Mr. Shepard writes mythic plays in American jazz-poetry. He writes about today but obliquely, which is possibly the only way today can be written about. He is trying to express truths wrapped up in legends and with the kind of symbolism you often find nowadays in pop music. His command of language is daring and inventive—some of the words sound new, and quite a few of them actually are. The playwright has a musician's command of speech rhythms and links them to character and thought patterns. It is a lean and supple language, hip and bouncy. In a way, it is a white man's version of black argot—but not quite. It has its own way of dealing with words, and, while it clearly acknowledges a debt, it does have its own sound.

What separates ["The Tooth of Crime"] from Shepard works I have previously encountered is...