There can be few more inherently untheatrical topics than a writer's struggle to find his or her individual voice. The journey is internal, the judgment that it is over is purely subjective, and the quest is not of obvious relevance to any onlooker. From Look Homeward, Angel to Brighton Beach Memoirs, plays on this topic have been talk, talk, talk. So it is startling and satisfying to see a 68-ft.-wide stage crowded with white tigers, monkey kings, acrobats, sword fighters and 18-ft.-tall spirits of wisdom gliding by % serenely as California's Berkeley Repertory Theatre unfolds The Woman Warrior, a version of...
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