Book review: Shakespeare: The World as Stage

Book review: Shakespeare: The World as Stage

Book review:

Shakespeare: The World as Stage

 

By Bill Bryson (b.1951)

Atlas Books, HarperCollins Publishers, New York, 2007

199 pages

 

You don’t have to be a great big Shakespeare fan (I’m not) to have a good experience reading this book. If you’re a Bill Bryson (A Walk in the Woods) fan, you have another reason to pick it up.

This is the kind of book that makes me eager to turn each page and read more, and write a new book review. Bryson writes in his usual well-informed style. He marshals entertaining facts and frames of reference. He’s convincing when he debunks some of the notorious myths about The Bard.

F’rinstance, about 5,000 books have been written by folks who don’t think Shakespeare wrote all those plays and sonnets, and who suggest the names of about four dozen 17th century contemporaries who might have been the real author(s). Bryson offers this guidance about the risible claims that other authors created Hamlet and such: “…no one has ever produced…the tiniest particle of evidence to suggest that they actually did so.”(1)

Mostly we don’t know much of anything about Shakespeare’s private and public life. There are several years during his life that are a complete blank in the historical record. He was a successful poet and playwright. He worked closely with a successful thespian troupe. He was a husband and a parent.

Shakespeare Hamlet

Here’s the thing: Shakespeare was not a colossal celebrity during his lifetime. No one knew he would become the most revered genius of English literature. No one realized that he was adding 600 words like critical, excellent, leapfrog, and zany to the English language. No one knew that more or less every English speaker today from time to time uses phrases first conceived by William Shakespeare, like budge an inch and foregone conclusion.

 

Shakespeare was only one of many playwrights in his time—we know him now because he is a creature of buzz and a beneficiary of a couple gents who decided to publish all his works (the First Folio, published 1623) a number of years after he died.

About 80% of the roughly 3,000 plays by many authors that were performed in Shakespeare’s time are completely lost—we know their titles and nothing more. Most plays were performed only for a short time, and never published.

The fact that we can casually talk about anything “Shakespearean” is more or less the result of serendipity.

Oh, by the way, despite the fact that you and everyone else can recognize the iconic likeness of Shakespeare, there is no surviving portrait that was painted during his lifetime and no one knows what he really looked like.

Note: (1) Bryson, 195

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

“…the truth is putting on its shoes.”

Mark Twain gets it right, again…(quote)

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Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

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Chanson de mer

Chanson de mer

The exuberant power

         of the natural world…

 

 

Chanson de mer

 

I am the rock.

I am the island.

I am the glistening boulder at the waterline.

I am the sharp-edged, flinty fragment,

   tossed by the blue-green surge,

      scattered by the stinging wind,

         collected once, and dropped, by a child.

I am the ancient stratum exposed to the faintly salty air.

I am the blunt face of the heaved-up, broken stone,

   I am the silent witness

   to the everlasting crash and song of the sea,

      I stand against the tumbling, roiling crests that

               dash to me,

         break on me,

               climb my height,

         die at my foot,

               and rise, vaulting, surging, crashing, singing,

         to grandly break on me again, again…

         the lyric, rhythms, chords the same

               as at the last or next millennial dawn.

I am the rock. The sea endlessly sings to me.

Good. Enough.

Tarry.

Listen.

 

September 15, 2011

“Chanson de mer” is about the ocean and the coast. It is a respectful imagination of the exuberant power of the natural world around us. I think that’s the best kind of description of a poem about nature. I wrote it on a cloudy afternoon on the massive rock formation that dominates the south coast of Conanicut Island in the Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island. Jamestown, at the southern tip of the island, is the home of Beavertail State Park. I’d love to go back.

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Book review: Shawshank Redemption

A world I do not want to know…

by Stephen King

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

As with another eye: Poems of exactitude with 55 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

Take a few minutes on this website to read: my poetry in free verse and 5-7-5 format—nature poems, love poems, poems about grandchildren, and a spectrum of other topics—written in a way that, I hope,  makes it possible for you to know, as precisely as possible, what’s going on in my mind and in my imagination; thoughtful book reviews that offer an  exceptional critique of the book instead of a simple book summary; examinations of history that did and didn’t happen; examples of my love affair with words; reflections on the quotations, art, and wisdom of famous and not-so-famous people, and my occasional ingenuous comments on politics and human nature.

Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

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Book review: St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England

Book review: St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England

Taking another look

at Stevenson’s St. Ives

 

 

Book review:

St. Ives,

Being the Adventures

of a French Prisoner in England

 

by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1907

438 pages

 

This is a re-do of my earlier post on Stevenson’s St. Ives, because I now confess that I stopped reading at p. 390. So, don’t worry about spoilers….

I’ve always embraced a coldly mechanical willingness to stop reading a book whenever the time comes….in St. Ives, the time comes at Chapter XXXI.

Stevenson died after writing XXX chapters of St. Ives. Perhaps not too many eyebrows were raised when a respected contemporary writer, Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch, wrote the remaining six chapters from Stevenson’s notes.

Stevenson’s oeuvre is fastidiously lush, precise, sophisticated, with deeply contextual character development and dialogue that leaves me breathless with anticipation for more. There’s an abstractly beautiful love interest. Did I mention that I’m a fan of 19th century prose?

Quiller-Couch doubtless had his merits as a 19th century writer. He ain’t no Stevenson.

Q-C’s contribution to St. Ives lacks the prepossessing heartiness of Stevenson’s dialogue and storyline.

Q-C can’t quite gin up the panache and persiflage that RLS animates on nearly every page.

Q-C makes a too sincere but unavailing effort to match the rural patois that Stevenson offers for the reader’s delight.

Q-C bungles the parlous adventures of the eponymous protagonist, injecting a wretched slapstick element that leads an RLS fan to transition uncomfortably into pursed-lips mode.

Stevenson’s prosaic mastery is, sadly, missing in the last six chapters of St. Ives, and, therefore, ignorance shall be my penalty for closing this truncated masterpiece before I reached the end.

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

 On this website you can read: my poetry in free verse and 5-7-5 format—nature poems, love poems, poems about grandchildren, and a spectrum of other topics—written in a way that makes it possible for you to know, as precisely as possible, what’s going on in my mind and in my imagination; thoughtful book reviews that offer some exceptional critique of the book instead of a simple book summary; examinations of history that did and didn’t happen; examples of my love affair with words; reflections on the quotations, art, and wisdom of famous and not-so-famous people, and occasional comments on politics and human nature.

Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

 

Book review: Grace Notes

Is it prose or poetry?

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My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 53 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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