Reader of the Stack » Reader of the Stack Goes Canonical

King Henry VI, Part 3 by William Shakespeare

Ibis — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 03:25:14 +0000

From the back cover:
“In the Third Part Shakespeare extends his essay on monarchical politics by contrasting two kings, the good but ineffective Henry VI with his rival, the sensual and victorious Edward IV. He also offers more evidence of the perils of aristocratic factionalism in a series of scenes that display the grievous wounds caused by the Wars of the Roses. Here we watch the savage death of the Duke of York at the hands of Queen Margaret, the moving lament of King Henry as he witnesses the slaughter of the battle of Towton where the Lancastrians were defeated, and finally, Henry’s death at the hands of Richard of Gloucester, later King Richard III.”

My thoughts:
The penultimate chapter of the War of the Roses tetralogy (or pentalogy if you count Richard II where the whole thing begins, though that was a prequel of sorts). Warwick, won over to the Yorkist cause and then left hung out to dry when Edward changes his mind about his embassy to France to woo the French princess, dominates the play–at least until Act IV. We get the set up for Richard III as Richard proves both ambitious and bloodthirsty. Lots of back and forth as first one party then the other holds sway, with tragic losses on both sides, this would be pretty exciting to watch as a play even if we know how it all turns out.
My rating: 9/10

Timon of Athens by William Shakespeare

Ibis — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 03:11:00 +0000

From the back cover:
“A complex exploration of a corrupt, moneyed society, and Timon himself as a rich and philanthropic nobleman who is forced to recognize the inherent destructiveness of the Athenian society from which he retreats in disgust and rage.”

My thoughts:
This play was in some ways a lot like Coriolanus: a once-well respected citizen becomes an hated exile and is requested to come back into the fold. But the similarity ends there. Timon begins the play as a generous friend and benefactor–he’s willing to give everything he has away to his friends, willing to patronise the arts, willing to pay his servants well, willing to entertain even the lowest beggar at his table. But he must borrow to live this lifestyle and his addiction to generosity is as bad as an addiction to gambling or drink. He’s brought up short when it turns out he’s run out of money. But that’s all right, he thinks–these friends to whom he’s lavishly gifted will surely return his good will and loan him some money. But he’s wrong. Were these men just using him all along and now have no use for him? or are they just being wise with their own money, knowing that Timon can’t be trusted to pay them back? Either way, they all turn him down and he loses it. He’s angry and trusts no one to be honest. In a moment he turns from philanthropist to misanthrope. He ends up trying to be a hermit outside the city, but no one will actually leave him alone. He finds some gold, but he doesn’t want his old life back. It’s too late. The last part of the play is a study of the kind of indiscriminate bitterness against the world that takes hold and doesn’t let go. Not one of the best plays, and one gets the sense that there’s a whole subplot with Alcibiades basically missing.
My rating: 7/10

Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

Ibis — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 00:14:38 +0000

From the back cover:
“Written in a time when criminal biographies enjoyed great success, Daniel Defoe’s Moll Flanders details the life of the irresistible Moll and her struggles through poverty and sin in search of property and power. Born in Newgate Prison to a picaresque mother, Moll propels herself through marriages, periods of success and destitution, and a trip to the New World and back, only to return to the place of her birth as a popular prostitute and brilliant thief. The story of Moll Flanders vividly illustrates Defoe’s themes of social mobility and predestination, sin, redemption and reward. ”

My thoughts:
Moll Flanders is one of the great characters of English literature. In one way, she illustrates how dependent women were upon men before the feminist movements of the past couple of centuries, in another, she herself is a proto-feminist doing her best to survive in a patriarchal culture. Born to a criminal in prison, she must work for her keep from the start. She has ambition, but it is not the ambition of, say, a Becky Sharpe. She just wants to live comfortably and work for herself rather than as a servant. She is blessed with intelligence, a likeable personality, a bit of beauty, and some fortunate occurrences that happen when she needs them the most (bad fortune comes her way too, so it doesn’t seem too contrived). Though she calls herself a whore, in fact, looking on her with liberated, twenty-first century eyes, the closest she gets is living for a few years as a kept mistress (without many other options I might add). She marries a few times, but one gets the impression that this is out of practical necessity rather than desire. Marriage (as long as it’s good) grants stability and respectability. Once poverty drives her to take up thievery though, she’s perfectly content to apply herself and her talents to it as a career that provides both her and her friend with a living. One could imagine Moll dropped into modern times taking up a far less ethically dubious profession. Though at the end she protests her true repentance, there is really little change to her character. She doesn’t allow herself to feel the shame and remorse that religion and men would demand of her. And it would seem that Providence doesn’t require it since she finishes up happy and well off.
My Rating: 9/10

All’s Well That Ends Well by William Shakespeare

Ibis — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 21:01:21 +0000

From the back cover:
“This play concerns a maid, Helena, who cures the King of France of a disease, then asks for Lord Bertram’s hand in marriage. Bertram obliges, then quickly flees to Italy to engage in war, hoping for death to avoid marriage. Helena is greatly hurt, and sets out on a pilgrimage, only to wind up in Florence, Italy, where she meets Bertram’s new young mistress, Diana. In a perplexing “bed trick,” Helena sleeps with Bertram, while Bertram believes he is sleeping with Diana. This act secures Helena’s bond to Bertram, and Bertram, matured by war, consents to happily love Helena and their future child.”

My thoughts:
Rather by coincidence, this play was much like Cardenio/Double Falsehood, the previous Shakespeare play I read. The finale finds itself with a marriage between two people who probably would have been better off never having met. In DF, a rapist is (sort of) forced to marry his victim when her less-than-virginal state would otherwise become a liability for her. In All’s Well, a man who had been forced to marry someone he considered beneath him (and then duped into consummating the marriage by means of a bed trick), must finally yield and submit to the unwanted union. (One could add to this group Measure for Measure and make it a trio.)

I very much enjoyed the folktale scaffolding of this play, with the poor girl healing the king who promises she can have what she wants without knowing what (or who) he’s promising away, the girl marrying the boy who turns out not to like her, the promise that he’ll be a true husband only when certain impossible conditions are met…

In real terms, he’s kind of a jerk and a snob. It would be different if he objected to any arranged marriage (i.e. the fact of not having a choice in who he marries) or if he objected on the basis of her character or what have you, but to object on the basis that she grew up a poor physician’s daughter seems rather haughty (especially since the king agreed to provide her with title and wealth so the match wouldn’t be uneven).

For us moderns, it might be difficult to completely get why Helena pursues Bertram so relentlessly once he proves to be so unworthy of her. But in reality she hasn’t got much of a choice. It’s either Bertram (with the hope he’ll eventually come around and get some sense of respect for her) or the convent.

As for Parolles, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. A bit of a boaster and a rogue, but I don’t think he really deserved to be punked like that.

One more thing…that conversation in the first act about losing one’s virginity while the time is ripe was exquisite. All that word play put into service talking about something so timeless & universal. Ah, Will, I’m sure you could’ve talked anyone into bed in a minute or two.

Double Falsehood by William Shakespeare (et al.)

Ibis — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 18:43:16 +0000

From the back cover:
“On December 1727 an intriguing play called Double Falshood; Or, The Distrest Lovers was presented for production by Lewis Theobald, who had it published in January 1728 after a successful run at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London. The title page to the published version claims that the play was ‘Written Originally by W.SHAKESPEARE’.

Double Falsehood‘s plot is a version of the story of Cardenio found in Cervantes’s Don Quixote (1605) as translated by Thomas Shelton, published in 1612 though in circulation earlier. Documentary records testify to the existence of a play, certainly performed in 1613, by John Fletcher and William Shakespeare, probably entitled The History of Cardenio and presumed to have been lost. The audience in 1727 would certainly have recognised stage situations and dramatic structures and patterns reminiscent of those in Shakespeare’s canonical plays as well as many linguistic echoes.”

My thoughts:
Shakespeare & Co. put spotlight on mistreatment of women–At least that’s what I’m getting so far. Violante basically date raped, Leonora forced by her father to marry against her will (as it happens, to the rapist of the first girl). I don’t know if that was the original thrust–I get the impression that much of the text was pared (a kind word) by Theobald. It’s a little frustrating to think that he may have had earlier copies of the complete play and decided to do his own spin on it and now this is all we have.

Then again, it’s good that we have anything of it remaining, so thanks, Theobald!

When Dunzy first told me about this edition, I made a joke about them going through every line trying to decide what’s authentic Shakespeare. In fact it’s word by word, phrase by phrase. It’s interesting, but a bit distracting.

I haven’t finished, but I’m getting hints about how it will turn out–for poor Violante anyway. She dresses as a boy and goes out of town and into the countryside, but she expresses her intention to keep watch on Henriquez, ostensibly hoping that he’ll repent. The problem is, the outcome she’s looking for is, presumably, that he’ll make up for the damage done to her reputation by marrying her (cf. that repulsive injunction on rapists to marry their victims in Deuteronomy). I don’t know if Shakespeare will subtly show this to be not exactly the best answer to the problem (or if he did, if it will survive in Theobald’s edition), but I’m pretty sure she’s going to end up with him.

For a woman with a 21st century sensibility, the outcome I’d love to see is to have Roderick fall in love with her and not care that she’s “damaged goods”* & marry her anyway. I’d also love for Henriquez to have his comeuppance.

* according to their culture, not my opinion of course

Overall, I’d have to say this was a bit disappointing. It’s a bit like having a fossil of an extinct animal. We have a pretty good idea of the original structure (though details could be missing) and we can model what the original organism might have looked like, but all the flesh is missing. All that stuff (aside from the obvious–the language) for which we read Shakespeare seemed to have been left on the cutting room floor. The deep understanding of the human condition, the emotional and intellectual self-contemplation, the conflicts and confrontations, were all pretty much absent. We’re left with a bare-bones plot and little insight into the characters. There are also clear signs that there used to be more, like oblique references to events that are no longer included. Also, a couple of places where Theobald’s interpolations are quite evident. But I guess a fossil is better than no record at all.

(Oh, and I was right about Violante. One moment Henriquez is pressing his suit to Leonora, the next (when confronted with V’s allegation) he’s pledging his true love to Violante. All the men involved agree that H & V should marry and that’s that.)

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Ibis — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 04:48:06 +0000

From Penguin:
“In Paradise Lost Milton produced poem of epic scale, conjuring up a vast, awe-inspiring cosmos and ranging across huge tracts of space and time. And yet, in putting a charismatic Satan and naked Adam and Eve at the centre of this story, he also created an intensely human tragedy on the Fall of Man. Written when Milton was in his fifties – blind, bitterly disappointed by the Restoration and briefly in danger of execution – Paradise Lost’s apparent ambivalence towards authority has led to intense debate about whether it manages to ‘justify the ways of God to men’, or exposes the cruelty of Christianity.”

My thoughts:
I don’t think there’s any debate. Exquisite poetry defending the indefensible. This poem exposes not only the cruelty of Christianity, but its absurdity, its sanctification of misogyny, its glorification of servility, and its exaltation of ignorance. God the Father is malicious and cares only for his own ego. The Son is a bit of a cardboard cut out (which is okay I guess because he’s just a puppet of the Father). Adam is, well, as misogynist as his maker set him out to be. And Eve is a submissive, simpering slave (the one time she shows some independent thought, she brings God’s curses down on them all). Life before the “Fall” is pointless and stupid. Knowledge—its own intrinsic value and the value of seeking it are both denigrated by God, by the angels, and by Adam (of course the one who is desired to be most ignorant is Eve who is sent away or put to sleep whenever anything of import is discussed or related). The only character with any redeeming value whatsoever is Satan, a real tragic hero. We know from the start that his cause is futile and he’s bound to pay a dreadful price for his rebellion, but we can’t help but cheer him on as he fights tooth and claw for liberty and justice and against ignorance and subjugation. Not that I think Milton really intended that to be the case, but Satan is brilliant. Oh, and did I mention that the poetry is exquisite?

The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Ibis — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 23:41:54 +0000

From the publisher:
“Visiting an idyllic German village, Werther, a sensitive young man, falls in love with sweet-natured Lotte. Though he realizes that Lotte is to marry Albert, he is unable to subdue his passion and his infatuation torments him to the point of despair. The first great ‘confessional’ novel, it draws both on Goethe’s own unrequited love for Charlotte Buff and on the death of a close friend. The book was an immediate success and a cult rapidly grew up around it, resulting in numerous copycat deaths as well as violent criticism and suppression for its apparent support of suicide. Goethe’s exploration of the mind of an artist at odds with society and ill-equipped to cope with life remains as poignant as when it was first written.”

My thoughts:
This little novella looms large over the nineteenth century, so I was keen to experience it for myself. I knew in advance that young Werther ends his own life over a star-crossed love and that his action inspired real life copycat suicides. I also knew he was held up as a kind of Romantic (note the capped ‘R’) ideal, with Sensitivity and Passion and a love of Nature. I thought it was kind of interesting in a historical sort of way, but it was difficult for me to quite take it seriously—to be so in love as to decide that life is no longer worth living? It’s just so over the top. Is that because we just don’t feel that strongly anymore? Perhaps this kind of situation is like a kind of religious fervour. As if falling in love like this was expected so that’s what he did? But then Goethe himself shook it off and went on with his life, so it’s hard to say. Throughout, I just wanted Charlotte, Werther, and Albert to throw off restraint and go for a nice, accommodating, polyamourous relationship. Am I a twenty-first century girl or what?

Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell

Ibis — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 22:50:10 +0000

From the publisher:
“Mary Barton, the daughter of disillusioned trade unionist, rejects her working-class lover Jem Wilson in the hope of marrying Henry Carson, the mill owner’s son, and making a better life for herself and her father. But when Henry is shot down in the street and Jem becomes the main suspect, Mary finds herself painfully torn between the two men. Through Mary’s dilemma, and the moving portrayal of her father, the embittered and courageous activist John Barton, Mary Barton (1848) powerfully dramatizes the class divides of the ‘hungry forties’ as personal tragedy. In its social and political setting, it looks towards Elizabeth Gaskell’s great novels of the industrial revolution, in particular North and South.”

My thoughts:
This novel was a bit of a mixed bag for me. I started reading it at a time when I was looking for something fairly light-hearted. The murder element didn’t deter me because from the description it didn’t appear that we would get too attached to Mr. Carson before his untimely demise. I was, however, quite surprised to find nearly the first third of the book to be depressing and distressing as characters we’ve come to care about dropped off like flies, and all for the simple want of food, shelter, and adequate medical care (which alas, is still with us today). After the dismal beginning, however, the story followed along the lines I had initially been expecting and I ended up enjoying it quite a bit.

As a social commentary, I imagine it would have come across like gangbusters at the time, with an empathetic understanding of working class life and how intimate with utter poverty it really is. You wouldn’t find this in Jane Austen or, I think (I haven’t read ‘em all) George Eliot. And though Dickens often covers the same territory, his mechanism is satire rather than strict realism.

And then just for pleasure, we get a bit of a sensation novel in the last half, though it’s not as sensational as, say, a Wilkie Collins or R. D. Blackmore—Gaskell’s penchant for realism comes into play there too. A good novel for fans of nineteenth century literature (especially if you’re looking for something shorter than the typical Collins or Dickens).

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

Ibis — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 20:11:25 +0000

From the back cover:
“Catch-22 is like no other novel. It has its own rationale, its own extraordinary character. It moves back and forth from hilarity to horror. It is outrageously funny and strangely affecting. It is totally original.

Set in the closing months of World War II in an American bomber squadron off Italy, Catch-22 is the story of a bombardier named Yossarian, who is frantic and furious because thousands of people he hasn’t even met keep trying to kill him. Catch-22 is a microcosm of the twentieth-century world as it might look to someone dangerously sane. It is a novel that lives and moves and grows with astonishing power and vitality—a masterpiece of our time.”

My thoughts:
This novel is undeniably a masterpiece. It is not only a commentary on the absurdity of war (and capitalism thrown in for good measure), not only an encapsulation of the entire 20th century Zeitgeist with all of its angst, humour, brutality, and tragedy, but a metaphor for human life itself. Absolutely brilliant with great characters, outrageously funny episodes, and a jumble of a timeline that works both to confuse and elucidate the action (how’s that for a paradox?). I loved every minute of this book, even when I cried. I listened to the audiobook version (read by Trevor White), which I would highly recommend, and I thought the novel was so fantastic that directly upon finishing it, I put it on my wishlist for a hard copy for my permanent collection. This deserves to be on the top ten list of 20th century novels for sure. But I’m not going to touch the sequel with a ten-foot pole. Some things are best left alone, and I get the feeling this is one of them.

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

Ibis — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 03:07:40 +0000

From the publisher:
“The Woman in White famously opens with Walter Hartright’s eerie encounter on a moonlit London road. Engaged as a drawing master to the beautiful Laura Fairlie, Walter is drawn into the sinister intrigues of Sir Percival Glyde and his ‘charming’ friend Count Fosco, who has a taste for white mice, vanilla bonbons and poison. Pursuing questions of identity and insanity along the paths and corridors of English country houses and the madhouse, The Woman in White is the first and most influential of the Victorian genre that combined Gothic horror with psychological realism.”

My thoughts:
I quite enjoyed this “sensation novel”. It was extremely suspenseful and though I knew in advance what some of the plot twists were going to be, I was completely enthralled throughout. Not only did Wilkie Collins provide a wonderful escape to the nineteenth century complete with inheritances and stratagems, mad women and secret societies, mysterious foreigners (why are they always Italian?) and cruel men in power, but The Woman in White can be read with an eye to the rights of women and their position as second class citizens in every situation. On top of it all, Collins has given us the gift of Marian Halcombe, one of the strongest, most intelligent, most worthy of Victorian heroines.