"Will in the World" by Stephen Greenblatt

It is difficult for me to write about books that aren't fictional. But I have recently finished reading Stephen Greenblatt's "Will in the World," which I found so fascinating and thoroughly entertaining that I can't leave it out of my blog.

Greenblatt is best know as one of the founders of the New Historicism movement, and as a scholar of Renaissance Studies and Shakespeare Studies. He had edited numerous anthologies that I use in my studies, including "The Norton Shakespeare," from which I read the Bard's plays every month. In this book, he illustrates perhaps as vivid a portrait of Shakespeare as can possibly be illustrated, using a wide range of existing documents regarding Shakespeare and England of the time. The task was possible, luckily, because the Elizabethan society happened to be a record-keeping one, so that while we have very few known facts about Shakespeare, a highly educated and probably conjecture can be formed. Greenblatt's research is impressive, and while what he writes about Shakespeare can be challenged, the information is still a valid knowledge about the literary and theatrical world, as well as the lives of the English people. The book discusses the reign of Elizabeth and James; the politics surrounded social classes, religion, witchcraft, and the theater; The Bard's possibly homosexual relationship with Lord Southamton; and how the different elements in Shakespeare's lives--his father's obscure faith, England's famous figures, the death of his son, and the Bard's aging process--contribute to the plots and the characters in his plays.

But the book isn't merely about history. Greenblatt draws many connections between Shakespeare's texts to those of others, offering insights into how art and society inform each other. There are thoroughly studies of "Measure for Measure," "Hamlet," and "King Lear," and many more, which guarantee to change the way we read these plays for the better. Despite being highly informative, I really enjoy this book and highly recommend it to anybody who is interested in Shakespeare and Renaissance history.

"The Merchant of Venice" by William Shakespeare

The past two months I read two of Shakespeare's history plays, "Henry IV Part I and II." History plays, as I have noted, are not my cup of tea. And since I can only manage to read one of his work a month, it is a bummer when I read one and don't enjoy it. After finishing "Henry IV Part II" I knew that I had to read something fun this month, a comedy, perhaps. I ended up with "The Merchant of Venice."

Antonio is the Merchant of Venice, but the story is not any more about him than it is about his friend Bassanio and the antagonist Shylock. Much in the same way that "Julius Caesar" is more about Brutus, and the Henry IV plays about Prince Hal. Bassanio is in love with an heiress Portia, and he needs money to cover his traveling expenditure in order to woo her. His friend Antonio is unable to help him, having lost his fortunes at sea. Bassanio then turns to Shylock the Jew for money with Antonio guaranteeing the loan. The condition is that if Bassanio fails to repay the debt in time, Shylock wiill cut out a pound of Antonio's flesh. Meanwhile, Shylock's daughter Jessica falls in love with Lorenzo, a friend of Antonio and Bassanio, and runs away with him. This further intensifies Shylock's hatred for Christians and results in his malice toward Antonio.

Shylock is painted as a evil character, but he has every reason to be. In Shakespeare's time Jews are strongly discriminated against. Shakespeare himself has made many racist remarks about Jews in several of his plays, which reflects the politics of the time. In the play, Shylock is even more poorly treated than his servant. There is always a tone of disdain when anybody talks to him, and not a single person expresses compassion toward his social condition. While his malice toward Antonio seems outrageously violence, it is not without a cause. For Antonio, despite his love for his friend and his willingness to die in the name of justice, has spat on Shylock for being a Jew. To modern readers, this hardly makes him seem a sympathetic character. Instead it is perhaps Shylock for who most moves the readers.

However, true to his style, Shakespeare allows his villain to speak for himself. One of the most remarkable things about the play is that, while the whole world of the play seems completely ignorant of its own racism, Shylock is offered this speech:

I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. (Act 3 Scene 1)

He alone has the wisdom to see that all humans are equal, despite how inferior the Christians think of him. They deserve to be treated by him the same way that he is treated by them.

Another great aspect of the play is its representation of women. The women in the play are smarter than their men, and seemingly to hold a higher card in every situation. Portia designs a riddle that only her true love can solve it and win her for a bride. She shows herself from a start as a woman with a brain, outsmarting her princely suitors. Afterward it is she who comes up with the charade to save Antonio and to test her husband's love.

This play is absolutely remarkable, and in my opinion one of the Bard's best comedies. It is witty and thoroughly entertaining. I don't find the fool, Shylock's old servant Lancelot, as annoying as the fools in other plays; his contribution to the play is just the right amount. The last scene, in which Portia and Nerissa reveals their secret charade to their husbands, is one of the most delightful scenes of Shakespeare comedies. Despite its rather corrupted morals, this play is a wonderful work of literature.

"Freud: A Very Short Introduction" by Anthony Storr

This is going to be a quick one. I just want to write a quick recommendation to those of you who, like me, have to study theory and have a rather hard time with it. Earlier this month I finished reading this very slim introductory guide to Freud, his life and works. It is very well written and rather entertaining, if you could believe it. Anthony Storr writes about Freud's life, explains his major works, and gives a brief account of his challengers and the development of his studies. This guide is great for beginning students and for reviewing what you have already learned. As a conclusion to the book, Storr describes the influence that Freud's works had on the world, and notes that while much of his works are flawed, he had open many doors to greater developments, and that his works are so superbly written they become within themselves great works of literature.

"The Aeneid" of Virgil

Keeping up with the classics, I finally managed to read "The Aeneid" by Virgil, translated by Robert Fitzgerald, who is my favorite Greek translator for no particular reason; I just happened to have read his translation of "The Odyssey," thought it was fine, and continued to choose his works over others' ever since. I found a copy of this at Powell's for a dollar and thought it was one of the best finds, bought it right away, and let it gather dust in my room for months before finally motivating myself to read it.

I enjoy reading the epics to a certain degree. With every work that I have read so far--"The Odyssey," "The Metamorphoses," "Inferno," and "Paradise Lost"--there are parts that I find absolutely magnificent, and parts that I find terribly dreadful. Usually the latter are violent scenes of war and/or torture. Mind you, I am not easily bothered by violence; I just happened to find these scenes--which must have delighted ancient readers' minds, or other wise there wouldn't have been so many of them--to be such a bore. I don't remember there being so many of them in "The Odyssey," but there certainly are plenty in Virgil's work. These scenes are endless, extending over chapters, seemingly very similar. Somebody is mentioned; we learn a bit about their appearance, background, and mettles, then we watch them get killed in various ways. At one point somebody is mentioned having their brain dripping down their face--yeah, I did not need that.

"The Aeneid" tells the story of Aeneas, a half-god Trojan warrior, as he journeys home after the end of the Trojan War. His is in no way nearly as interesting as that of Homer's account of Odysseus' journey. His side having lost in the war, Aeneas and his family flee from Troy. Subsequently he loses his father Anchises and his wife Creusa. Guided by his mother Venus, he and his son Ascanius (or Iulus) find themselves in Carthage, where he meets Queen Dido, who was charmed by Cupid to fall in love with Aeneas as a part of Venus' plan to keep Aeneas safe in Carthage. She commits suicide after he leaves her. Later he is to find Italy, where a war breaks out over King Latinus' decision to give his daughter to Aeneas, upsetting King Turnus who also wants Lavinia's hand. All this madness is, as usual, stirred by the disagreement between the gods--Jupiter, Juno, and Venus.

As an epic, it is not as well structured as "The Odyssey," and the story that it tells does not really appeal to a large audience. The war scenes dominated the story. Some of its gems include Dido's suicide, the deaths of Nisus and Euryalus, and various accounts of the fall of Troy. These scenes call for a revisitation, but not so much the poem as a whole. Am I too harsh on Virgil? I don't think so. For the man who made me sit through hours of atrocious cruelties, I am very much being kind.

Raymond Carver's "What's in Alaska?"

Dying for some entertainment, I picked up my collection of short stories by Raymond Carver that I purchased a while back, and read a story called "What's in Alaska?" The story is about two couples, Jack and Mary, and Carl and Helen. Though short, it is filled with puzzles that beg us literary scholars/nerds to analyze. I don't know if I understand the story fully, but that is the beauty of it.

The story opens with Jack buying a new pair of shoes. After getting home his wife Mary remarks that she doesn't like the color but that it looks comfortable. This could be the symbolism for their marriage, or perhaps their lives in the place they currently reside. Mary later tells Jack that she had been interviewed and is likely to get a job in Alaska. Later that night they got together with their friends. While high on hookah, the same question keeps coming up without ever being answered: "What's in Alaska?"

Perhaps there is nothing in Alaska. The party seems concerns with what Jack is going to be doing in Alaska. Not once does anybody mention the fact that they are moving there because of Mary's job. There is also a slight hint of an adulterous desire between Carl and Mary--or perhaps it only seems so because we see it through Jack's gaze. The couple does not seem to be in a perfectly happy state, especially in comparison to their friends. There is also a curious remark by Carl: "Cindy's got to learn to hunt if we're going to Alaska." Earlier when Jack tells Carl and Helen the news, Carl and Helen seems resolved, either seriously or jokingly, that they will go to Alaska too. The relationship between these four are unclear; they seem to be close friends, but what is the degree of this closeness? Carver seems to consciously leave out these details. Perhaps he wants us to make for ourselves who these people are to each other.

Despite not getting the whole picture, I really enjoyed reading this story and thinking about it afterward. Carver is known as one of the best American short story writer, and this collection has never failed to deliver whenever I turn to it in need of inspiration.


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***SPOILER ALERT***

This story has a very interesting ending. Jack is about to turn out the light and go to sleep when he thinks he sees a set of eyes gleaming in the dark hallway, staring at him. He picks up one of his shoe and waits for whatever it is that watches him to move before throwing the shoe at it. It remains a mystery what this "thing" is. Prior to the scene, Mary and Jack have a peculiar conversation, tinted with anger and ambiguity. Mary wants something to smoke, and Jack tells her there is nothing. She asks for something to drink and he gives her a beer, not certain that she actually wants it. She then realizes she hasn't taken her pill, and after taking it she is too tired to even put the can of beer away herself. Following the relationship between these two closely all the way throughout the story will probably reveal more about the state of their relationship. They seem dysfunctional but try to keep themselves together for an unclear reason--perhaps it hasn't got to the point where they want to break it off yet. Maybe, like Jack's new shoes, the relationship works despite seeming imperfect.

David Hare's "Secret Rapture"

Every month I read at least one non-Shakespearean play. This month's play is David Hare's "Secret Rapture."

The play is about a family that has recently lost its father--the mother is long dead. Katherine, the father's new wife, an alcoholic good-for-nothing, falls into the hand of Isobel, the youngest daughter. Isobel feels the need to take care of other people's problems, while her sister Marion accuses her of being selfish and making others feel guilty. Since Katherine is unemployed, and since nobody would employ her, Isobel feels obligated to find her a job and let her live in her flat after the house is sold. However, Isobel's own resources are minimal, and having Katherine around not only affects her job but also her relationship with her boyfriend Irwin. The story is about how Isobel comes to terms with her own desires and does something for herself for once, and how the people around her reveal their selfishness in response to her actions.

I have only experienced few of Hare's works. A while back I read his plays "The Blue Room" and "The Judas Kiss," the latter I found particularly moving. The film "The Hours," whose script he adapted from Michael Cunningham's novel, is one of my most favorite films of all time. "The Secret Rapture" would be a good show to see; it is well structured and orchestrated. I don't find the work to be a literary masterpiece--as I find many of Arthur Miller's works, for example--but it is the kind of work that makes good theater. It is a good read.

Keeping The Balance!

If you, like me, have a lot of interests, you probably understand how incredibly difficult it can be sometimes to keep up with all the things you have to do, and to manage your time so that you can do all those things. Currently my top priority is to study classical literature, which includes reading the titles on my GRE study list and reading one Shakespeare play every month. But it is also important for me to continue studying theories, drama, French, and sociology, as well as to keep up with my creative writing. As I have only twenty-four hours a day, and a part-time job, AND a serious addiction to television, I often find myself freaking out about all the tasks I have created for myself. Sometimes I do envy people who don't have nearly as many ambitions as I do, as their lives much be much easier. It is important to note that the things that mean the most to me are the things for which I do not get paid.

Oftentimes I discontinue some of these things so that I can finish something else. If I'm trying really hard to finish reading the novel I'm working on, it is more likely that I would simply forget to study French. But most of the times the thing I tend to sacrifice is my creative writing, possibly because I find it less important. The truth is that if I really want my writing career to take off, I need to really keep at it! Another side effect from not writing is that it throws off my balance. There are days when I find that I just cannot concentrate on my reading. When that happens, I find that if I take a few hours to work on my writing, I can go back to the reading and be able to focus on it for hours. There is a certain balance I have to keep between reading and writing, and by doing both I can really do them both well.

Another thing that really helps me to balance things out is my improvisation class. I have been taking improv for ten weeks now, and it is brilliant. I love getting up on stage and making things up, gaining confidence, challenging my mind, and hanging out with these cool people. In many ways we all find that improvisation benefits a lot of aspects of our lives. I don't know if I will ever be an improv artist and perform in front on an audience, or whether or not I want to, but I know that by working on my craft, it really helps me in the other areas in life. So far it has helped me to get ideas for my writing, to enjoy whatever play I'm reading by offering me the ability to interpret the lines in many ways, and to be more comfortable and confident in my social life.

I always find myself forgetting how important it is to keep this balance. Maybe after writing this entry, I will be able to remember.

Michael Chabon's "Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay"

It is no secret that I am a literary snob who reads almost exclusively the classics. Part of it is because I am an English major, hence the classics are my top priorities. It is also because I am rather slow, so reading new works would be time wasting when I should be reading something that contributes to my studies. That said, I do find some time every once in a while to read new works. When my friend Andy told me that I should read Michael Chabon's book about writing, I thought it might be better if I read Chabon's writing first--after all, why do I care what he has to say about writing when I don't even know what his writing is like? I decided to borrow "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay," which won the Pulitzer a while back and therefore justifiable in my snobbish mind.

Josef Kavalier, a teenage art student and a trained magician, escaped from the Holocaust in Germany to New York City where he meets his cousin Sam Clay and discovers American comic books. Sammy is amazed by Joe's artistic ability, and soon after the two collaborated on a superhero comic book, making for themselves money and fame. As the story progresses, Joe falls in love with Rosa Parks, who helps him to rescue his young brother from Germany. Meanwhile Sammy discovers his homosexual feeling for Tracy Bacon, a handsome radio actor. The rest of the story follows the decade-long adventures of the two cousins, full of humor and misfortunes.

This is a big novel, but it is carefully constructed and thoroughly entertaining. Chabon demonstrates his knowledge of the comic world--or, rather, his ability to do research. I was particularly taken by his attention to details (which I thought was a little redundant at times) and the way he seamlessly incorporates the information into a part of the characters. Another very intriguing aspect is the focus on homosocial relationships between Joe and Sammy, Joe and his father in law, Joe and his magic teacher, Sam and his editor (whose name I don't remember), etc. There are many male characters in this story, and their camaraderie takes precedence over their relationships with women. While the style is relatively masculine, Chabon also portrays the vulnerability in these men as they confront tragic moments in their lives. Even though he is not as tender as many of my favorite writers, I wouldn't consider him stiff either.

To conclude, it was a long but really good read.

Daniel Defoe's "In Defense Of His Right"

Without meaning to, I ended up reading three short stories that somewhat align with Halloween, two of which I have previously blogged about. Last night before heading out to a party, I managed to squeeze in a short story. This one is a part of the collection of English short stories that I also bought from some book sale. The story is "In Defense Of His Right" by Daniel Defoe.

I had never read anything by Defoe before, and the only thing I know about him is that he is the author of "Robinson Crusoe". I find his gothic story much more engaging than that of Poe. It is about a father who is tormented by the disappearance of his son, whose second wife keeps compelling him to will his fortunes to her son. Several visits by a strange apparition stands in the second wife's way of getting what she wants, and in the end it remains unclear whose apparition it is.

The story is more intriguing and leaves a more long-lasting impression because of the remaining mystery. It leaves the reader to ask question about the apparition, as well as the nature of greed and the bond between family members. The structure is linear, and the story is told mostly in the narrative form. Unlike Poe he doesn't take much time describing the settings; he doesn't use the environment to create the mood. While Poe's prose is much denser, Defoe's pacing is faster and more captivating. I wouldn't say whose style is better, but I do like Defoe's story better, just because the plot is more complex and intriguing.

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This is the part where I summarize the story for my own personal use. ***SPOILER ALERT***

After the father had married the typical greedy, evil step-mother, things had changed in the family. The oldest son wants to go abroad but the step-mother doesn't want him to, not wanting her husband to spend money on his expenses. With the help of other relative, the son is able to go. When the step-mother denies her husband the ability to pay the son's bills, the son disappears and the father cannot reach him. The step-mother tries to convince the father that the son is dead so her son with him can inherit his fortune, but the father refuses to believe it. An apparition of the son appears to haunt the step-mother as she compels her husband to comply to her desire. In the end the son shows up--he isn't dead, after all--and has no idea about the apparition. While abroad he has a dream that the father is writing him an angry letter telling him to come home. The father also never writes such a letter. My take on it is that the apparition is the mother who is dead, as she is the only dead character who is invested in the father and the son's well-being, who is most likely to dislike the step mother.