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loreofyupu 's review for:
Hamnet
by Maggie O'Farrell
For all my big talk, it's a bit embarrassing to admit that I haven’t actually read Hamlet, the play. I first picked up Hamnet under the mistaken impression that it was a modern retelling of Hamlet and, as someone still intimidated by Shakespearean language, I figured it might be a good gateway into the original text—which I did intend to read eventually.
But if you’ve read the book, you’ll know it’s not a retelling at all. It’s more of a fictionalised biography, inspired by the sparse historical record of Shakespeare’s life. I was initially disappointed when I realised this, thinking I’d veered off course from my goal. But now that I’ve finished the book, I don’t feel that way anymore. The empathy I developed for the man behind the works (especially after the climax) and the "insider" context I gained has only fuelled my desire to read Hamlet, to look at it from a lens that I would not have put on had I not read Hamnet. So for that, I am grateful.
I realise I’m being a bit reductive here, because Maggie O’Farrell’s novel deserves to be discussed on its own merit and not merely in relation to the play. There are moments of striking imagination and lyrical writing (though occasionally, the prose does meander).
In 2016, I visited the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-upon-Avon and walked the very paths the people in Hamnet must have frequently traversed. It was a little surreal to draw parallels between my memory of the site as a historical landmark vs. the book’s depiction of the same property in its heyday. That contrast is something I’m endlessly fascinated by —
imagining what places of the past must have felt like in their prime, brimming with the life they were meant to serve. Hamnet satisfies that itch by capturing the essence of a typical Tudor household, buzzing with activity as the women go about their daily chores. Descriptions of the mundane are particularly compelling when they’re from another era. But amidst all the mundanity, there are also some unexpected elements of magical realism, which makes sense given the spirit of the era.
However, like many other readers, the most breathtaking point of the narrative for me was when a flea turns into a full-fledged character. The story mostly stays rooted in just two locations, so at times it does drag a little. But suddenly – as a microscopic flea takes centre stage and you're swept across oceans with it, meeting a whole cast colourful of characters along the way, like a glassblower from Murano and a seafaring cat – excitement strikes. That was, to me, O’Farrell at her most brilliant, and I’d love to see her lean into that style more in future works (maybe she has already; I don't claim to know).
On an additional note, I'm not sure what it says about me, but I found it hard to connect with the long-winded section detailing Agnes' grief that others said to have found emotionally wrenching. I could understand her pain and sympathise with her as a character, but I didn’t feel entirely immersed in it. Empathy has never been my strongest suit, though, so take that with a grain of salt. (Although there have been books in the past that drained me emotionally—I guess it just depends.)
All being said, I am looking forward to the film adaptation set to release later this year. Perhaps by then, I will have finally read Hamlet and then some.
But if you’ve read the book, you’ll know it’s not a retelling at all. It’s more of a fictionalised biography, inspired by the sparse historical record of Shakespeare’s life. I was initially disappointed when I realised this, thinking I’d veered off course from my goal. But now that I’ve finished the book, I don’t feel that way anymore. The empathy I developed for the man behind the works (especially after the climax) and the "insider" context I gained has only fuelled my desire to read Hamlet, to look at it from a lens that I would not have put on had I not read Hamnet. So for that, I am grateful.
I realise I’m being a bit reductive here, because Maggie O’Farrell’s novel deserves to be discussed on its own merit and not merely in relation to the play. There are moments of striking imagination and lyrical writing (though occasionally, the prose does meander).
In 2016, I visited the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-upon-Avon and walked the very paths the people in Hamnet must have frequently traversed. It was a little surreal to draw parallels between my memory of the site as a historical landmark vs. the book’s depiction of the same property in its heyday. That contrast is something I’m endlessly fascinated by —
imagining what places of the past must have felt like in their prime, brimming with the life they were meant to serve. Hamnet satisfies that itch by capturing the essence of a typical Tudor household, buzzing with activity as the women go about their daily chores. Descriptions of the mundane are particularly compelling when they’re from another era. But amidst all the mundanity, there are also some unexpected elements of magical realism, which makes sense given the spirit of the era.
However, like many other readers, the most breathtaking point of the narrative for me was when a flea turns into a full-fledged character. The story mostly stays rooted in just two locations, so at times it does drag a little. But suddenly – as a microscopic flea takes centre stage and you're swept across oceans with it, meeting a whole cast colourful of characters along the way, like a glassblower from Murano and a seafaring cat – excitement strikes. That was, to me, O’Farrell at her most brilliant, and I’d love to see her lean into that style more in future works (maybe she has already; I don't claim to know).
On an additional note, I'm not sure what it says about me, but I found it hard to connect with the long-winded section detailing Agnes' grief that others said to have found emotionally wrenching. I could understand her pain and sympathise with her as a character, but I didn’t feel entirely immersed in it. Empathy has never been my strongest suit, though, so take that with a grain of salt. (Although there have been books in the past that drained me emotionally—I guess it just depends.)
All being said, I am looking forward to the film adaptation set to release later this year. Perhaps by then, I will have finally read Hamlet and then some.