In my folklore class, we started studying a rather lost Irish tradition known as mumming. It's kind of like caroling in that around Christmastime a group of people go around to different houses but instead of singing, they perform a short play. Today, an actress named Jennifer Kidd came and we worked on acting out or own sort of mumming, under her guidance. In my creative arts class, an actor named Dale Rapley came and we discussed the Tempest and how he as an actor learned to understand and really take in Shakespeare. We basically dissected Prospero's "our revels now are ended" monologue and discussed his character (Rapley plays Prospero in his production.)
I don't know, there's just something about Shakespeare that enraptures my mind. I don't know how to explain it, but whenever I study Shakespeare I just go into a sort of literary high. I love it. I think his words are so brilliant and moving -- they're beautiful. And all I want to do is read more and analyze more and envelope myself with sonnets and iambic pentameter. The first Shakespeare play I was ever introduced to, officially, was A Midsummer Nights' Dream in elementary school. We acted it out when I was in fifth grade (obviously a condensed, translated version). Even then, I found it so captivating.
The first time I remember Shakespeare really getting to me, though, was when we studied Romeo and Juliet in ninth grade. We read portions of it aloud everyday and that month was probably my favorite of the whole year. Most people thought it was boring, but I soaked in every word. Being fourteen, it was the perfectly tragic love story. Then, I thought I loved it because I was a teenager and in love with love. I read all of the cheesy teenage romance books like they were food that I needed everyday.
But then I began studying more plays, and I loved those just as much. Plays that aren't necessarily love stories. Hamlet, MacBeth, Much Ado, Othello... I didn't love Romeo and Juliet just because it is the perfectly tragic love story. I just love Shakespeare. And studying the Tempest today, if only for fifty minutes, reminded me.
"The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep..."
It's haunting. And sad.
And beautiful.
This is a picture I found on a blog:
Sorry if this post is boring. Haha I forget that not everyone is enamored with literature as I am. I am an English major for a reason...
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