Before going to see Lynx Theatre’s new “Dickinson: The Secret Story of Emily Dickinson,” you might want to brush up on your knowledge of the enigmatic 19th century poet.

William Roetzheim’s script is episodic and definitely not linear, so the more you know about Dickinson’s largely secluded life, her maladaptive family and her often-mysterious friendships, the more you’ll comprehend the early scenes. And you’ll more quickly recognize the lines from her poems that pepper the dialogue, complementing and frequently steering the story.

Roetzheim’s device is to have a writer, struggling to finish a play about Dickinson, suddenly meet her, in what might just be a drunken dream. Whatever the circumstances of their encounter, he tries to get her to clarify some of the many questions surrounding her life, particularly her relationships with her parents and siblings. Was she mentally ill or just terribly reclusive? Why did she have her sister burn most of her letters after her death? Who was the “Master” she addressed in several of her poems?

Mainly, Roetzheim pushes the theory that Dickinson was a victim of incest. The playwright character (he’s unnamed) particularly cites her poem “In Winter in my Room,” with its references to worms and snakes, and says that the evidence shows she exhibited 33 of the 37 factors in a modern checklist for incest survivors. Another scene has her brother saying that the reason he’s removing her early from boarding school — still a main topic of scholarly debate — is that her father wants her home.

Rhianna Basore

In the end, although nothing gets resolved, the play does offer a characterization of the poet as a fully dimensional woman, not just the ethereal, troubled spirit most often described in history books. She’s intellectual and dreamy, sure, but she’s also flirtatious, romantic and childlike as well as sad, angry and fatalistic.

All that, of course, makes for a juicy role, and Rhianna Basore squeezes it for all its tastiness. Except for a couple times when her too-soft enunciation obscured a Dickinson line, Basore shifted easily through the varied personality traits ascribed to the poet. And she showed no sign of the recent injury she suffered, which delayed the play’s opening for almost two weeks.

Diana Sparta plays all the other female roles ­— mainly Emily’s mother, her sister Lavinia and her best friend Sue Gilbert — but generally it was only the script that distinguished one character from another. Sparta also vocalizes most of the period music inserted by director Al Germani and Bill Kehayias

Greg Witttman captured the playwright’s affection for, and befuddlement by, his subject, but Charles Riendeau — like Sparta, playing multiple roles — was spotty and too similar in his portrayals.

Roetzheim, like his created playwright, clearly worships Dickinson, and his script effectively pulls provocative lines from her writings. Emily tells the writer she locked her door not to keep others out, but “to keep me in.” And she points out that her father often bought her books of poetry but said not to read them because “they joggle the mind.” Consequently, even if Roetzheim’s play is ultimately unsatisfying, he succeeds in inspiring a desire to re-examine Dickinson’s fascinating life and poetry.

The mostly dim stage lighting is uncredited, and costumes, “by cast,” are highlighted by Emily’s frilly dress in her stylemark white. The minimal set, also uncredited, comprises a desk, table and chairs, making it odd that between-scenes blackouts for stage movement and setup lasted as long as they did. On the other hand, those interludes also allowed the air conditioner to be switched on, supplementing the overhead fans with welcome cooling in the warm back-room theater space.

Cast and credits