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how shakespeare escapes history

[reviews]A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare: 1599 by James Shapiro

A new kind of history "year book" has become somewhat popular over the past twenty years or so. We have fairly popular books dedicated to and named for 1066, 1688, and 1857. Books published last year covered 1776 and 1599, the latter being James Shapiro's A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare: 1599, the subject of this review. I wonder if anyone has calculated what year we will have a history book about each year of recorded history at this slow but accelerating rate.

What accounts for the popularity of this recent genre of history book? It certainly interests us to see a significant historical phenomenon or issue played out in the context of a public's daily life. Reading Kenneth Stampp's America in 1857, for instance, allows us to observe the buildup to the Civil War through something like a year's worth of newspaper stories. America in 1857 demonstrates that slavery and Kansas's Lecompton constitution shared headlines with that year's financial crisis and the Mormon's rebellion. Slavery, therefore, did not exist in a political vacuum. As Jesus suggested they might in another context, people were marrying and giving in marriage right up to Fort Sumter and beyond. These year books help, then, to make an issue or a phenomenon less theoretical by providing the context of a selected year.

If the study of any concept or person needs the benefit of the historical grounding these year books tend to offer, it is the study of William Shakespeare. Shakespeare's plays usually are taught with only the barest of historical context in high schools and colleges. This context is given often as part of an introduction to a Shakespearean play. Once the play itself is presented in earnest, of course, the English professor or teacher settles in, and history is history. Also, Shakespeare is often presented outside of a literary and historical context if only because his rivals are usually relegated to other units or courses in all but college English literature surveys. Therefore, and befitting immortal words, Shakespeare's lines seem to drop out of heaven like Melchizedek himself, having no father or mother, no beginning of days or end of days. Except for the puzzling diction (my ninth graders assume it is Old English) and the subject matter of his histories, Shakespeare departs from most classrooms no more connected with Queen Elizabeth's England than Charles Dickens or T. S. Eliot.

The classroom is not all to blame, since there are problems with understanding Shakespeare in an historical context, at least in the way that we are used to. We do know his beginning of days and his end of days, but we don't know a lot about Shakespeare in between. Part of the lack of information stems from the limited records of the era, and part of this lack (as Shapiro surmises) may stem from Shakespeare's care not to play out too much of his life in public. We know less about Shakespeare than we do about fellow Elizabethan playwrights Ben Jonson and Thomas Kyd, for instance.

[book cover]Shakespeare's relative historical silence may have more to do with his subtlety and brilliance than with his need to control the historical record, according to Shapiro. Elizabeth's very active censors never gave Shakespeare any trouble as far as we know. In contrast, what we do know about Jonson and Kyd includes imprisonment and torture, respectively, for their roles in writing plays Elizabeth's censors found objectionable. Shapiro gives examples of how Shakespeare may have gone to school on other writer's official troubles when writing his own plays. In Julius Caesar, for instance, Shakespeare appears to write with the knowledge of how John Hayward's history of Henry IV was censored in 1599. Shakespeare may have been influenced by this event in the care he took to undermine Brutus's treasonous republican arguments elsewhere in the play. Shakespeare's developing style also helped him with the censors. By the time he wrote Julius Caesar in 1599, "the various strands of politics, character, inwardness, contemporary events, even Shakespeare's own reflections on writing, began to infuse each other," according to Shapiro. Shapiro quotes some of Brutus's lines to demonstrate how they could be read as a justification of tyrannicide as well as "a portrait of a brooding intelligence struggling to understand itself." Shapiro concludes that Shakespeare's wonderfully compressed style and his ability to develop both sides of an intellectual argument without seeming to endorse either were due in part to the subtlety demanded by the relative lack of freedom of expression in Elizabeth's England. Shakespeare, then, learned to play the fool to Elizabeth's nuncle.

Because of the scant nature of the historical record, however, Shapiro's focus on a single year seemed audacious to me as I began to read A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare. Yet Shapiro works well with what he has, admits to conjecture when he spends pages based on mere suppositions (e.g., if Shakespeare had indeed heard Lancelot Andrewes's sermon, if Shakespeare had returned home to Stratford-upon-Avon that fall), and exhibits no taste for novelty against the strong circumstantial evidence that has led most historians to orthodox conclusions about issues such as the authorship of the Shakespearean canon or the nature of Shakespeare's business acumen or marriage.

Of course, Shapiro reads the four plays Shakespeare was writing or introducing at the end of 1588 or in 1599 with a fine-tooth comb for the influence of current events and larger trends. He reads Henry V in part as a wistful end to an era of chivalry, also marked in 1599 by the death of poet Edmund Spenser. He believes that Julius Caesar was influenced by the very real fears of assassination that Elizabeth faced that year. He finds As You Like It to be a response in part to the advance notices of rival playwright Jonson's Every Man Out of His Humour. Hamlet was influenced, Shapiro asserts, by the rise of both secularism and the genre of the essay.

Shapiro brings off the year 1599 in England with a lucid writing style and a good sense of drama. Like some of Shakespeare's plays, A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare opens with attention-getting conflict. In the dead of night after a blizzard, armed men risk a battle with Shakespeare's landlords and begin to dismantle a theatre in order for Shakespeare's company to rebuild it elsewhere the following spring as the famous Globe Theatre. Shapiro's book examines a number of fascinating subplots (e.g., the threat of a fourth Spanish armada, the rivalry among Elizabethan playwrights, Shakespeare's search for a comic actor to replace Will Kemp), but returns at appropriate times to the great unfolding plot of 1599: the Irish rebellion and the related rise and fall of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. In the process, Shapiro alternates chapters focused on national events, Shakespeare's life, and Shakespeare's plays with something of the seamlessness of Shakespeare's transitions among soliloquy, dialog, and action.

Shapiro also mixes literary criticism and history to great effect, especially in his discussion of Hamlet in the book's final three chapters, and he makes great use of this new year book genre by shuttling among biographic material, national events, and literary and historic trends. Shapiro's Shakespeare is alive in his own time as an intellectual, a patriot, a playwright, an actor, and a businessman.


 

 

 
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[flower]

everydayandeverynight.com

There's that story in Talmud about planting a carob tree that will only bear fruit in 70 years, long after the planter is gone. What is the motivation for the planter? Someone now deceased had planted trees for him. He's returning the favor.

Planting this linden required less patience, though certainly some. And just like parenting, there are gratifications at every step in the development. My ten-year old son already hangs off its branches. Our Dog Boaz urinates on it. I lean on it and take photos of it.

[Here's the whole post.]


Shadows and Symbols

We see here a personal connection between God and each of his stars. We see him not just having created them (past tense) but leading and ordering them still (present tense). There is a connection of call and response from him to these great balls of fire in the heavens. And he’s keeping score: he knows where each one is at all times.

This is not the God who can easily be boxed into the many categories and thoughts of humankind. And this is definitely not a boring or mass-marketed Supreme Being. This is the one who demonstrates a fireworks of creativity and artistry.

[Here's the whole post.]

[gravestone]

my gorgeous somewhere

From behind cold tables, men back      out
without words. Beat clean and   purple-black,
they relinquish certain prizes:
panties, condom wrappers
and other residual proofs of   conquest.

[Here's the whole poem.]

[trees]

mole

A student reported that he once said to C.S. Lewis, "the amount of really great poetry is very small." At which Lewis snapped, in some irritation, "The amount that can be read with pleasure and profit is enormous."

I agree. I don't have much patience with the idea of "greatness" in the arts, which I think does more harm than good.

[Here's the whole post.]


Florescence

She wears silk dresses in emerald   and
lapis lazuli spun from the peacock’s   tail.
Sometimes I imagine the threads   tugging,
pulling her back and hold on tight.

[Here's the whole poem.]

[tree]

the cassandra pages

The drive west last week, across Vermont and into New York, was one of the most ethereal and beautiful trips I've ever made over that route. I traveled in silence, in the early morning, alone. The clouds still hung low over the Green Mountains, and a hazy fog persisted in the flatter pastures on the border between the two states south of Lake George - it would burn off later in the morning and expose the extreme heat we've had since. But in those early morning hours, the mountains and farmland were dreamy and quiet and empty as the space in which I was traveling.

[Here's the whole post.]


On the Slow Train

What I had learned was folk etymology--what Wikipedia calls "A commonly held misunderstanding of the origin of a particular word, a false etymology." Folk etymologies are usually more interesting than the actual word origin. Sometimes folk etymologies can unfairly cast a bad light on some perfectly innocent words, such as picnic, or phrases such as rule of thumb. But for the most part, folk etymologies can be a lot of fun.

[Here's the whole post.]

[leaf]

Creature of the Shade

But as soon as I asked it I knew she wouldn't be able to answer. I was looking for something like "north" or "west," but she, despite being a transport management professional, just didn't use such words to organize her sense of a city. She used words like "green building" and "flagpole." She could speak of left and right, but these narrative markers don't help you unless you're already on the right course.

[Here's the whole post.]


not native fruit

I've just begun a new book by Susan Griffin, "Wrestling with the Angel of Democracy." So far, it lives up to Griffin's standards for exquisite reasoning and prose. She leads us through the labyrinth of her own inner experience where it meets the outer world of both history and current events. At certain points of connection with current events I remember feeling exactly what she expresses. I take it that the inference of the book's title is that, just as in the Bible story when Jacob wrestles with the angel of the Lord and will not let him go until the angel blesses him, we must now wrestle with the angel of democracy, and not let him go.

[Here's the whole post.]

[picture]

Everydayandeverynight.com

I'm launching my journal again for 5768/2008.

In this omer journal, I take a Jewish-mythic point-of-view which presumes that I, personally, together with all Jews past, present and future, left Egypt and stood at Mt. Sinai together. This perspective challenges each Jew to join the Jewish experience and not be limited by the actual historical time period in which one lives. This perspective places human imagination at the center of religious engagement.

Our leaving Egypt is only the beginning of our path to liberation. Free from the bonds of Pharaoh, we seek a better, more human life. We begin this journey by the shores of the Nile. We look back in awe at a sea now appearing normal after having miraculously parted. But what now?

[Here's the whole post.]


via negativa

It was my birthday, and I had been given a live shrew in a box — not for a pet, but simply to admire and to photograph. I was a little disappointed at first that I didn’t get any real presents, but the shrew was an admirably fierce little creature who attacked anything thrust in its direction, and I soon appreciated the wisdom of the gesture: loaning me a fully wild creature, something that can never be owned or controlled. The idea that anyone can own anything — it’s such a delusion, isn’t it? But that’s what drives this mania of consumption imperiling the earth.

[Here's the whole post.]

[picture]

Mole

Darling,
The rain you sent was mixed with snow.
I could not tell which between
The snowflakes and the apple blossom
On the black sidewalk; I woke and you were

[Here's the whole poem.]

[Picture]

The Middlewesterner

You see what you see. Don't beat yourself up too badly about it. Tomorrow the sky will be something different, a blue sheerness of petticoat, a shiny muslin, a white gauze.

Metaphor takes you away; it doesn't bring you back. You come back on your own if you get here at all.

[Here's the whole post.]

[Picture]

Lekshe's Mistake

Place
is not substance, not
a point in space,
more a point in time
when the conjunction of mind
and matter create
an experience
that
makes us believe there is a spot
to which we can return.

[Here's the whole poem.]


Marcia Bonta

Dragoo, affectionately referred to as “Skunk Man,” has little or no sense of smell, so as a mephitologist he can easily study and live with skunks. When he wants one for his research, he chases it down, picks it up by its tail, and is liberally sprayed, because, as skunk expert Richard G. Van Gelder discovered back in the 1960s, you can only grab a skunk by the tail and escape being sprayed if you surprise the animal. Otherwise, it is able to evert its anus and expose the nipples from its huge and squishy scent sacs, which are then ready to fire even if you do pick it up by its tail.

[Here's the whole post.]

[child walking]

Dick Jones' Patteran Pages

Your soft clock
scatters seconds like
peas on a drum.

A feather pulse
stutters in your
neck.

[Here's the whole poem.]

[duck photo]

Slow Reader

Aubrey is the guru of the Shelf Monkeys, a secret ‘book club’ to which Thomas gets invited. “Some books are simply a waste of paper, a waste of effort both to write and to read.” The flaming cover of this novel is sufficient clue to the book burnings that ensue, inspired by Fahrenheit 451. Books burnings, by the literate?! Only for books deemed not worthy by the members’ code. “We meet, we debate, we burn. It’s therapy, really.” Things escalate quickly and darkly, Lord of the Flies style, and Thomas is compelled to choose between his loyalties to his friends, literature, ethics, and his sanity.

[Here's the whole post.]


blogroll

Blaugustine
Box Elder
The Cassandra Pages
Crack Skull Bob
Creature of the Shade
Daintee
Dialogues with Silence
Dick Jones's Patteran Pages
Durable Pigments
Empreintes
Everydayandeverynight.com
Feathers of Hope
Florescence
Fragments from Floyd
Frizzy Logic
Heraclitean Fire
Hoarded Ordinaries
In a Dark Time
Irishmutt
Iron Monkey
Ivy Is Here
Lekshe's Mistake
Listening After Dark
Marcia Bonta
Mariachristina
The Middlewesterner
Mole
My Gorgeous Somewhere
9 to 5 Poet
Not Native Fruit
On the Slow Train
Outside the Lines
Paula's House of Toast
Qarrtsiluni
The Rain in My Purse
Sage Said So
Scenes from a Slow-Moving Train
Shadow Cabinet
Shadows and symbols
Simply Wait
Slow Reading
Spoil
Stony Moss
Tasting Rhubarb
3rd House Party
Tumblewords
Two Dishes but to One Table
Under the Fire Star
Velveteen Rabbi
Verbal Privilege
Via Negativa