Final Wrap Up

I thought I would do one final wrap up blog to sum up the semester, but I am afraid it will be merely dodderings told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. So I will leave you all with this video instead.

Microcosms and Microeconomics

Similar to Tristan, I myself am also an international business minor and empathized with Sam's presentation. There is somewhat of a dichotomy at play between the business major state of mind and the english major one, yet I don't think the void between the two is as vast as some would have it seem. Shakespeare's work is rife with microcosms and macrocosms, and by framing the business major in this light, one can find the connecting thread between these two mediums.

In order to illustrate my point, an example from my Microeconomics 204 class will be utilized. Economics is all about applying mathematics to real life concepts and policies. It may seem completely unrelated to the world of English Literature, but Tristan touched on an important subject when he elucidated for the class the ways in which Shakespeare can be translated into the language of Econ. Every microeconomic graph represents a story, condensed and simplified version of the larger picture. 

This graph will seem like gibberish to those who have not been trained in beginning economics (I still struggle, and there is a small possibility that I'm completely misinterpreting this example) but it is basically a microcosmic, graphic representation of a Bozeman Daily Chronicle article titled, "Is Economy Best Birth Control? U.S. Birth Rates Decline Again". This article states that as the economy declines, so does the rate of birth in the US.

The vertical, left hand side of the graph shows the income of a consumer at its initial level in 2007, and then the declining income as the depression hits in 2008. The horizontal line of the graph represents the total fertility rate for the consumer, first at its initial level in 2007, and then again after the depression struck. The curving lines titled U0 and U1 actualize the consumer's happiness level.  In 2007, the consumer's happiness level (referred to as utility) is farther right than the consumer's 2008 utility line. Graphically, these lines are saying that the consumer was better off in 2007 when her income was higher and she could afford more children than in 2008 when her income declined, and subsequently, the amount of children she could afford. 

This graph, while granted is in a completely different language then the one we english majors normally deal with, is simply a microcosmic sampling, a bottom translation if you will, of the english language we familiarize ourselves with on a daily basis. The larger picture is reflected in a small portion of space,  the macro echoed in the micro, and the similarities between the terms microeconomics and microcosms, as well as macroeconomics and macrocosms, are no mistake. The business major may seem like a completely different mindset than the english major state of being, but personally, I haven't found it to be so. I walk a balancing beam between both worlds, and just as I've been trained to do with literature, I've found connecting shafts between the two. In this class, we've discussed how art imitates life and life imitates art. This economics graph is, in its own language, a perfect artistic representation of life.  

Final Essay

At A Crossroads: The Presence of Hecate In King Lear

By Nicole Baker

Shakespeare drew from a variety of sources to build his literary masterpieces, not the least of them being mythos. He imbues his plays with mythological allusion and symbolism, using the tools of the genre to build a foundation for his work. By analyzing Shakespeare through the lens of mythos, one can ascertain its influence on his plays and the various invocations of mythological characters within them. King Lear is no exception to this; myth is prevalent in the play and one of the primary mythological characters that manifests its influence is the goddess/witch Hecate.

Hecate is a name that few recognize from the pantheon of greek mythology, yet that is where many claim she originated from. “She was the only child of the Titans Perses and Asteria, and through her ties to Leto, the cousin of the Olympian gods Artemis and Apollo” (Slayford-Wei). The first mention of Hecate in literature is mined from Hesoid’s Hymn to Hecate in which he depicts her as a benevolent goddess with powers founded in nature. Hecate’s later manifestations were not so morally neutral. Her initial reputation was corrupted by associations with ancient cults, and eventually, she transformed into a symbol of blood shed and violence. “Her association with witches and demons eroded and 'infernalized' her Olympian status, changing her completely into the Hecate we know from later traditions, the receiver of table scraps and canine blood” (Slayford-Wei). In Alex Aronson’s book titled Psyche and Symbol in Shakespeare, he describes the myth of Hecate as “an archetype of evil, fundamentally matriarchal in nature” (Aronson pg 229). Some sources say she is the mother of Scylla and one of the queens of the underworld. She is also called the goddess of crossroads, often symbolized by the number three. Hecate is said to have intimate knowledge of herbs, poisons and plants. Hecate appears (or is mentioned) several times in Shakespeare's plays, most notably in Hamlet, Macbeth, and King Lear. The latter is the play this essay will focus on. By analyzing King Lear through the eyes of Hecate, the reader can see how King Lear's curse to Cordelia in which he invokes the goddess' name skews the path of the play and sends it into its conclusion of mass bloodshed and death.

In Psyche and Symbol, Aronson reconstructs a Shakespearean archetype of Hecate, listing the characteristic attributes she depicts in the works of the playwright. “Once Hecate has been addressed in prayer, there is no return to normal living,” he writes (Aronson pg 232). This facet of the Hecate archetype is utterly true of King Lear. When Lear is attempting to divvy up his kingdom, Cordelia’s answer angers him in such a way that he curses her, invoking the goddess’ name in the process. Let it be so!/Thy truth then be thy dower!/ For, by the sacred radiance of the sun/ The mysteries of Hecate and the night/By all operations of the orbs/ From whom we do exist and cease to be/ Here I disclaim all my paternal care/ Propinquity, and property of blood/And as a stranger to my heart and me/ Hold thee from this for ever “(Act 1 Scene 1 Line 105-114).It is this curse that changes the direction of the entire story. Hecate is the goddess of crossroads, symbolized by the number three and it is at this point of the play that Lear finds himself at his own crossroads; a choice between three daughters and how to divide the kingdom among them. Aronso states that Shakespeare incorporated Hecate, “as a metaphor of evil closely associated with the tragic universe he created in these plays” (Aronso pg 230). Thus, Lear’s initial invocation of Hecate represents a break from the stable world he had known, to one of madness and bloodshed. By scorning Cordelia in this manner, he opens himself, and his kingdom, to the evil influence of the Hecate archetype, which physically manifests itself in his daughters Regan and Goneril. 

Lear’s daughters are the ultimate emanations of Hecate. Both are driven by their lust for power and cause much of the mass bloodshed in the play. In myth, Hecate is symbolized by a serpent, and often depicted as part snake in artist renderings. At one point in the work, Albany refers to Goneril as a “gilded serpent,” and Lear states In Act 2, Scene 4 that she "struck me with her tongue, / Most serpent-like, upon the very heart," further fortifying the idea of these daughters as Hecate figures. Their deaths, and Cordelia’s, are also symbolic of Goneril and Regan’s Hecate-esque status. As previously stated, Hecate is often associated with poison, and is frequently depicted holding a dagger and rope in artists’ representations (Aronso pg 255). Goneril kills Regan with poison, and subsequently commits suicide with a knife. “What means this bloody knife?...Your lady, sir, your lady! And her sister/By her is poisoned; she confesses it” (Act 5 Scene 3 Lines 223-228).  Shakespeare utilized this association in Hamlet in the scene where Lucianus pours poison in the King’s ear. “Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected/ With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected” (Act 3 Scene 2). In King Lear the poison that kills Regan is an indication of her status as a Hecate archetype, and the knife Goneril uses to commit suicide is indicative of the dagger Hecate is often associated with. Cordelia is hung on the orders of her sister, alluding to the final symbol of Hecate, the rope. Their deaths represents the infecting aspect of greed and lust for power, and its ability to destroy innocence. Aronson forties this realization when he states, “...these women-figures [Regan and Goneril] are themselves emanations of Hecate, over life-size in their greed for power, or their corruption through lust, or both”. The deaths of Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia in a manner symbolic of the Hecate archetype function as a representation of the corruption that has permeated Lear’s kingdom, and his mind. 

Lear is psychologically connected with his kingdom, and when it begins to disintegrate, so does his mental state. The tempest that swirls throughout the pages of the play is both a literal storm as well as a psychic one. Thus, the characters in Lear can be interpreted as representing different aspects of Lear’s psyche. Goneril and Regan are, in jungian terms, his Anima. The Anima is described as being a “personification of all feminine psychological tendencies in a man’s psyche”(Thury 479). The daughters’ status as Hecate figures represent Lear’s mental corruption and greed for flattery that initially catalyzed the collapse of his kingdom, “Nothing could have subdued nature to such a lowness but his unkind daughters,” Lear states (Act 3, Scene 4, line 65). In this instance, the nature Lear is referring to is both the literal world around him as well as his own psychological nature. The conflict between Anima and self is manifested in the action of the play and helps one to better understand the violent and death-ridden conclusion of Shakespeare’s work.

Aronso claims that at the heart of the Hecate myth lies a clash between patriarchal and matriarchal systems of culture, a clash that is echoed in the pages of King Lear. “The hero, be he son, husband or father, is, in terms of the archetypal symbol (Hecate) always in danger of losing his masculine independence, of being first blinded and then swallowed by the maternal unconscious,” he writes (Aronso pg 250). In Lear, this metaphorical blindness is made literal when Cornwall and Regan put out the eyes of Gloucester. His blinding symbolizes his inability to recognize his son Edmund as a corrupt traitor and his son Edgar as morally correct. The Hecate-figure Regan elucidates this for the reader when she says to Gloucester, “Thou call’st on him [Edmund] that hates thee. It was he/That made the overture of thy treasons to us” (Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 89-90). Gloucester’s physical blindness is indicative of Lear’s psychological one. He is initially “blinded” by the maternal unconscious, his Hecate-esque daughters. They falsely flatter him in order to inherit the kingdom whilst Cordelia tells him the truth and is subsequently shunned and cursed. “Whenever Hecate appears in the world of Shakespeare tragedies, she forms part of a prayer or invocation addressed to the powers of darkness to bring about the death of someone whose destruction would be the sacrifice required to ensure the victory of evil over good,” writes Aronson (Aronson pg 250). Lear’s initial curse on Cordelia comes into fruition in the final act of the play. She is hung, fulfilling the sacrifice Aronson was alluding to. Yet even with this tragedy, Lear finds redemption at the conclusion of Shakespeare’s work. He is reconciled with Cordelia, however briefly, and the violent deaths of Regan, Goneril, and Edmund, characters who caused much of the blood shed and tragedy in the play, symbolize a cleansing of his psyche. In other words, the deaths of the Hecate figures are indicative of Lear’s rejection of the maternal unconscious. Man’s consciousness has won over the unconscious. 

By interpreting King Lear through the archetype Hecate, one can identify the connection to mythos that Shakespeare drew upon and better understand the underlying complexities of the play. King Lear is not merely an exploration of a physical world, but a psychological one as well. The presence of Hecate in Lear demonstrates a corrosion of the kingdom, and concurrently, of the mind. Though the Hecate figures are finally defeated at the conclusion of the play, symbolizing the triumph of the conscious over the unconscious, it has come too late for Lear. He dies, leaving Edgar to utter the final warning to the audience. “The weight of this sad time we must obey/ Speak what we feel not what we ought to say./ The oldest hath borne most; we that are young/ Shall never see so much nor live so long” (Act 5, Scene 3, Lines 323-326).

Works Cited

Aronson, Alex. Psyche and Symbol in Shakespeare . Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1972. Print.

Shakespeare, William, and Alan Durband. King Lear. Woodbury, NY: Barron's, 1986. Print.

Slayford-Wei, Lian. "The Greek Goddess Hecate: Then and Now." Helium. Helium, 19 May 2009. Web. 5 Apr. 2013.

Thury, Eva M. and Margaret K. Devinney. Introduction to Mythology: Contemporary Approaches to Classical and World Myths. New York: Oxford University Press. 2009

At a Crossroad

In a feeble attempt to not procrastinate on my final project for this class, I was in the library this past Sunday researching microcosms and macrocosms when I came across a book about psychological symbols and their manifestations in Shakespeare's work. Among the symbols discussed was the goddess Hecate, a greek goddess (according to some sources) who was initially portrayed as goddess of nature, neither good nor evil. In later years she became associated with witchcraft, blood, and violence.   Some sources say she is the mother of Scylla and one of the queens of the underworld. She is also called the goddess of crossroads, often symbolized by the number three. Hecate appears (or is mentioned) several times in Shakespeare's plays, most notably in King Lear, Hamlet, and Macbeth. It was her influence on King Lear that intrigued me most, for when I perused this play I found Hecate symbolism and Hecate figures permeating through its pages. So, my attempt to not procrastinate turned into a last minute change of topic for my final project (heads up Professor, you will not be hearing a scintillating, mind-blowing analysis of microcosms and macrocosms in Shakespeare's work anymore). Instead, I will be analyzing King Lear through the eyes of Hecate, and how King Lear's curse on Cordelia in which he invokes the goddess' name skews the path of the play and sends it into its conclusion of mass bloodshed and death.

Frederick Turner and The Reason of the Sun

I have been feeling ill for the last couple of days so my class attendance has been abysmal. In an effort to redeem myself in the eyes of Professor Sexson and the class I will attempt to get a decent blog entry in this week.

I have just left the auditorium where myself and others listened to Frederick Turner read a portion of The Undiscovered Country as well as some other poems. First off, I would like to say that if Mr. Turner ever decided to enter the business of reading books for audio tapes, I would probably buy whatever literature he was recording, even if it was the latest Dan Brown novel, because that's how pleasant it is to listen to him read out loud. I wish I had recorded his rendition of the Wordsworth poem for repeated listening, for it was simply a wonderful auditory pleasure to hear it in such a fashion.

Secondly, I was unable to write down many of the lines that caught my attention, but I managed to scribble down a few that particularly drew my favor. The first was, "begins to lose the reason of the sun." Now I cannot tell you where at in The Undiscovered Country this line appears or whom or what it pertains to, all I know is that it struck me enough to jot it down in relatively ineligible handwriting. Historically, the sun has stood as a symbol of enlightenment, so "losing the reason of the sun" is an altogether striking statement, and it immediately brought King Lear to mind. Lear's descent into madness is surrounded by a literal swirling tempest, which also serves as a metaphor for both the state of his mind as well as his court. This storm seems to be completely opposite of the clear logos that the sun symbolizes, and "losing the reason of the sun" is an utterly accurate assessment of Lear's mental state.

"His book on time has turned into one odd mess," was the second Turner quotation I had written. Now, mind you these may not be completely accurate transcriptions of his poem, but I tried my best to keep up with his reading. This was another quote that I thought related to Lear. The Fool makes a point of saying to Lear that he has grown old, but not wise. Lear's book on time turned disastrous for him near the end. And how could one not term the conclusion of King Lear as "one odd mess"? Perhaps I just have Lear on the brain, but I would love to ask Turner if The Undiscovered Country could serve as a description, or metaphor, for Lear's own state of mind.

A Sonnet to My Bookcase

Professor Sexson has told us to write a sonnet to a significant other, so naturally, I wrote one to my bookcase, about my bookcase.

A Sonnet to My Bookcase
When melted hearts spill down collapsing walls,
A reservoir's waiting to pool the drip.
It gathers tears of bygone, former falls
And currents them on a diversion trip.
Soft streaming eyes open to blurry lines
That streak together into tides of black.
These riverings aid in deluging times
The age-old vessel heartbreak whales attack.
For waves of words harbor stories of old
And bays of books are ceaselessly waiting.
Oceans of notions seek to unfold
To the seafarer ready for sailing.
Along the coast of my bookcase resides
A sea of stories waiting for reprise.

My Hamletian Tendencies

A professor once told me that Hamlet was the Shakespearean equivalent of a lazy English Literature grad student. This struck me as quite true and also simultaneously managed to frighten me considerably because I've noticed some rather Hamletian tendencies in my personality. Please do not mistake this comparison as hubris, for when I say I have Hamletian tendencies, I am not referring to the abilities to produce sweepingly insightful monologues and run verbal circles of wit around my peers (although I have been known to drop a witticism or two in my time). I am referring to Hamlet's tendency to remain fundamentally inactive through most of the play. Hamlet is the greatest procrastinator of all time, and as one who claims to have mastered the art, I can only look upon him in appreciation an awe for his ability to do nothing until the last possible moment.

On another Hamletian note, Professor Sexson has given us an assignment to make others' lives as entertaining as possible by being as Hamlet-like as possible. I'm afraid that I've been carrying out this assignment far too successfully for many years now, and that my goal should be to make my life less entertaining for others. This was exemplified for me during the past week when I was making a mad dash to the McDonald's drive through at 10:25 in the morning. Now, any true McDonald's customer knows that the restaurant stops selling their signature breakfast foods at 10:30 AM, so even though my car was running on empty, I had to eek out every last bit of fuel to obtain my primary goal of a Sausage Mcmuffin meal. Right as I pull up to voice my order, my car shutters to a halt and refuses to start. With a line of seven cars behind me, I had to get out of my vehicle and kindly ask the two gentleman behind me to push my car out of the McDonald's drive thru, subsequently depriving myself and all seven cars behind me of McDonald's breakfast. Refusing to let this set back keep me from McDonald's food all together, I mustered up my courage, walked inside the restaurant, placed my order "for here", and waited for a friend to bring a tank of gas to rescue my poor abused car from the clutches of the McDonald's parking lot. I've included a picture of the incident below as proof this story took place. Anyways, this incident is not an isolated one. Such humorous occurrences seem to take place in my life rather frequently, and as one who enjoys entertaining others, I'm not shy about sharing them. Yes, I've realized we have ventured away from discussing comedy in this class, but I think we can all agree that the death of my vehicle in the Mcdonald's drive thru is a pretty tragic Hamletian incident.

Benjamin Franklin

Alright Professor Sexson, you demanded proof and here it is. A 10 year old, grey-haired Nicole starring as Benjamin Franklin in Valley View Elementary School's colonial play.

The Masque of the Theatre

If I remember correctly, I believe it was Jill who was interested in exploring masks and their Shakespearean utilization. Upon reading her blog, I came across a quote that struck quite the chord;

"Theater is more than than the mask, it is the expression of the space where the body ends and the mask begins." I took this to mean that theatre is not wholly realistic, nor a costume-ish representation of the real, but an adjoining of the two. This extremely provocative and interesting line brought to mind theatre's connection to the microcosm and macrocosm. The theme that has reverberated throughout the short duration of this Shakespeare class is that life imitates art and art imitates life, the microcosm attempts to reflect the macrocosm, and good theatre is a microcosmic sampling of the macrocosmic whole.  These contemplations subsequently reminded me of a short story that utilizes microcosms, macrocosms, masks, and mimicry; an Edgar Allan Poe tale entitled The Mask of the Red Death.

I've included the full text below in a link, but for those unfamiliar, The Masque of the Red Death features a prince who shares the same name of Shakespeare's title character in The Tempest, Prince Prospero. Everyone around Prospero is dropping dead of a plague known as the Red Death, so he decides to gather up all of his friends, barricade them in his palace, hole up till the plague is over, and let all the peasants die off. Around 600 aristocrats hang out and party in Prospero's palace for a while, until Prospero decides to spice up the party theme and throw a Masquerade ball. This masquerade features seven meaningfully decorated rooms, an ebony clock, and a mysterious masked party guest whose appearance is described as such: "...tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat." I won't reveal the identity of the masked figure for those unknowing readers (although this description, coupled with the title of the short story, may have made it obvious to some).

I read Poe's story in terms of the macro and micro. Prospero, in barricading himself and his friends inside the palace, attempts to shield the microcosm from the macrocosm. The macrocosm, in the form of the masked figure, invades the microcosm, and destroys it. At the conclusion, Prospero's microcosm reflects the macrocosm of the outside world; his guests and him have all died from the Red Death. The masks of the theatre do not protect us from the macrocosm. Instead, they allow it to pass among us unnoticed until its presence becomes too overwhelmingly truthful to ignore. 

Full Text of Poe's The Masque of the Red Death

The Despairing Romantic

In an urge to deepen my Shakespearean understanding (an understanding which resides mostly on faint and vague-ish memories of reading Hamlet and Julius Caesar), I ventured to a place that despises me for my inability to return a book on time as well as my frequent breaking of the no food or drink rule; the Montana State Library.  Within its literary criticism section, I happened across a book that compiled a variety of critical writings on Shakespeare's work by the playwright Bernard Shaw entitled Shaw on Shakespeare. Expecting another journey along the path of Shakespeare's genius to the final destination of awe and fascination many critics of the Bard lead readers along, I was surprised to find that Shaw was highly critical of Shakespeare, elucidated in the prologue with quotes such as ; "We are idolaters of Shakespeare, born and bred. Our sin is not indifference, but superstition-which is another kind of ignorance," and, "I could write a better play than As You Like It...I actually have written much better ones, and in fact, never wrote anything and never intend to write anything, half so bad in matter". The change in critical tone was refreshing; my fellow lit students and I have been raised upon the bread and butter of Shakespeare. We all gather around his pedestal of literary genius and marvel at its grandiosity and seemingly unparalleled brilliance, so it is rather pleasing to see someone attempt to, if not kick this pedestal over, shake it a bit. 

Of course I'm still deeply enamored of Shakespeare's genius, but Shaw's criticisms resonated, particularly his views of romanticism. Shaw had Shakespeare in mind when he wrote, "the lot of the man who sees life truly and thinks about it romantically is despair." Romance lies at the epicenter of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and despair seems to gravitate around it, hovering at its edges whilst conjoining itself with a large dose of comedy to take the edge off. Helena is the epitome of romantic despair, illustrated in her interactions with Demetrius when she begs to him;

"I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,

The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, 

Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,"

She understands this love is not reciprocated, and, without the help of a little misplaced magic, never will be, but this despair does not intercede with her passions. The despairing romantic is born when his love is spurned or cannot be returned, and yet, he is unable to relinquish his love, catalyzing feelings of despondency and anguish. Another example of a despairing lover is the rebuffed Ophelia;

Hamlet: I did love you once.

Ophelia: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Hamlet: You should not have believ'd me, for virtue cannot so

inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I lov'd you not.

Ophelia: I was the more deceived.

Hamlet: Get thee to a nunn'ry, why woulds't thou be a breeder of

Romantic despair, is of course, a romantic notion, and reveals a significant aspect of Shakespeare's influence. He himself seems to be a despairing romantic (if one needs an example of this, one simply has to investigate Shakespeare's sonnets, particularly sonnet 138).  He sees life truly, writes about it romantically, and yet his lot, as Shaw would say, is the lot of despair.

SONNET 138

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

Claiming the Void

I was extremely interested in Turner's detailed explorations into the men of the School of Night, particularly in Marlowe's place and influence among them. It seems as if Marlowe's work perfectly encapsulated the spirit of these men, men who strove to surpass the limiting shackles of religion and politics that permeated their spheres of influence. His character, Faustus, is one whose vice was his need to know all, his need to rise above the extent of human knowledge and learn things man had never conceived of. This trait seemed to be shared by the School of Night, for it's members all appear to have pushed the boundaries of knowledge in their time as far as they could. It was Faustus' drive to know all that led to his downfall, and, it seems, this trait also led many member of the School of Night to the tower or scaffold. 


There is a passage in Dr. Faustus that captures this drive perfectly;

Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain’d that end? 

Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 

Whereby whole cities have escap’d the plague, 

And thousand desperate maladies been cur’d? 

Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.

Faustus is an accomplished man in any sense of the word before his pact with Mephistopheles is made, yet he is still confined by his humanity, he is "still Faustus, and a man," and longs to be more. He yearns for a new world from the perceived nothingness ( or insignificance) of what is known, and this urge is an echoing of what the members of the School of Night felt. As Turner words it, far better then I ever could, their own Faustinian urge was, "to claim from the wilderness of the void, "clean from sight of land," a new world." It is in this new world that Shakespeare stakes his claim, and through his art, managed to push aside his own boundaries of humanity and claimed, from the wilderness of the void, eternity. 

Science Fiction and Shakespeare

It has been such a very long time since I dusted the proverbial gathering of dirt and grime off my blogging abilities, so this first entry will serve as more of a blogging warm up than a true and actual attempt to analyze and glean information about Shakespeare's works. Nevertheless, through the rust that seems to have corroded my brain over Christmas break, I managed to make some general connections with Hughes introductory essay that strike me as important and consequential.

Hughes pointed out something that I think myself, and many students across the nation who read Shakespeare (forced or otherwise) forget, which is that Shakespeare's plays were designed for entertainment. His livelihood and well being depended on the success of these works and their abilities to draw in crowds, crowds which, as Hughes describes, were a varied collection of the highest educated noblemen in the country and the ignorant, illiterate common men. With such a multifaceted audience to cater to, his success seems all the more astonishing and commendable, and the ways in which he reached this widespread appeal are to be lauded.

Hughes described Shakespeare's process of "finding the common language of the highest and lowest,"going into detail about Shakespeare's ability to bridge the difference between the "high" language and "low language" of the time. It is this ability that interests me most, for it is a talent that seems to have seeped out of modern "highbrow" literature if not all together, than to a drastic amount. I cannot give you statistics or reference actual essays of established literature academics that would agree with me, but what my general sense is on the modern state of fiction literature as a whole, is that there is a startling divide present between the works intended to entertain and works intended to be read as serious and important novels. For example, a book such as Fifty Shades of Gray, whilst entertaining, does not require the same level of concentration and attentiveness when reading that a Cormac Mccarthy novel demands. It is this disparity between mass entertainment novels and critically acclaimed novels that interests me, for while Shakespeare appealed to the masses and the higher educated with seeming ease, I've found only one genre of modern literature that consistently caters to both the entertainment enthusiast in me while simultaneously satisfying the hypercritical Lit major as well.

It may be considered a travesty by many academics to compare Shakespeare with science fiction writers but that is what I am going to do for the next paragraph or so, and while I wouldn't consider myself widely read in the genre, it is one I will say, as a reader with a nerdy streak, I dabble in quite frequently. What keeps me returning to science fiction is the fascinating interplay between technology, writing technique, and plot. These three threads of science fiction literature get interwoven into fascinating patterns of writing, and at the very best of the genre, produce highly relevant and entertaining works. A good science fiction writer utilizes concepts that are frequently permeated in advanced technology and he or she must explain them in a way that both satisfies the educated yet entertains the masses that read these books for their entertainment and shock value. It is here that I find the similarities between Shakespeare and science fiction writers to lie. Shakespeare had the ability to use language in a way that both satisfied the aristocracy and the common folk, and the best of the science fiction writers wield this power in their hands as well. Science fiction writers create entirely new fantastical concepts that they must somehow connect to the relevant world, just as Shakespeare created new ways of writing English that he had to somehow make relevant to his audience in a way that they would understand.