It’s not just the plots. It’s not just the poetry. It’s not just the allusion.
Shakespeare uses English in a way very few other authors do, and this in itself makes him a great way to learn about close reading. Admittedly, handing him to someone who hasn’t done much of it is like teaching a person to cook by giving them a recipe for a very delicate souffle.
When I took Shakespeare in college, we had to analyze every blasted word in every blasted play we read. And at the beginning I thought this was pointless and cruel. We had to spend hours daily poring over these plays, noting down repetition of different words, of phrases, of imagery, colors, numbers. Our professor knew she could not give us an entire classical education in one class, but she gave us the foundations to learn more. Those who worked and tried found amazing rewards at the end. That one class changed the way I read, the way I watch movies, the way I listen to other people. I can catch the clues in cadence and in repetition almost without thinking now.
That doesn’t mean Shakespeare became easy. I was in a theater troupe that did A Comedy of Errors last year. Some of the language was obscure, the plot was contrived and twisted, and there were scenes we had a hard time figuring out how to handle. And while our first and our last shows were in general for crowds that are more likely to be “in to” this kind of thing (the first was for friends and family, the last for a big event for the Society for Creative Anachronism), the second show was incredibly well received. People were howling with laughter.
Take this, for example. General idea of what’s going on – Antipholus and Dromio are suffering from a case of mistaken identity. Luciana has just about had enough of Dromio pretending he’s not the family slave. Luciana is also supposed to be smokin’:
It took a few readings of Dromio’s last lines there to get the double entendres, and the actor made it a lot clearer by doing a nice little air-hump. This is nothing to the scene with this same Antipholus and Dromio when the latter meets the cook who thinks she’s his fiancee. People were spewing their drinks and falling out laughing. This was, incidentally, a crowd full of Texans… The play’s basically a big long list of dick and fart jokes (especially how we did it – a LOT of visual humor and wackiness going on in the background).
It’s not that there’s some Puritanical (the irony of using THAT word to relate to Shakespeare is entertainingly ironic, let me tell you) love of pain when it comes to this stuff. It’s more that as hard as it can be to wade through his language, there are some amazing rewards at the end unparalleled by nearly every modern author. Few others even come close. And if it’s not your thing… well, you’re missing out, but I’m sure I’m missing out on how awesome Heroes is, the subtleties of football, and the intricacies of indie rock.