I wanted to read The Tempest at some point for two reasons.
- I would like to read Margaret Atwood's Hag-Seed one day. But I have never seen any productions of The Tempest and don't really know the story very well.
- I have never read a play before that I had not already seen a theatre, movie or TV production of (I don't count seeing Return to the Forbidden Planet in 1991 at the Cambridge theatre, London, as I remember absolutely nothing about it!)
So I added it to my Classics Club List #2 and it came up during the last CC Spin.
I was curious to know how easy it would be to read an unknown play.
It was not.
Easy, that is.
I struggled to gather any information about the characters. I couldn't pick up any inflections, tone or tempo from the bare words on the page. I didn't know if the various speeches were meant to funny, sad or ironic. There were simply not enough clues for me to work it out on my own.
In the end I let the words just wash over me. I gave up trying to remember who was speaking to whom, except for Prospero, Miranda and Ariel.
Early on I picked up on the hag-seed reference to Caliban though,
Save for the son that she did litter here,
A feckled whelp hag-born.
and realised this must be the point of entry for Atwood's version of the story. But again, who was Caliban? I couldn't work it out from the text in from of me.
Was he a hero or anti-hero, a bad guy or just misunderstood? Was he an 'other', a victim or villain, foolish, naive or tragic?
Does he represent the natural world as being uncivilised? Or does he show up the civilised world as being cruel and domineering? Is he inhuman or beast, untamed or rebel, monster or noble savage?
Perhaps, though, it is this very doubt and openness to interpretation that makes Shakepeare's plays so great. Caliban can be any or all or none of these things, depending on the reader, the director, the times or the lens.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me.
When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
Water with berries in't, and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:Cursed be I that did so!
All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o' the island.
The only thing I really gleaned about Caliban is that his mother was called Sycorax and she was banished to the island pregnant and unmarried. I'm not sure who the father was, but Caliban is certainly the quintessential bastard son. He was living on the island alone, when Prospero and Miranda arrived. They took him in, cared for him, used his knowledge of the island, then took offence when he wanted to make babies with Miranda ['Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else this isle with Calibans.'] It would be very easy to view this play through a post-colonialism lens.
There is much speculation about the name Caliban. The predominate one being that it is an anagram of canibal (Spanish spelling) with more than a passing nod to Montaigne's essay Of Cannibal.
One of Caliban's most famous speeches (below) was the inspiration behind Caliban's Dream as performed by Sir Kenneth Branagh at the opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I awaked,
I cried to dream again!
Literary references also abound, with the most well-known one coming from Oscar Wilde, '
The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass. The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.'
The Tempest was first performed at Court in 1611 and was probably the last play written by Shakespeare.
My version of the play was an
EMCP access edition PDF.
I'm not sure I will ever read an unknown play again. I'm obviously one of those people who needs to see a play to make sense of it. There is an art to reading a play that I do not have the skill to unpack.
The only real satisfaction I got from this one (besides spotting the famous quotes and making the Caliban/Hag-Seed connection) was the post-reading research.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Since writing this post, I've been thinking about and talking about which Shakespeare play is my favourite. Turns out it's harder to answer this question than I initially thought. Mr Books comes down on the side of A Merchant of Venice, which I do like a lot. But I tend to be a little more frivolous and romantic when it comes to Shakespeare and I'm leaning towards Much Ado About Nothing or Taming of the Shrew. But then again, I've seen so many different versions of Romeo and Juliet over the years, it feels like the play I know best of all.
But if I really had to pick a favourite, it might just be Macbeth.
Out damn spot and double, double, toil, and trouble.
Witches, the conniving Lady Macbeth and the guilty, tormented Macbeth.
Political intrigue, psychological angst and power struggles.
It all makes for great drama and tension.
The original why-dunnit.
What about you?
What's your favourite Shakespeare?
