I got in an argument once with a guy who was dismissing white, Anglo-Saxon culture, saying it was overrated and overrepresented. He thought Americans needed to learn about other cultures, and other artists, who were just as good, if not better.
I was like: better than Beethoven? Better than Shakespeare? Better than Led Zeppelin?
In ‘The Tempest,’ there was no basic reality. Characters could become invisible if they felt like it. They could live for years on desert islands without food.
I said: Even if these other artists were as good, I didn’t grow up within those artistic traditions. Those artists aren’t my ancestors. That isn’t the culture I was born into!
A sense of shame
I don’t remember how the argument ended. But I remember as I walked away, feeling uneasy. I felt like a fraud.
The truth was: I knew very little about Beethoven or his music, except for his short piece “Fur Elise,” which I was forced to learn on the piano when I was 9.
I did know a lot about Led Zeppelin. They were my favorite band through my teen years. I’d read all the biographies. I’d seen all the movies. I knew all the songs. I was pretty much a superfan.
And then there was the small problem of Shakespeare, one of the greatest literary figures in the Western tradition. That problem was … I’d never read any of his plays.
How hast thou not read any of my plays?
As a child, we had a beautiful collection of Shakespeare’s complete works prominently displayed in our living room.
I wasn’t intimidated by this collection. Or worried by it. At some later date, I would be old enough and smart enough to read them.
But that date came a little sooner than I expected. My sophomore year in high school, my English class was assigned “The Merchant of Venice.”
OK, I thought. I’ve got this.
I procured the play. I opened it to the first page. I started to read, and … I got nothing.
I was instantly lost. What were these people talking about? I couldn’t make any sense of it, whatsoever.
How dost thou not grasp my meaning?
The first issue was: I didn’t know half the words. Like, what exactly does “ado” mean? The words I did know weren’t in a logical order. I also didn’t know when the sentences stopped or started.
Another obstacle: All the characters in “The Merchant of Venice” were Italian. There was Salerio and Stephano and Solanio and Salarino. How was I supposed to keep these people straight?
Ghosts, goblins, etc.
“The Tempest,” which we also read my sophomore year, was even more difficult. There were nonhumans to contend with. There were ghosts, spirits, witches, sprites. What exactly was a “sprite”?
In “The Tempest,” there was no basic reality. Characters could become invisible if they felt like it. They could live for years on desert islands without food. Ships could be moved great distances via medieval teleportation. A dashing prince could be drowned in a stormy sea and then reappear in someone’s cave, alive, refreshed, and in all his regal finery.
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Sophia Institute Press
Higher education
Needless to say, I had to fake my way through high school Shakespeare. In college, I avoided any class with the great bard on the syllabus.
But then I became a writer myself. Which created an ethical problem. How could I participate in the English literary tradition if I had no knowledge of its most fundamental works?
Guidance of the Lambs
Fortunately, many years later, in a used bookstore, I came across a paperback book called “Tales from Shakespeare” by Charles and Mary Lamb. Which was first published in … 1807!
This was a very old book. And yet the edition I was holding had been published just a few years before.
That meant that “Tales from Shakespeare” had been in print for more than 200 years! It was nearly as popular as the Sweet Swan of Avon himself!
“Tales” turned out to be prose renderings — short stories — of 20 of Shakespeare’s greatest works. It was originally intended for children, to prepare them for the actual texts.
So here was a case of “explain it to me like I’m 5,” but the 1807 version!
Just for children?
Naturally, I assumed these simplified prose versions of the plays would be of no use to me as an adult.
But reading the Lambs’ version of “The Tempest” right there in the bookstore, I felt immediately how authentic and compelling it was. The Lambs’ version was far superior to any CliffsNotes or academic synopses I’d read. (And I’d read a lot.)
Maybe it was because Charles and Mary Lamb were such ardent fans, were British, and better understood Shakespeare’s time and place.
Whatever the reason, these “tales for children” had a kind of magic to them. Which explained why they were still being read today. It felt like Shakespeare’s original genius was somehow present in these simple retellings of his plays.
Over the years, I have consulted this book many times. These children’s versions make the plays come to life. Finally, I was getting a real sense of William Shakespeare the writer: his personality, his humor, his trippy psychedelic side.
Go forth and defend the West!
So the next time you’re defending the Western canon from some woke, bicoastal, mid-wit, make sure you’ve read Charles and Mary Lamb’s “Tales from Shakespeare.”
Once you’ve felt the true genius of Shakespeare in your heart (via the Lamb family), you will have no trouble vanquishing the enemies of the West!
Culture, Education, Shakespeare, Woke, Lifestyle, English literature, Western canon, Blake’s progress, Led zeppelin
