This week, my studies have been heavy on abstract, philosophical thought. In defense, I have resorted to a Lewis-Carrollian attempt to add a bit of lightness to the study of Walter Benjamin, David Lynch, and William Blake. Enjoy!

When Benjamin Met Lynch and Blake

When Benjamin met Lynch and Blake
They all went out for tea,
Except that Blake re-named the cakes,
And Lynch forgot the brie.

“No problem, friend,” said Blake to Lynch,
“I have this pound cake here.
But since the name has now been changed
We’ll eat it all as ‘Prear’!”

“Except, dear sir,” said Benjamin,
“There’s not enough for three.”
“But wait! But wait!” cried David Lynch
“Mix dirt in with the tea!

The taste, you’ll find, is not unlike
A bit of blood and worms:
Quite suited for the appetite
Of men who’ve come to terms.”

“He has a point,” said Benjamin,
“The aura is quite rare.”
“Well then, let’s dreat,” said William Blake,
“And sup this glooging fare.”

Since glooging fit the mood by chance,
They all agreed to “dreat”
And when they’d dreaten all the prear,
They called it quite a treat.

But after all was cleared away,
A feeling strange came on,
And William Blake asked David Lynch,
“That dirt you chose – a pond?”

“A puddle, Will,” said David Lynch
“With scum that has no peer!”
“Aha,” said Benjamin to Blake,
“At last it’s all come clear.

The sounds that whistle round our guts
Are not the Future’s art.
Instead, quite simply, what we hear
Is nothing but the start…

It’s Lynch’s first film coming true,
Except not six but three.
You see, our skills are better spent
On books than fixing tea.”

Bt w8, wuz dat lyt n d wndw ovr der?
Itz d east, n Juliet S d sun.

Shakespeare in Text-Speak.

That day has come.

Shakespeare in text-speak may be funny. It may be a clever nod to pop culture. It may be a reminder that 16th century language is no stranger than 21st century language. But it is not Shakespeare.

Don’t get me wrong. I am all in favor of new ways to get students interested in great literature.  And as I’ve written before, I thoroughly enjoy a good parody or clever application of new technology to literature.

I do…as long as the point is still to draw students in to the original literature, to spark interest and encourage them to delve deeper. You might start a prospective chef-in-training with a boxed cake mix, but you certainly don’t stop there.

The subtitle of the original article is, “Bard’s language poses challenge for teachers.” Though I agree with some of the article’s points, I have to ask, when did “challenge” become a dirty word?

Yes, the language is unfamiliar and can be difficult. Yes, Shakespeare wrote for performance, not reading (another false step in the way the Bard is often taught). But is it impossible for a ninth or tenth grader to understand Romeo and Juliet as written? No. Is it hard work? Yes.

The easy button has become a familiar icon since its appearance in commercials for Staples. Perhaps too familiar. Though we laugh at the ad, we also act as though its logic is true. In doing so, we forget that there is no easy button for learning.

In the midst of widespread emphasis on self-esteem and self-help, we treat students as if they are helpless and incapable of meeting high expectations.

The same problem holds true in other subjects, not just literature, but when Shakespeare is reduced to “bt w8, wuz dat lyt n d wndw ovr der,” the effects of reductionism in education become a little clearer.

Must be all the light coming in d wndw.

Just for fun, I like to imagine how Shakespeare would add to the commentary of pop culture on unpleasant phenomena…like tax day. And moving.

If the Bard had decided to give a treatise on moving to one of his characters, my bet is on the Duke in Measure for Measure (Act 3, Scene 1) and I think it would probably run something like this:

Be absolute for loss.
Ev’ry box thus found shall thereby be the sweeter.
Reason thus with things: if I do lose thee,
I do lose a thing that none but fools would keep.
When moved, thou art servile to all the molding influences
that dost this habitation, where thou keep’st, hourly afflict.
Merely, thou art loss’s fool. For him, thou labour’st
by thy move to shun, yet runn’st toward him still.
Thou art not noble, for all th’literary books that thou bear’st
are nursed from yard sales. Thou art by no means valiant,
for thou dost fear the sharp and biting edge of broken glass.
Thy best of rest is cleaning, and that thou oft provok’st,
yet grossly fear’st thy move, which is no more.
Thou art not thyself, for thou exist’st
on many a thousand bags that issue
out of dust. Happy, thou art not,
for what thou hast not, still thou strive’st to get,
and what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not well-packed,
for thy possessions shift to strange effects on the highway.
When thou art rich, thou art poor,
for like a truck whose bed with boxes bows,
thou bear’st thy heavy burdens but a journey,
and wind unloads thee. Friend, hast thou none,
for thine own fellows, who do call for help,
at mere repayment of thy proper aid
do curse the stairs, back-breaking, and the heat
for ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor space, nor bed,
but as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep, dreaming on both.
For all thy dancing floor is covered up
and doth beg the work of clearing space.
And when thou art old and rich,
thou hast neither grace, energy, friend, nor timing
to make thy spaces pleasant.
What’s yet in this that brings out fear of loss?
Yet in that loss lie hid more free square feet.
Yet moves, we fear, that makes these losses happen.

At least, that’s how I think it would go. The irony is that I wrote this piece before moving, packed the little slips of paper with it written down, and since moving, have entirely failed to relocate them. I’m sure the first draft was much more brilliant, but this is the best I can do for a re-write. Weep, literati, for what has been lost to mankind.

This ProfoundNet may not seem, well, profound, but it illustrates perfectly that literary questions are not far removed from public debate. That’s one reason, besides pure humor, I’ve chosen The Court, Led by Stevens, (Mostly) Rules Against Shakespeare by Ashby Jones of the Wall Street Journal. Here’s a snippet:

Turns out the justices of the Supreme Court debate over more than just the outcome of high-profile legal cases: They argue Shakespeare as well.

Specifically, it seems that a handful of justices have gotten serious over the so-called Shakespeare authorship question—uncovering the true identity of the writer of Hamlet, Macbeth and Titus Andronicus…

You who are literati are probably familiar with the Shakespearean authorship question. Did William Shakespeare actually write the plays attributed to him? (For a brief summary of the debate, see Wikipedia).

According to this report, if the Supreme Court tried Shakespeare v. Edward de Vere, classic book publishers would have a lot of re-titling to do, as would curriculum writers, theatre companies, and programmers of robot teachers. Call in the MiniTrue!

The story doesn’t end there. A little over a week later, Jones wrote another blog post called More on Souter…And Specter and Shakespeare. Here’s a snippet:

When asked his views of the Shakespeare authorship question, Justice David Souter recalled the comment of the late Harvard professor George Lyman Kittredge, who in his day faced claims that Sir Francis Bacon was the true genius behind the Bard. “I’ll agree that Bacon wrote Shakespeare if you’ll tell me who wrote Bacon,” Kittredge liked to say, Justice Souter said.

As far as his own position, Justice Souter was far less decisive than he has been on recent cases involving the Fourth Amendment and punitive damages. “I have no idea who wrote the plays, but I’m glad someone did,” he said.

Well put.

Whether as a mind-sharpening activity, evidence of well-rounded interests, or simply a desire to seek truth in all matters, it’s refreshing to see  members of the United States’ most powerful court taking an interest in literary studies.

Nonetheless, since the outcome of Shakespeare v. Vere will not construct precedent for any pending Supreme Court cases, it’s also encouraging to see at least one justice keeping the debate in its proper perspective.

Thanks, Ashby, for a thought-provoking post. (For the original WSJ article, see Justice Stevens Renders an Opinion on Who Wrote Shakespeare’s Plays). 

I couldn’t resist posting a link to this circulating (genius) adaptation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet to new media. 

Behold, *drum roll please,* the story of Hamlet, prince of Denmark, as it unfolded on Facebook: Hamlet (Facebook News Feed Edition) by Sarah Schmelling. 

A few of my favorite sequences include,

“The king poked the queen.”

“The queen poked the king back.”

“Hamlet and the queen are no longer friends.”

…and…

“Polonius thinks this curtain looks like a good thing to hide behind.”

“Polonius is no longer online.” 

Check it out for a good laugh.

Turning to the lighter side, in honor of that paragon of holidays, Valentines Day (known on the black market as Singles Awareness Day, Hallmark Appreciation Day, and other such pseudonyms), I’ve decided to spend a few days/posts invoking the Bard in less-than-typical ways (i.e. NO Romeo and Juliet in sight).  

My philosophy has always been, what’s the use of memorizing something if you can’t creatively tweak it later? So, (see “Brain Work” at the top of the page) the monologues I’ve memorized in the last few years are about to get a V-Day makeover. 

What do Hamlet, the color red, and hair have in common?  You’re about to find out. With no further ado (about nothing), welcome to the pre-Valentines special at Hamlet’s beauty parlor!

(Stayed tuned for the next installment.)

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To Dye or Not to Dye

To dye, or not to dye: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to dodge
Brave cupid’s arrows aimed with such misfortune,
Or to close the purse against the sea of hair products,
And by resisting, stay blond? To dye: to change;
Once more; and by a change to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand breakup shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished! To dye, to change;
To change: perchance to hate: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that change of dye what hate may come
When we have rinsed off this natural shade,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of too permanent tone;
For who would bear the jokes and scorns of time,
The brunette’s wrong, the Monroe comparisons,
The pangs of despised roots, the shower’s delay,
The insolence of office workers and the static
That patient brushing of the fresh-washed makes,
When she herself might her quietus make
With a dye bottle? Who would split ends bear,
To highlight and trim under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after dye,
The undiscovered redness from whose bourn
No gold color returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus permanence doth make cowards of us all;
And thus the chosen hue of sun-kissed pomegranate
Is set aside by the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great style and fashion
With this regard, their customers turn awry,
And lose the name of business.