I don’t trust Simon Stephens around guns. The first and only time I have ever felt so unsettled in a theatre as to be physically unable to watch was during Punk Rock at the Lyric Hammersmith. The show tapped into teenage fears of school shootings (which were never helped by my art teacher’s zealous warnings of ‘anyone could walk in here, anyone’) and played out with such tension I didn’t feel comfortable until I was safely tucked up in bed that night.

I have a dislike guns in the theatre. The instant one is produced, a change comes ober the audience. Hyper alert, we react as one, not to the power play on stage, but to the waiting, waiting, waiting for the inevitable ‘bang’ of the blank being fired. No one wants to be caught out and find themselves launching in surprise from their seats. Always, there will be one who will let out an audible ‘oh!’, ‘heavens!’or ‘oh, fuck!’. The uneasy titters that follow are as uncomfortable as the puzzlement as to how they’re going to remove the body from the stage.

Guns create tension but not always for the right reason.

I had a similar reaction to the sudden appearance of a firearm in Wastwater. So when Herons opens with the stage direction of the main character pointing a gun dispassionately at the audience, I could only think ‘oh crumbs’.

It’s a suitably violent start for a play that is bristling with cruelty throughout.

I find it impossible to ignore Stephens’ experience as a high school teacher when I read his younger characters. He writes them with great authority and clarity, they are able to express themselves better than many of the older characters.

There is a certain frustration that comes across in his writing of young people. Frustration that seems to not always comes from the mouths of his characters but from his time as a teacher. He appears to genuinely want his young people to able to be able to develop in environments free from cruelty and unfairness. This can sometimes result in characters that appear verbose beyond their age.

My main source of enjoyment in Stephens’ work is his ability to draw out a story. Clues as to the truth behind his plots are dropped at comfortable intervals that can change your opinion in a blink of an eye. There is always some other prerogative or secret being kept hidden. Whilst his stories come to neat conclusions, there remain one or two points unexplained that will have you returning to the text, looking for clues.

In Herons there remains an interesting story, hidden behind subtext that runs as a counterpoint to the tone of the main narrative. Whilst some characters violence deserves a second chance, there appears to be others who can be written off. Ross and Bergsie come from the same place as Scott and Billy. But whilst the latter pair may find redemption, the former are cosily locks up in prison handily out of the way of everyone else.

The structure of the play is excellent and keeps the momentum running. You can imagine it to go down well performed to a schools audience. But there lies the key for much of Stephens’ writing. For all the detail he delivers in stage directions, it is in performance that his characters become entities in their own rights. The tapestries he creates in his plays are almost too great for one person to unpick all the layers of when reading alone. I am reliant on the skills of others to follow the clues laid down for each character through to corporality.

What I’ve read from his already heaving body of work lacks the literary clout of some of his contemporaries. For a playwright, that is no great loss. What you will see in Stephens work in performance is explosive and exceptionally human.

As a side note, I’m crazy about names. I love names. Does anyone know the source of fascination of Stephens and the name ‘Billy Lee’?