Review : Shakespeare and Modern Culture

When I heard about a book called “Shakespeare And Modern Culture” I thought, “Cool, that sounds like exactly the sort of thing I do here – the whole  ‘Shakespeare is everywhere’ thing, video game commercials, Simpsons episodes, etc….” Then I saw it was written by Marjorie Garber, of “Shakespeare After All”, and I thought, “Uh oh.”  I still can’t finish that one (a weakness I expect is my own, and not the author’s).

Turns out I’m right on both fronts.  This is a real book that treats the subject seriously, considering not just examples of Shakespeare in modern culture (though it gives plenty), but looking at how opinions of Shakespeare have evolved over 400 years and how its integration with has changed.  There’s one play per chapter, and while not all of the are covered, the big ones are all there.  This is an excellent way to organize, as it gives the reader a chance to jump to their favorite and see how it’s been handled for the last few centuries.

I started with the Tempest, Romeo and Juliet, then skipped around past Merchant, Henry V (with lots of Obama references!) and Hamlet.  How have attitudes toward The Tempest changed?  Do we as a society identify more with Caliban, or Ariel?  Is it really about slavery and colonization?  Or what about Romeo?  When and why did his name become synonymous not with someone who would die for true love, but more of a lothario, love-em-and-leave-em sort of individual?  Where did the curse of Macbeth come from?  What is it about Henry V that makes those particular speeches so darned quotable?

Far from a simple sampler of Shakespearean performance and critique over the last few centuries, this book keeps it all in perspective of the big picture.  The question is constantly asked, Why?  What is it about Shakespeare’s work that enables us to ask any question, and then find what appears to be evidence to support our case?  Is it even a relevant question any more to ask what Shakespeare intended, or does each generation simply use the work as they need?  How is it possible that everything else in the world has changed over 400 years, and yet we’re still going back to what Shakespeare gave us?

I still contend that Garber’s work is not quite as “approachable” as I’d like, and this time I have a good example.  I once said that I could flip through Shakespeare After All and find a word on any random page that the average reader would have to go look up in a dictionary.  Well, this book did it for me with the word ‘aubade’.  I’d like to think I’m fairly well educated, and I’ve been around for a couple decades now, and never before this book had I seen that word (which turns out to mean “a poem or song about lovers separating at dawn”).  I need a glossary more when Garber talks about Shakespeare than I do with Shakespeare!

In the end, Garber’s premise is fascinating and her research is top notch.  She seems to get genuinely peeved when sources get their history wrong, which I find amusing.  Her biggest problem with Shakespeare In Love is the idea that it was Romeo and Juliet that was Shakespeare’s breakout hit that put him on the map.  And she completely dismisses the idea that The Tempest was Shakespeare’s “farewell” play.  This is an author who clearly takes her subject seriously both because it is her profession, and because she has a true love of the source material.

This book isn’t for everybody.  It’s not a light read.  It’s hard enough to read Hamlet, it’s hard enough to read Joyce’s Ulysses – so where does that put the chapter dedicated to Stephen Daedalus’ interpretation of Hamlet?  It’s confusing just *talking* about it, unless this is the kind of thing you live and breathe.  But for those of us that do live and breathe it (or at least we had more time in the day to do so?)  It’s quite the treasure.

The Psychiatric Times, on Hamlet

http://www.psychiatrictimes.com/display/article/10168/52396

I like finding crossover references like this (which, by the way, is dated 2005).  Most folks know, I’m sure, that it was Freud who came along and suggested Hamlet’s issues with mommy.  Here is a psychiatric view of that argument and more.  As a matter of fact the article opens by crediting Freud with “persuasively answering” the question of Hamlet’s delay.  However it then goes on to question Freud’s character-centric analysis, showing the positive side of examining interaction between characters rather than just individual motivation.  I’ve got to sit down and read the whole 5 pages.

Hamlet, by Shel Silverstein

It never fails to amaze me what new things I find in my daily trolling for all things Shakespeare.  Did you know that Shel Silverstein did a version of Hamlet for Playboy magazine? Warning, this is not a children’s story. It’s a bit more adult, as you can guess by the publishing credit:

Hamlet stabs Laertes, and Laertes stabs him.
Then Hamlet turns around and stabs his uncle, too,
While the queen drinks some poison the king had brewed.
So she dies, he dies, Hamlet dies, Laertes dies
On top of where Ophelia lies,
Right next to where Polonius died.
And before you can wink, blink or turn your head,
Chop-stab-slice — every motherfucker’s dead.

Reading Shakespeare = Playing Chess ?

So I’ve been discussing Shakespeare quite a bit lately. I’m finally getting into a stride where I have a number of sources of good discussion to keep me going and not just lecture my coworkers. I also started playing SuDoku this week as well, which has gotten me thinking about chess and “game trees” (have I mentioned how much of a geek I am?)

chess pieces

What I thought of last night is just how similar “analyzing” Shakespeare is to a good game of chess. Mathematically speaking, the number of possible positions in a chess game is effectively infinite. Much like, say, the number of interpretations of Hamlet. The so-called “best” positions, though, are the ones that have been traveled the most and studied for years by the masters. They have come to be the best not because it’s been proven to be so (otherwise, there would never be any upsets in a chess game, it would be ‘solved’ as we say in computer speak). Part of chess is to listen to the experts all look at the same board and say, “Here is what I would do in this position, and why…” and “Past masters in this situation did the following.” The only definition of a “wrong” move is one that can be demonstrated to be wrong, aka one that loses the game for you. Even if all the masters say that the right move is knight to d4, and you opt instead to go Queen to b6, then you certainly have that option. But you’d better be in a position to prove why your move is better than the recommended one. It might seem impossible since there is such a vast body of knowledge already in place that tells you to do something else. But if you believe strongly enough that your move is correct, then go for it. You might be right. You might change the wisdom.

The parallels to thinking about Hamlet are just outstanding. Is Hamlet insane, or not? There’s no right answer – there’s just the answer that the “masters” have, for the most part, come to agree upon. If you feel that there is sufficient evidence for both options (or branches of the game tree), then it is up to you personally to decide which you feel is stronger. The same strategy can be applied throughout the whole play. Whenever there is a crucial question, you can say “What does popular opinion say?” and simply take it using the “Others know better than me” approach, or else you can peek under the covers and realize that there are actually many options at each of these points, and you can find a substantial bit of evidence for all of them. Then you get to decide which you like better.

Who knows, you might suddenly discover that an idea has come to you based entirely on how you’ve read the play thus far, and now you go from the other direction, you ask yourself, “My idea is X, what’s the popular opinion on that?” Not “is it right or wrong” but “what have other people thought about it?” And, again, you decide for yourself whether you buy it or not.

In chess, there is an “end game”. That is, the final sequence of moves where you have less and less choice about what is going to happen. If you’ve played well thus far, you will be on top during the end game and, hopefully, be victorious. If you have not, then you’ll suddenly discover that you made a mistake a dozen moves ago, and it’s been inevitable ever since. (This is almost exactly where that sudoku puzzle thing I mentioned resembles chess. You fill in a square that you think is right, but only 12 moves later do you realize it was a mistake, and you have to go all the way back). The interpretation of the play is the same way. If you hit your first crucial question and choose an interpretation, but then by the end of the game, you’re saying, “Wait, now, that doesn’t make sense….” then you have to consider going back and revising your answer.

The crucial difference, of course, is that a chess game must end, and there is a winner and a loser. Technically, I suppose, you could have winners and losers of Shakespeare interpretation if you staged all the various combinations and then looked to see which ones bombed at the box office :). But that’s pushing my metaphor a bit.

Just something to think about when you’re cruising through the plays looking for the “right” answer to some fundamental question. Chances are there’s no right answer any more than there is a “right” move in the middle of a grandmaster chess game. Is Hamlet insane or not? Does Gertrude know about the murder or not? What do *you* think?