David French is one of Canada’s most acclaimed playwrights and an accomplished explorer of the power of memory. Since 1972, generations of his fictional Mercer family, transplanted from Coley’s Point in Newfoundland to Toronto, have found their way into the hearts of audiences and the annals of Canadian theatre history. There may not be any Mercers in That Summer, but like French’s earlier plays, it is about people looking back with longing.

In this case, a middle-aged woman has returned to the place where she had her first sexual experience. It’s 1990 and Margaret Ryan has returned to the resort in Ontario where, 30 years earlier, as a shy, bookish teenager, she fell in love with Paul. For Margaret’s sister, Daisy, who had a confidence that Margaret longed to possess, that summer would be fateful in other ways: it would be her last. That Summer is a gentle, moving, and decidedly literary eulogy for lost youth – Paul quotes a lot of poetry to Margaret, including Robert Burns and Henry Treece.

When the play opened the Blyth Festival in Ontario last summer, local critics fell in love with it. But in its printed version some limitations surface. French packs far too much expositional material into the final moments. And Mrs. Crump, a wise and irreverent observer who serves as a kind of chorus, finally seems to be more of a dramatic device than a fully integrated character.

As they move forward in their careers, it can be hard for creative artists to produce work that does not resemble their “greatest hits.” Ultimately, That Summer may not stand the test of time to become vintage David French – perhaps this is a transitional work – but it is certainly engaging theatre. Time passes relentlessly, while tragedy and opportunity, laughter and tears, and memory and regret vie for our attention.