a glimpse into the hideous fate of young children at the hands of the monodrama's star; a pedophile, we find ourselves not so much disgusted as entranced. Are we, too, capable of such thoughts? Such actions? Hasten we then to embrace our own Ilyushechkas...lest we do worse than throw rocks at them....

What is apparently most chilling about Bolesta's "147 Days" is the extent to which the monodrama arouses the pleasures while disquieting the mind. If ever there were a moment when the Augustinian discord between knowledge and action were made visible - this play has the potential to bring it about. We know what we hear is wicked - yet we feel that it is all too pleasant. The pedophile does not so much describe the slaughter and rape of his victims, as he gives us a psychological profile of young children, homeless or from troubled homes, starving for bread and love; "they come of their own accord," he tells us - because they have no choice. Some critics laud the play, hopeful that the pedophile's words may well lead us to be more socially conscious of the fate of poor children... But I would think that his description of their plight serves only to make us pity them. And pity, as the ancients well knew, is the most monstrous of emotions. In this sense, "147 days" is not so much a