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A review by eely225
Shakespeare's King Lear by William Shakespeare
5.0
8/13/18
The play that is too much. Beginning with Lear inviting his family into darker matters, paranoia and madness, authentic and donned, create a stifling atmosphere, making the play more intimidating than inviting. The plot is driven throughout, even in its mad soliloquies, there is a pulsing dread that draws each character deeper into their state as victim or victimizer.
As with any worthwhile Shakespeare play, this is mostly worthwhile for its many interpretive angles. There's so much ambiguity around Lear himself, as well as how the audience should read its central conflicts, how Edmund should come across, and the role of Edgar in reluctantly rising to the occasion. I rate this highly knowing that there's a great deal there, not knowing that I know what all is there. The greatness and the great fall of Lear, the time-defying prophecies of the Fool, the self-destructive fixations of so many: there's a lot to parse, and it's hard to do alone.
I happened to read a text that include excerpts from Harold Bloom's larger work on Shakespeare. Although it doesn't totally work as a standalone chapter, I'm glad I was able to process after reading the play with it. He highlighted several components of Lear's characterization, as well as Edgar's central role, that I missed on (2nd) reading. He must, as always, be taken with some grain of salt, but who among us must not?
7/5/19
I don't have a ton to add from when I read this last year. I think I actually found less significance in the Fool this time around. I read him more like a theatrical device, speaking directly to the audience, instead of a fantastic creature of time-defying capacity.
What stuck with me more this time around than last is a particularly old thought on Lear: just how insane is he? His rationality comes in waves and does not move in just one direction. It's interesting to see that this is not simply a tale of his coming undone, but he undoes himself on the heath, then is brought back into society, given regal stature, and is undone again. How much of this is a reasonable response and how much is he losing touch? If he is someone who "hath ever but slenderly known himself," then how much of this is a productive act of attaining self-knowledge and how much is unnecessary self-destruction?
Also, how do we square France's avowed interest in Cordelia alone with his later invasion of Britain? Was this an effort to claim the lands that should have been Cordelia's? Or some kind of rescue mission gone wrong for Lear? Is France's absence telling or skirting around a logical inconvenience? I'm not sure, but I'll enjoy engaging with these questions again.
The play that is too much. Beginning with Lear inviting his family into darker matters, paranoia and madness, authentic and donned, create a stifling atmosphere, making the play more intimidating than inviting. The plot is driven throughout, even in its mad soliloquies, there is a pulsing dread that draws each character deeper into their state as victim or victimizer.
As with any worthwhile Shakespeare play, this is mostly worthwhile for its many interpretive angles. There's so much ambiguity around Lear himself, as well as how the audience should read its central conflicts, how Edmund should come across, and the role of Edgar in reluctantly rising to the occasion. I rate this highly knowing that there's a great deal there, not knowing that I know what all is there. The greatness and the great fall of Lear, the time-defying prophecies of the Fool, the self-destructive fixations of so many: there's a lot to parse, and it's hard to do alone.
I happened to read a text that include excerpts from Harold Bloom's larger work on Shakespeare. Although it doesn't totally work as a standalone chapter, I'm glad I was able to process after reading the play with it. He highlighted several components of Lear's characterization, as well as Edgar's central role, that I missed on (2nd) reading. He must, as always, be taken with some grain of salt, but who among us must not?
7/5/19
I don't have a ton to add from when I read this last year. I think I actually found less significance in the Fool this time around. I read him more like a theatrical device, speaking directly to the audience, instead of a fantastic creature of time-defying capacity.
What stuck with me more this time around than last is a particularly old thought on Lear: just how insane is he? His rationality comes in waves and does not move in just one direction. It's interesting to see that this is not simply a tale of his coming undone, but he undoes himself on the heath, then is brought back into society, given regal stature, and is undone again. How much of this is a reasonable response and how much is he losing touch? If he is someone who "hath ever but slenderly known himself," then how much of this is a productive act of attaining self-knowledge and how much is unnecessary self-destruction?
Also, how do we square France's avowed interest in Cordelia alone with his later invasion of Britain? Was this an effort to claim the lands that should have been Cordelia's? Or some kind of rescue mission gone wrong for Lear? Is France's absence telling or skirting around a logical inconvenience? I'm not sure, but I'll enjoy engaging with these questions again.