Quote:
Originally Posted by ahi
I remember the astonishment I felt when I first read Shakespeare. I expected to receive a powerful esthetic pleasure, but having read, one after the other, works regarded as his best: "King Lear," "Romeo and Juliet," "Hamlet" and "Macbeth," not only did I feel no delight, but I felt an irresistible repulsion and tedium, and doubted as to whether I was senseless in feeling works regarded as the summit of perfection by the whole of the civilized world to be trivial and positively bad, or whether the significance which this civilized world attributes to the works of Shakespeare was itself senseless. My consternation was increased by the fact that I always keenly felt the beauties[5] of poetry in every form; then why should artistic works recognized by the whole world as those of a genius,—the works of Shakespeare,—not only fail to please me, but be disagreeable to me? For a long time I could not believe in myself, and during fifty years, in order to test myself, I several times recommenced reading Shakespeare in every possible form, in Russian, in English, in German and in Schlegel's translation, as I was advised. Several times I read the dramas and the comedies and historical plays, and I invariably underwent the same feelings: repulsion, weariness, and bewilderment. At the present time, before writing this preface, being desirous once more to test myself, I have, as an old man of seventy-five, again read the whole of Shakespeare, including the historical plays, the "Henrys," "Troilus and Cressida," the "Tempest," "Cymbeline," and I have felt, with even greater force, the same feelings,—this time, however, not of bewilderment, but of firm, indubitable conviction that the unquestionable glory of a great genius which Shakespeare enjoys, and which compels writers of our time to imitate him and readers and spectators to[6] discover in him non-existent merits,—thereby distorting their esthetic and ethical understanding,—is a great evil, as is every untruth.
--- Leo Tolstoy, Tolstoy on Shakespeare
P.s.: 'Tis be some fine pot-stirring, say I! |
I don't care to stir pots.
And I don't think there's anything wrong with not liking or appreciating Shakespeare, Plato, Tolkien, or Dr. Suess. I also don't think you can fairly compare one with the other any more than you can compare "The Sound of Music" with "Ben Hur," or a "Monet" with a "van Gogh." There's no accounting for an individual's tastes and preferences, and there's no right or wrong in an individual's opinions.
On first read of the above quote from Tolstoy on Shakespeare:
Sounds like Tolstoy was of the understanding that Shakespeare was by reputation, some god of the written word. And after reading many of his works he was terribly disappointed that his experience with his writings was lacking in the appreciation and awe he expected to experience from it.
Later in life, after giving Shakespeare's genious another chance to impress him the way it apparently impressed so many others in the world, he still found Shakespeare's work (to paraphrase) useless trash, in his opinion.
And that's okay. No one is
required to
enjoy Shakespeare. But it seems Tolstoy spent an extraordinary amount of time reading, and then re-reading in 5 or 6 different languages much of Shakespeare's works in order to "get something out of it" and still "came up empty."
I wonder many things about Tolstoy's seeming obsession with Shakespeare in the above quote:
Did he doubt his own ability to understand and appreciate Shakespeare's work that he felt the need to "read him" so extensively, over such a long period of time, in so many forms and languages in order to "get it" as he understood the rest of the world had? . . .
Did he really think that after reading his works in 3 or 4 languages and "not getting it," that it was worth continuing to try to "get it" in still another language or two? . . .
(too much time on your hands, Tolstoy?)
Did he spend so much time on Shakespeare's works to prove to himself and others that Shakespeare was a "false literary god" as the rest of the world seemed to think he was? . . .
Or was Tolstoy simply envious of the extraordinary acclaim Shakespeare's works had received?
(Possibly a 19th century troll; possibly an ingenious literary critic.) In any case he sounds a bit bitter about his final opinions on Shakespeare and the pedestal the world had placed him on. Get over it Tolstoy, and move on.
Who cares? He's entitled to think Shakespeare's work is useless and overrated, just as other's are entitled to think he's genious.
I like Tolstoy's work but can't stand Dr. Suess. I'm not comparing the two with each other. It just didn't take me reading Dr. Suess' work several times before deciding I had no use for it. And after finding no use for it, I didn't feel compelled to dwell on it's uselessness and try to stir the pot with those who feel the work is wonderful.
I'm sure none of the above had much to do with the OP, so sorry for the
response to what might also have been
I just say to each his own.
But that's just me.
Did I just stir a pot?
I kept getting lost there (due to pausing to work) . . . I have no idea what I just said. I apologize for rambling.