Imagine descending into a swimming pool to find it is only 3 feet deep—shallow enough to comfortably stand with the water up to your waist. Yet, you feel quite cold. As you start to move toward the other end of the pool, the surface of the water slowly inches up toward you neck, and your toes grow less and less acquainted with the ground. Soon, however, the depth of the water is so much that even your tip-toeing ceases. You must now flail and kick in order to stay in place. You are forced to swim, and it is a little terrifying, but you find that you are enjoying yourself at the same time. And you are no longer cold.
This has basically been my relationship with William Shakespeare’s works… until last year.
In elementary and middle school, the works of the Bard were exactly that: chilling waters that I just did not want to jump into. Of course I had heard all about him—everyone had. He was a classic, and I went along with that. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I only agreed because I couldn’t refute. I mean, who could honestly understand this guy? I distinctly remember countless questions about his sonnets on standardized tests I took even as early as third grade and the utter perplexity that came with them. If there was actually something Shakespeare was trying to say in his writing, he was definitely doing a terrible job at expressing it, I thought. I would just end up guessing the answer and moving on.
His mazes of words flustered me to no end, because everything we were learning about grammar in school just didn’t seem to apply to him. Verbs became nouns, and nouns became verbs. And don’t even start on the adjectives! When it came time for the rite-of-passage of reading Romeo and Juliet in eighth grade, I found myself deeper in that maze than I had ever been. Thank God for the left-side-of-the-page-translations, I thought, because I certainly wouldn’t have been able to discern Benvolio’s role in the story without them.
It really wasn’t until my second run-through of Romeo and Juliet, this time in my freshman year of high school, that I thought Shakespeare actually might be up to something with his wild words. It was only then that I let go and started swimming.
We took one stanza in the play and read and read and read it over and over again like we were trying to unearth something which was stubbornly stuck in the ground. All of a sudden, realization would strike me and everything made sense. I remember my sense of astonishment when we explored Shakespeare’s use of the ideas “saints” and “prayer” when actually talking about hands and kissing.
This shift in my thinking after our painstaking analysis of Romeo and Juliet is almost tangible to me. Shakespeare’s words were no longer obstacles in my way… they were different colors on his palette which he used to paint pictures that I never had access to before. I began to notice the melody and emotions of his lines which normal, grade school grammar would never have allowed. And finally I could say I enjoyed reading the right sides of the pages more than the now-bland left sides.
Although there are still times when I have to reread one of Shakespeare’s lines at least ten times before I can make any sense of it, I now realize just how much that persistence can pay off. There is so much more to discover in the deep end.
Anya, my relationship with Shakespeare has also been that of my presence in the “shallow side of the pool.” Prior to when I first read and acted out the Shakespearean play, Romeo and Juliet, with you and the other freshman English classmates, I believed in the “Shakespearean” stereotypes of “excessive love,” and “poetic conversations,” and believed what other people, who read Shakespearean works but disregarded their literary quintessence, had to say. I adopted the negative feelings that some people had towards Shakespeare’s works. I condemned both mentally and outwardly the works of students and others that had any trace of the “substance-lacking” summaries, themes, and ideas of Shakespearean plays. However, when I found out that I needed to read Romeo and Juliet with the class, I, too, was unwilling to jump into the “deep end of the swimming pool.” I was present in the shallow end of the swimming pool where enjoyable and superficial literature resided because I feared that I would be completely engulfed in the depth of “worthless” Shakespeare. Yet, I entered the deep side and “flailed” my legs and arms and noticed that my initial ideas were completely wrong. Romeo and Juliet used excruciatingly complicated language that did not conform to standardized grammar rules and other aspects of “correct” literature. The pool transformed into a boundless ocean that had many “language” whirlpools and waterspouts. I was constantly confused. Not only did I have to constantly come up to the surface water, but I also had to watch out for literary traps and hidden grottos in the Shakespearean ocean.
ReplyDeleteDespite my confusion, I finished perusing the play without the satisfaction of completely understanding the text, which is similar to how you described you felt after reading Romeo and Juliet for the first time in eighth grade. However, it was finally a couple of weeks ago when, in sophomore English class, I started reading the play, The Tragedy of King Lear. Yet, this time, I swam all the way into the middle of the ocean, where there seemed to be no bottom, and the coastline of “superficial literature” was not visible. In this state, I was able to understand more clearly the underlying puns in several phrases, the frequently used iambic pentameter, rhyming, and how word choice signified allusions, metaphors, and even foreshadowing. I found about how the essence of the play lied within the language of the text.
Anya, my very little interaction with Shakespearean works is similar to what you experienced with the play Romeo and Juliet and the metaphorical “pool” that you ingeniously created. Your experience with Shakespeare is similar to my very little interaction with his works. I found that the quintessence of different books can lie in very different areas or ideas. For Shakespeare works, it was language. Just like you stated, “There is so much more to discover in the deep end,” I came to the same conclusion as well about my perception of Shakespeare.
Anya! Like you, I initially saw Shakespeare’s use of language to be superfluous and confusing. If his ideas were so interesting, why couldn’t he just say them in plain English without any of this linguistic nonsense? I had trouble seeing through the words to get to the ideas they stood for. Even last year, during the reading of Romeo and Juliet, I had my doubts about the validity of using Shakespearean language to describe anything of importance.
ReplyDeleteHowever, this year, after reading Orlando, I have gained a profound sense of appreciation for the art of language and the art of conveying ideas. Something we explored while reading Orlando is the concept that there are ideas that cannot be communicated simply by stating them. It is truly an art and a science to convey abstract concepts to a reader, and it can only be done with the deliberate use of specific language. In this way, Shakespeare leads his readers to ideas like and artist paints on a canvas. By using poetic language and structure, he is able to convey beauty and significance in ways that would otherwise be lost by the use of simple or frank language. Like Anya, I have come to appreciate this talent more, and keep it in mind even when I am struggling to understand a Shakespearean novel, because I know there is meaning behind it.