I’ve told this story before, but this time I want to turn it into a discussion. Eons ago, when I was working at the supermarket during my college-ish years (that’d be circa 1988-1994 for anybody that wants specifics), I got into a discussion about Shakespeare with one of the ladies that worked with me, who I think was an English teacher in a past life.  I asked her what she thought of Shakespeare, or whether she was a fan, or what her favorite play was … I can’t remember the question.  But I’ve always remembered the answer:

I think that if the entirety of human civilization were to end tomorrow, and only one book survived that might show whatever comes next what once was, that book should be King Lear.

High praise.  But do you agree? Let’s put that out there as our sci-fi hypothesis.  Mankind?  Wiped out.  Maybe some of us blasted off on a rocket and came back around again a few thousand years later, or maybe it’s the aliens coming to see how exactly we blew ourselves up. They’re picking through the rubble, and they find a book.  What book?  Shakespeare?  If not Shakespeare, then who? Hold your horses, before everybody jumps in with “Bible!” I will extend the question – are you picking a book that is supposed to represent human civilization the way it *was*, good and bad? Or the way you wish it was? Do you see this as an opportunity for a historical record of what was, or a recipe book for how to change the future?

I was surprised to see this one attributed to Shakespeare, but there’s even an Ask Yahoo where somebody says “Is this really Shakespeare?” so apparently it’s out there as being by him.  What’s funny is the “best answer” is “Yes it’s by Shakespeare but I don’t know which play.”

That’s because it’s not by Shakespeare, it’s by Andy Warhol a few hundred years after the fact.

I swear I did not see this article on 20 Classic Closing Lines from Literature when I posted Best Ending Lines.  Who knows, maybe they stole my idea? 🙂 Anyway, what’s interesting about this article is that Mr. Shakespeare *does* appear on the list for a change.  Before looking, anybody want to guess? Because you’ll never guess.  I never would have.  I still don’t understand why they picked the one they did. (True story, I read The Old Man and the Sea when I was in second grade.  I was in the hospital for a period of time, and a well-meaning aunt knew I liked to read. So she brought me some books.  One of them happened to be Hemingway.  <shrug>  Not claiming I understood it, just that I read it.  Guy goes fishing, and it takes him so long and out so far to get the actual fish that by the time he gets home all the other fish have eaten it, right? Something like that. ;))

When we read a play, it’s easy to forget how much knowledge this grants us.  One big example is the names of the characters.  The script may say “Enter Iago” and then Iago begins speaking, but how and when does the audience realize that this guy who just walked onstage is named Iago? It’s not Shakespeare’s problem, it’s every playwright’s problem.  Arguably it’s the problem of every writer of fiction, except for those I suppose that write their story from the perspective of an all-knowing third party (what’s that called, again?) What I’m wondering is, what tricks did Shakespeare use to accomplish this?  How long can you find between the time a character appears on stage, and is given a name?  Spear-carriers don’t count, of course. I thought of this while watching Othello.  Enter Roderigo, who on his second like addresses Iago directly.  But then Roderigo is not called by name until several exchanges later.  If the audience misses it the first time they’re given the pretty obvious one when he shouts to Brabantio, “Do you know my voice? It’s me, Roderigo!” In Hamlet it takes Francisco and Bernardo all of 7 lines to call each other by name.  Bernardo then tells the audience that Horatio and Marcellus should be around any moment, and then they enter. Romeo and Juliet’s interesting – Gregory is called by name in the opening line (by Sampson), but Sampson is actually never referred to by name at all. You get the idea, I hope, of what I’m getting at.  As a playwright do you think Shakespeare consciously thought, “Ok, how and when will I communicate the name of this character to the audience?” or did it just sort of fall out naturally, and however it happened that’s what stuck? We speak so often of him as an immortal poetic genius who planned out every beat of every meter, but what about the more trivial but necessary stuff?