Andrew Scott was playing Hamlet at the Harold Pinter. Robert Icke's production for The Almeida, now with a West End traHamlet at the Harold Pinter
Andrew Scott was playing Hamlet at the Harold Pinter. Robert Icke's production for The Almeida, now with a West End transfer. Wow! Had to watch it. After 3-4 days of struggle, finally got lucky with tickets and there I was. Blown Away!
After coming back I sat down to write a bit on it, and ended up writing a 12k+ words review. In case you have some time to kill, head over and read it. If not, I will just take the likes, thank you.
[If you have been lucky enough to watch the production, then I hope you will take the time to read and comment.]
Hamlet at the Harold Pinter: A Scene-by-Scene Commentary
I have tried to capture my experience of the play, it is hardly comparable to being there, but I had to write this long commentary so that I don’t forget what it felt like to watch this amazing performance, and so that I preserve for myself the thoughts and feelings that were evoked through it.
A spartan set greets the audience, which in addition to the lack of anything royal about it, also has a few unexpected elements. A large sofa to one corner, two-three steel chairs to either side, and what looks like a steam-punk console of some sorts to one corner.
Act 1 Scene 1
To the immediate surprise of the spectators, the play opens with large flat TV screens switching on all around them with weird footages playing in them.
Instead of a guard platform we get a CCTV observation room. The guards look flustered and soon, of course, Horatio enters (in some style I must say, much more casual in attire compared to the stiff suited guards).
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Marcellus and Barnardo resume their attempts to convince Horatio (one is to assume somehow the CCTVs could not record the supernatural stuff, I guess) of what they have seen when all of a sudden horrific static erupts in the theater and the dead King appears on-screen, ominous and really really spooky. A collective gasp from the audience at this. It was pretty effective - considering the Dane had only come on screen yet - the audience has not been introduced to the real ghost yet. I wondered if all ghost scenes would be thorough CCTVs… that would be a pity even if it went pretty splendidly this time. After all how would the father-son equation, which is the core of the play, play out through CCTVs? In any case, even as Scholar Horatio tries to hail the Ghost (who is in military attire, as a modern parallel to the armor worn by the original), there is a minor explosion at the console and the Ghost had disappeared from the screens as abruptly as it had appeared.
Before the scene concludes Horatio quickly updates the soldiers about what is happening in the kingdom and why security is so tight these days: The old King killed his rival King of Norway, Fortinbras, and conquered his territories. Now his (Norway’s) son, in revenge, is attempting to take back his territories with a small band of rag-tag outlaws he had gathered. Mark that from this it doesn’t feel like Fortinbras had any chance of defeating Denmark, but then an internal revenge drama will facilitate the external revenge drama. Pretty sweet, right? This is something that is often overlooked I guess, but maybe there was a poetic symmetry to this as well.
The Ghost makes another abrupt appearance, throwing the guards and Horatio into another frenzy. More frantic fiddling of the dials, etc. ensue (to be honesty this time it felt a bit comic, the reactions).
Ghost exits. It faded on the crowing of the cock - the guards quickly trying to explain away the unknown with the presumed known, finding some comfort in their astute understanding of how the supernatural world is supposed to function. We have to make everything conform to rules, absurd rules may it be.
They decide that they have to inform Hamlet of what has been happening here.
Scene closes to some stunning music and the stage goes pitch black. Obviously some stage rearrangement was underway in the darkness, though I am unsure how they manage to do so in that darkness. Must take some deft hands.
Act 1, Scene 2
The shady guard-room is transformed now into a stunning Titanic-movie-ball-room like atmosphere with golden draperies, sliding glass doors, elegant women with wine glasses, and fine music in the background. For a moment Denmark doesn’t feel like a place of omens and forebodings, but like a late evening at the Buckingham Palace (sans all the chinese tourists).
Claudius looks stately and kingly dealing with the matter of Fortinbras in very efficient style, and at this point no one could clearly have imagined that Denmark could be under any threat under such efficient management.
This is the moment when it hits you that the play is not going to bowl you over with the visual spectacle of medieval costumes and regalia. It feels more like a very elegant boardroom or a modern Lord’s mansion than the royal court in which you would have imagined these scenes playing out normally. This means that this play has to transport you all on itself, without much help from the visuals - which is quite apart from the normal theater or movie-going experience nowadays. I have a slight pang of regret that I am missing out on the costumes, but it is not as if we have a shortage of medieval costumes on TV these days.
And then, and then… A thin school boyish young man in what looks like a well-worn black tee traipses across the stage, a small ottoman in hand, and plants himself in one corner. The audience leans as one trying to get a glance at this moody, almost “emo” (forgive me) presence. Hamlet had entered he building folks, and it was electric. He had not uttered a word yet but he had captured the stage, he had filled the whole of it just by being in one corner of it. I knew then that this was going to be awesome. There were goosebumps. And just to clarify I was not a fan of Moriarty, or of what I had seen till then of Stewart’s acting. In fact I was skeptical that he can pull off a Hamlet after what I deemed as definite overacting as far as Moriarty was concerned, especially in the later episodes (Miss me? Miss me? Oh, just get the heck off!). But there was something about the entrance that immediately threw all my doubts out of the window.
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Claudius tries to introduce his son with some lame humor, but Andrew with the first quip, about being too-much-in-the-sun gets a too-much-in-the-rain British audience going immediately. It is really easy with the British, when it comes to weather jokes of course. Of course, the original joke about cloud-sun-son-cousin-son is also not lost in this, and the audience cheerfully laugh for both the original and the modern joke. This sort of personalization of dialogues is what Scott pulls off throughout the play - he never fiddles with the dialogues, and not a word is out-of-place (as he has to advice later against ad-libbing, this is only appropriate - this is one play you can never ad-lib!), but just by looking at the audience or half-smiling at the audience he makes them see other meanings in those words and react exactly as he wants. A master conductor of the audience he was throughout, and the way he conducted the audience (including this willing participant) was the true spectacle at the Harold Pinter that night.
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Gertrude’s first foray is to ask Hamlet to cut short his grief and the exchange really rubs in the fact that Hamlet feels his raw grief cannot be so easily cast aside, while Gertrude is insistent in asking him to do exactly that. Scott later says suppressed grief is for him one of the keys to the play, so this takes on special significance for me in hindsight. Claudius also pitches in with some ineffectual self-help wisdom about how all living things die and blah blah blah - as this Hamlet wouldn’t hesitate to characterize it.
In any case, Hamlet is convinced to stay back in court, albeit probably still in Black. A quick royal photo shoot before they disperse.
And then comes the first monologue - I was looking forward to this - Scott had proven he can use humor, especially dark humor, effectively to play the audience and establish himself, but a true Hamlet lives and dies by his monologues - and I was eager to see how this one would go, especially since this monologue is what will introduce the audience to the inner workings of Hamlet’s mind, to the anguish that torments him and again, to the extent of the grief that he is being asked to curtail.
I leaned forward with the rest of the audience as Hamlet moved to the front of the stage and looked up at us to confide in us, to let us overhear his thoughts, to use Bloom’s terminology. The theater descended into silence as if we had entered another theater - the solemn one inside Hamlet’s mind - and after a long pause Scott’s voice gently started essaying. No firm utterances, almost a whisper, as if he was slowly constructing these thoughts, as if they were coming to him then and there. Stuttering, half-audible, the words came, and I felt as if at least a few in audience would surely tip over now, straining to catch the words. The tension was being built up, and I could see that Scott was the master of this too. He was showing us how monologues are nothing but thoughts - Hamlet was not delivering a monologue, he was just alone and thinking just like any of us. An everyday occurrence. The mighty, formidable monologues of Shakespeare had been tamed right in front of us, mysterious no more - they were going to be easy and accessible today in Scott’s hands. It was a relief as well as a mild let down - grandeur was not on stage today, reality was. Mirror to nature, indeed.
Gradually the muttered tirade about sullied flesh and unweeded garden rose to an audible pitch and the worried audience could finally make sense of what was being half-whispered. They leaned back a bit as they entered familiar territory with Hamlet talking about what a man his father was, about how his mother doted on him. And then, and then… within a month of his passing, Hamlet appeals to us, as if to a close friend… and turns away from the thought, breaking our hearts.
Now comes the first famous quote - I was on the lookout for this too - will Scott bombastically stress the famous quotations - because that will always engage the audience since they would recognize it and feel good about themselves… An easy win for a Shakespearean actor. I wanted to see how the famous Shakespearisms (?) would be handled.
Frailty, thy name is woman! Hamlet cries out in frustration. Within a month he says, couldn’t you have mourned longer? Within a month - married my uncle… and here Scott pauses in the midst of this anguished cry of Hamlet, steps out from Hamlet’s skin and becomes himself for a second, just part of the audience. This was a moment of unquestionable genius for me - a moment when Scott brought in a cultural reference, made the play supremely accessible and also eased any worries of his audience by proving that he is completely on their side; just another bloke like them who enjoys the same type of stuff that they do. He effectively told them I am just one of you and we are going to have a ball with Hamlet - which is nothing to be scared of, but is in fact super-duper fun.
How did he do that?
Again, after saying she married my uncle, he paused, stepped out of character and gave a mischievous look to the audience before uttering the next line with a lot of emphasis - My father’s brother.
The audience exploded into laughter as we realized what he meant - uncle, yes, but not My mother’s brother folks, this is not Game of Thrones! - that is what the look conveyed. And Scott waited patiently for the laughter and relief of the audience to die down before picking up on his monologue/thoughts. From that moment onwards Scott had achieved what Shakespeare probably did back in the day - getting the audience thoroughly comfortable in the idea of actually enjoying a masterpiece instead of getting caught up in venerating it.
To me this was genius, especially because of the risk involved - to attempt laughter in the midst of the monologue that basically sets up the Hamlet character… it was a tightrope, but Scott was the perfect maestro again - he got us tense, he got us light and laughing, and from the next moment got us fully back into Hamlet and his grief again, and had us all feeling the foreboding as he concluded that it cannot come to good… I think I forgot to breathe for a few minutes.
Horatio interrupts at the right time, to the relief of everyone including the audience and perhaps Hamlet himself. They embrace and laugh and the audience is made aware that this chap Horatio is a chap they can also trust. We are not going to question Hamlet on these matters, not tonight.
Another moment of mirth for the audience as Hamlet says I think I see my father, and Horatio and Marcello jerks in genuine comic fright. Horatio then begins the painful task of telling Hamlet that he had indeed seen his father… Hamlet seems to take Horatio at his word on this and agrees to come and see for himself at the observatory.
Act 1, Scene 3
Ophelia is introduced to the audience, along with her brother Laertes, as well as her father a bit down the line. Come to think of it, the whole family is pretty much introduced and established in this one scene. And it is my duty to report that the scene and much of the play was henceforth stolen and made his own by Polonius. Peter Wight, as Polonius, was brilliant and held the play together, truly.
Perhaps as an invention, here the scene opens with Hamlet and Ophelia making out before Laertes interrupts them, forcing Hamlet to hide behind the couch - which means that Hamlet is present, hidden away but visible to audience, for the rest of the scene.
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Laertes, packing to go for France, gets on the bad side of the audience very early as he is intent on advising Ophelia to not mess around with Hamlet.
Laertes had earlier asked the King’s permission to go to France, was granted the same, and thus his very small initial role rapidly approaches its end… This is when Polonius, the light of this show, shines brightly and establishes himself as the audience favorite!
Polonius comes in to hurry Laertes on his way, but not before the pithy man has given his share of self-help tips. The spate of avuncular advises are delivered in a masterly way by Wight, and has the audience in splits throughout - though the audience is also, along with Laertes, earnestly hoping for the commonplaces to end. Laertes turns to depart three times, but is pulled back by Polonius to hear more about being neither a lender nor a borrower, a whole rendition of Kipling’s If, etc. (I exaggerate, of course).
Then Polonius, having lost Laertes turns his advising prowess upon Ophelia’s love-life. Trying hard to summarize his own words multiple times, finally he sums it all up by asking Ophelia to not spend her leisure with Hamlet. Ophelia agrees with a wink to the audience and the audience is thrilled in having such a lovable villain in Polonius to troll for the rest of the evening.
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The scene ends very agreeably for the audience. Things are going very nicely and there is a lively energy buzzing across the theater. Nice music too. Clearly, we are in for a lot of Bob Dylan tonight.
Act 1, Scene 4
However, the audience is immediately spooked mightily by the sudden descent of pitch darkness and eerie music. It is the graveyard shift. Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus are visible now; we are back in the guard platform and it is Scooby-Doo time, everyone!
Cue eerie music, static on the speakers, and the CCTV screens start acting up. The royal Dane appears and Hamlet entreats speech. The king in the screen motions to Hamlet to approach. Hamlet goes closer. Marcellus utters the classic lines “something is rotten in the state of Denmark” and follows with Horatio.
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And then…
The stage goes dark again and then starts alternating between light and dark, as if lightning was striking repeatedly. Loud static and spooky sounds fill the theater, the dead King’s face comes closer and closer and fills all the TV screens on stage, and then in one blinding flash the Ghost appears, in the flesh, in front of Hamlet - the effect was scintillating, since until now we had the image and now we had the thing. Hamlet touches the ghost and is able to touch. The father and son in the flesh, together. All the build-up was worth it for this one moment.
The royal Dane preps Hamlet with the backstory and informs him that from now on art thou for revenge. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. Yes, murder! Murder most foul!
The serpent that did sting thy father’s life Now wears his crown.
And most importantly he was killed with no chance to repent for his sins, and hence he now roams as a ghost, plotting revenge. After importuning Hamlet to revenge his Murder, in another glorious spectacle the Dane vanishes.
Hamlet extracts a very strict promise (again and again!) from his friends to never repeat to anyone what happened there (presumably this promise is revoked at the end when Hamlet releases Horatio from the silence). This was an important scene as Scott clearly meant this to be an introduction to the audience to Hamlet’s dawning madness - after all, in one interpretation the madness might even have struck before the ghost appeared… In any case, his manner towards his friends have changed markedly, he is more frantic in speech, with more puns and hidden entendres in everything he says. The notebook also makes its appearance, as he notes down that it is possible to smile, smile and still be a villain.
Horatio utters his cue about how things are wondrous strange and I had my first let down as Hamlet said hurriedly, without any bravado -
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
I was expecting that with the dawning of madness being depicted there was license to give full flourish and bombast to this - as if to say that from here on out Horatio and the rest of the cast are being thrown into a new reality that is beyond ever dreamt by any of them.
However, Scott for some reason decided to downplay this awesome Shakespearism and hurried through it… and hurried on to extracting another sworn oath to secrecy that no matter how much stranger things get Horatio will never utter a word about the night. The ghost also joins in with a “Swear!” and Hamlet hurries his friends out, muttering “The time is out of joint. O cursèd spite, That ever I was born to set it right!”
****
Oh well, I am out of space here on GR and we barely finished Act 1 :)
A nice and simple, perhaps simplistic, translation. Rooted firmly in Shakaracharya's commentary but failing to convey the depth and power of the actuaA nice and simple, perhaps simplistic, translation. Rooted firmly in Shakaracharya's commentary but failing to convey the depth and power of the actual Upanishads. Just good enough to wet your feet before the swim. Ideally should not be the first read - shortcuts are not good here.
The raw verses are presented with barely any commentary, let alone on the interpretations, but even on the translation itself. I bet the new reader would be quite suspicious halfway into the book whether this easy stuff is really the much hyped Upanishads.
Best presented verse:
The sacred syllable is the bow, the Self is the arrow, Brahman is declared the target. Undistracted, one should pierce it, and like the arrow, become united with it.
Can Physics account fully for the mysteries of Biology? This is what Schrödinger wants to know. He ends up writing something half-mystical, half-radicCan Physics account fully for the mysteries of Biology? This is what Schrödinger wants to know. He ends up writing something half-mystical, half-radical and fully-confusing, as Manny says in another review to this book. Now the beauty of any sufficiently confusing book by a good/great scientist is that it is capable of triggering inspiration many times over.
These lectures which are mostly musings on a nascent new branch of science (genetics) in the light of another nascent new branch of science (quantum physics) inspired Haldane, Watson, Crick, Wilkins, etc. to take some of the greatest scientific leaps of the modern world. We shouldn't bet against it inspiring more even today - perhaps the next round of disciples will come from among the ones who pursue AI today? Just a hunch....more
Will’s first tentative venture - and it tells a lot about the play that one of the reasons it is considered so is precisely The Two Cads of Verona
Will’s first tentative venture - and it tells a lot about the play that one of the reasons it is considered so is precisely because of the quality of the play! The critics just couldn’t imagine that Shakespeare would stumble and stoop and be so clumsy once he knew his way around the theater. What can I say, it was cute. Yup, cute, if I should leave it at that, and more if I need not...
Friendship, Betrayal, Love, Displacement and finally Reconciliation: these themes are present in nascent undeveloped forms. But they convey no depth and no “invention of the human”. They do not move the reader’s soul like they do in more powerful plays.
In fact, one could argue that The Merchant of Venice picks up some of the aspects of this play such as supposedly-loyal-friendship & loyal-lover-in-disguise; and perhaps King Lear and Othello the aspect of betrayal-by-best-buddy; perhaps even A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s exploration of the restorative virtues of a magical displacement from the ordinary to restore order to the world — but they all do so without the irritating naivete of the betrayer, the cloyingly easy reconciliation or the jarring effects induced by the transition, respectively. Besides, they do so with much better dramatic structure/tension and dialogues which are not best forgotten.
Add to all this that the “Gentlemen” of the play are so far from being gentlemen of any sort - the play is filled with either idiocy or lies/betrayal by one of the two heroes, including an act of rape and immediate forgiveness, in addition to assorted instances of general unconcern for the female view of things. It is hard to not be a bit angry at Shakespeare for being so callous — unless we take refuge in the calming words of critics who assure us that Shakespeare was deftly playing male-male friendship against male-female love in this play — and here friendship emerges superior to love, which was merely an unnecessary disturbance in the orderly world of friendship (Typically explored in the juvenile “love-triangle” moves where a girl comes between two guy friends, and one has to sacrifice for the other). It might even be believable, this theory, if we imagine a very young Shakespeare writing the play (or planning the play) while skeptical of love, but with full knowledge of the joys of friendship. That is stretching it though, and I remain as disturbed by the ending of the play as I would have been if Othello had hugged Iago, forgiven him for his crimes and told him that if he wanted Desdemona, all he had to do was just ask. Friendship trumps love, right?
PROTEUS My shame and guilt confounds me. Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer As e'er I did commit.
VALENTINE Then I am paid; And once again I do receive thee honest. Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased. By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased: And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.
Despite all this, the play is fascinating in a historical context, if we move outside the play itself and look at the oeuvre. Then this could be a place where we can know a bit more about the master playwright’s craft than in other plays, for here some of the method shows through and that is worth revisiting the play for. As Charles Nicholl says:
“The play has its flaws, but in a sense they are part of its fascination. While the technical mastery of his mature comedies leaves one gasping, The Two Gentlemen has a kind of guileless transparency; it lets us in on its secrets. We see the young (or youngish) Shakespeare at work, the apprentice poet carefully blending the ingredients of love, confusion and drollery that will become familiar in subsequent comedies.”...more
In The Choephori, the bloodshed begun in the first play is continued (see Agamemnon for details, and for a discussion on translations). The theme of revenge and blood-curse continues to haunt the House of Atreus. At first glance it might seem as if there is indeed no end to this recurring tragedy that has been playing itself out in these intrigue-filled halls, but despite all the mirroring Aeschylus effects between the first and second plays (both have legitimate avenging missions, both weave a web of deceit, both murders the unsuspecting, both murderers are accompanied by unidimensional accomplices, both murders leave everlasting stains, both think that the buck will stop with them) that is supposed to show the inevitability of this tragic course/curse with no scope for a resolution, there are significant differences:
1. Clytaemestra acted alone, under her own sense of right and wrong; Orestes acts under the express direction and protection of Apollo himself. 2. Clytaemestra makes a token gesture of atonement by promising to give up her wealth but instead establishes a tyranny; Orestes is racked by guilt and renounces his position and wealth to atone for his crime. (I wonder who ruled the kingdom in his absence...) 3. Clytaemestra defends her actions and takes no steps to alleviate them by rituals, etc. until a nasty dream shakes her up; Orestes accepts his guilt immediately and takes protection under Apollo and does all the ritual cleansing and prostrations required. 4. Clytaemestra is probably egged on by Aegisthus's greed and allows him to benefit by her actions. Orestes turns to Pylades just once who only repeats Apollo's words and has no personal stake in the business. (though could it be that he becomes the regent in Orestes absence?) 5. Clytaemestra never hesitates in her deed of revenge and as an add-on murders an innocent (?) Cassandra too; Orestes shows his reluctance till he very last moment and had to be driven to his deed. He murders only the expressly guilty. (One has to wonder if Apollo was in fact avenging Cassandra and not Agamemnon!) 6. Most importantly Clytaemestra thinks she can be the final arbiter while Orestes is willing to allow himself to be judged by greater powers, be it the Gods, or the Law.
All this allows for hope that the ending of this second installment, of Orestes' story, and the punishment for his crime need not be externally imposed but might in fact be sanctioned by this modern man himself.
How exactly this will play out Aeschylus leaves for his climactic play, but the Greeks of his time would have been in no doubt as to where it was all leading and would have been eagerly awaiting the mythical re-imagination/show-down it would entail. Society is progressing, and like in Hegel it was all going to culminate in the Perfection of the Present!...more
Each of the plays that make up The Oresteia tetralogy are supposed to be stand alone pieces as well as perfect complements to each oth The First Strike
Each of the plays that make up The Oresteia tetralogy are supposed to be stand alone pieces as well as perfect complements to each other. All the themes that The Oresteia is to explore later are planted and ready for internal development at the end of Agamemnon. Aeschylus works magic with the triadic structure of the plays and of greek rituals (the fourth was probably a conventional satyr play and is lost to us) by going for a feeling of tit-for-tat of conventional revenge stories in the first two and a ‘third and final’ resolution in the third (though I feel game-theory wise a tit-for-two-tats additional play would have made for a good thought experiment!).
So in Agamemnon we are presented with the first strike -- and the tit-for-tat is ready, prophesied and waiting inevitably for the reader/viewer in the next part. It is the bleakest and most ominous ending to a play that I have witnessed because unlike a Hamlet, here there is no cosmic meaning to give us solace either. Agamemnon ends ominously and without significance-in-itself, leaving us with the feeling that the tragedy has just begun and there is a long road yet to be traversed before we can glimpse any possibility of a resolution.
A Note on the Translations
I have over the past several months read the whole play (only Agamemnon) in multiple translations. A few thoughts on each:
The Richmond Lattimore Translation: is sonorous and grand — quite impressive. You feel like you are really reading an ancient master, unlike in the Fagles version. However, it uses complex structures and hence the reading is not quite smooth. With Fagles you can just read on and on and never stop due to a complex phrasing or unclear meaning, but with lattimore you have to pause and rewind often to catch the exact drift.
The Robert Fagles Translation: is immediate and easy on the ear. It is also quite easy to grasp as the words do not form confusing structures as it does in the Lattimore translation. However I felt a certain something missing and couldn’t put my finger on it. I prefer the Lattimore version.
E.D.A Morshead Translation: Rhythmic but compromises on ease of reading to achieve the metric scheme. Could hardly grasp a thing on first reading of most verses. Has the advantage that it demarcates the Strophe, Antistrophe & Epode of each choral ode and that helps the reader visualize better. None of the other translations do this and I felt it was very useful.
The Alan Shapiro Translation: Written in beautiful blank verse, this is probably the best placed to merit first rank as a poetic work. Shapiro injects new power into the verse by his poetic take and provides a fresh perspective on almost all important scenes and imagery. But needs to be a supplementary read since it departs often from the other translations in sometimes subtle and sometimes significant ways. It tries to be an improvement on the Lattimore version but in my opinion it can at best be read as an additional indulgence by the reader already well acquainted with Lattimore.
The Headlam Translation: is bilingual and gives the Greek text on the facing page. This is useful in clarifying doubts arising from conflicting translations or interpretations. The translation itself is slightly long winded and pompous and does not strike the fine balance that Lattimore strikes between majesty and simplicity. Does provide the most elaborate stage directions and that is a plus as an aid to accurate visualization (which in my opinion can make or break your reading of almost-exotic plays).
The Denniston Commentary, the edition under which this review appears: is one which I have not read (and do not have access to) and in the interests of neutrality I have selected it — since it has no translation and is in fact the Greek text itself with english commentary, which seems to be widely accepted as some of the best scholastic commentary on the play.
I will add notes on other translations if and when I track them down....more
Heraclitus is all rolled into one. His fragments are tantalizing, hinting at a wisdom lost to us, but I am sure tha Philosopher-Poet-Prophet-Proverbist
Heraclitus is all rolled into one. His fragments are tantalizing, hinting at a wisdom lost to us, but I am sure that he meant them to be fragmentary, so that all he does for the reader is a quick nod in the direction of a distant window, leaving the reader to make the journey, to peep out, and to make of the sight what he will. In the sure knowledge that Heraclitus had pointed him there and whatever he sees there is worth interpreting.
“Things keep their secrets.”
Herclitus is often called a Wisdom-Poet, sharing kinship with the authors of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job. Such Wisdom-Poetry specializes in a special sort of pessimism -- one that frees the reader from the shackles of a cherished belief. Heraclitus does this repeatedly:
They raise their voices
at stone idols
as a man might argue
with his doorpost,
they have understood
so little of the gods.
Like Buddha, Heraclitus is known to have given up his throne to seek wisdom. He became the author of what is today often considered to the first philosophical treatise of the Western mind -- that tries to arrive at the truth through a discourse.
However, the philosophy is nascent in these writings, being more prophetic and poetic than a structured discourse, with ideas leading one into the other.
These aphorisms tread lightly, avoiding being an elitist composition open only to the initiated. Heraclitus makes himself mysterious and accessible at the same time. it is no wonder that most philosophers after him refer to him with an awe reserved for a master who first teaches one to truly see the world anew.
Except for the comically inadequate introduction by Harold Bloom, this book is a window to a whole new way of seeing the literary universe. In scope a Except for the comically inadequate introduction by Harold Bloom, this book is a window to a whole new way of seeing the literary universe. In scope and depth, it is an epic and no matter how cynically you approach it, Frye is going to awe you with sheer erudition and immaculate schematics. For anyone with a Platonic bent, Frye's work has the potential to become an immediate Bible.
It might take a while to get through and it might require you to convert a lot of Frye's work into shorter notes and diagrammatic notations, just to keep up with the density of the text, but at the end of it you will be exposed to an almost cosmic vision of Literature, comparable to that at the end of Paradiso.
It is worth the effort just for the sheer ambition of the work and for the bit of that ambition that will rub off on you, even if you reject everything else contained here.
Only Joyce might be able to teach you about the scope of literature in a more inspiring fashion than this poet-critic....more
The history of all hitherto existing society* is the history of class struggles.
* That is, all written history.
+++
We read the same written history and The history of all hitherto existing society* is the history of class struggles.
* That is, all written history.
+++
We read the same written history and read it as progress, as stories, etc. The real history, on the other hand, is something else. Played out differently. Yeah, that is the catch.
This was a reading of only the bare text (along with the many prefaces!). It was very powerful and I am now reading the Penguin edition with the really long introduction next. Will write more about this important book there.
In the mean time, it is hardly 40 pages - why haven't you read this yet? It is not often that you get the summary of one of the most influential thought-structures in history in under 40 pages! It was a rhetorical masterpiece too, by the way. ...more
Descartes probably had the best questions ever and the worst answers ever.
Questions: How can I know if reality is as I perceive it? If I exist? If GodDescartes probably had the best questions ever and the worst answers ever.
Questions: How can I know if reality is as I perceive it? If I exist? If God exists?
Answers: I can think, hence my mind exists, hence I exist. I can think of a god hence God exists. God must be good. A good God wouldn't fool me. So reality exists as I perceive it....more
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