Thoughts on Hamlet

Prostitution is everywhere in Hamlet, and I feel that it probably has a higher purpose than to simply illustrate the dirty minds of men. In fact, it sometimes seems as if Hamlet himself is a prostitute. Hamlet comments in his final soliloquy of Act II that Hamlet must, "like a whore, unpack [his] heart with words." I thought of his comment as likening himself to a prostitute in that he must not get emotionally attached to anyone or anything on his quest. Prostitutes cannot allow themselves to get attached to any of their "clients," and must fill their hearts with a hardness that leaves them almost incapable to love in order to achieve their goals. Similarly, Hamlet must harden his heart on his quest for his father's revenge. That is, if his father even needs revenge. He must fill his heart with words instead of of love or even soul, and his attempts to fill himself with words explain his conversation earlier in the scene with Polonius.

Speaking of Polonius, he is a kind of prostitute in one sense. He doesn't seem to have a strong sense of loyalty, rather changing sides whenever it benefits him most. Hamlet even alludes that he is like a dog, but a dead dog at that one. Hamlet hints that Polonius doesn't even have enough loyalty that he can be classified as a dog, and will eventually die, and maggots will come out of Polonius' dead, decaying, corrupted body. What a beautiful image. Polonius is also related to prostitution in a different way. He is a "fishmonger," someone trying to sell his own daughter in order to gain the favor of the king. Salesmen always try to boost up the image of the product they are trying to sell, usually lying in the process. However, Polonius is almost worse than the normal salesman; he is not only trying to sell a person, but trying to trick not only Hamlet but also Ophelia and, in some ways, even Claudius.

On an unrelated tangent, I wanted to discuss my views of Hamlet's relationship with the other characters. Now that we've watched the Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet, I can't imagine Hamlet and Ophelia's relationship as anything more innocent. If Hamlet is as old as he seems, and as passionate and emotional as Hamlet is in his soliloquies, I can't help but imagine the only love Hamlet will have as fiery and completely passionate. He doesn't strike me as the type to slowly approach Ophelia to wait for her hand in marriage; rather, in his irrationality, he probably did open her chaste treasure.

Although I can understand Hamlet's feelings of betrayal towards his mother, I feel like he often takes his father's side a bit too much. If his mother had married anyone but his uncle, I wonder, would he be as upset and appalled? I really wonder what Hamlet's relationship with Claudius was before King Hamlet died/was murdered. It might help explain Hamlet's confusing attitude.

Keeping up Appearances

"'Seems,' madam? Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.'"
"Do you believe his 'tenders,' as you call them?"
"Ay, 'fashion,' you may call it."


When I imagine Hamlet in real life--because I usually visualize what I'm reading in my head--I see a lot of people faking things. It seems to me that pretty much everything has a double meaning, which, yes, makes things a bit more interesting, but also makes it much more complicated for my simple brain to understand. Sure, I love that most of Shakespeare's words could be interpreted in two or three or even four different ways, but I don't like that Hamlet could be acting crazily either because he is madly in love with Ophelia and needs her love, or because he just saw his father's ghost, or because he's still mourning for his father's death. Or all three.
Maybe I actually love the complicated-ness.
But it does make my head hurt, regardless. It's kind of like deciphering my grandmother's words of wisdom: whenever she feels the need to impart some of her wise advice to me, she speaks in Korean proverbs only.

What struck me so much about all of these double meanings is the sense of a type of betrayal. It seems ironic in the sense that I've always found lying and having different facades to be a type of betrayal, not only to oneself, but to the people around the dishonest person. And although the characters all speak of some kind of duty to one person or another, all have different faces they do not wish to reveal. Pretty much all the characters are lying. Tsk, tsk. Undutiful.

The women in the play strike me the most as deceitful backstabbers. Gertrude, for her to have married Claudius so quickly after her late husband's death, must have had a relationship going on with her brother-in-law before King Hamlet's death. Although her betrayal may have been more understandable if she had been mistreated as Queen Hamlet, but as Hamlet describes, his father would have blocked the wind so that it wouldn't hit her face too harshly. That's definitely a deep love. It is obvious from Hamlet's disgust and utter flabbergastedness that he too cannot understand his mother. Though I'm not sure whether or not he knew about the affair (if there was one in the first place), but I think that if he had, he would have been a bit less surprised and angry at his mother's actions. Ophelia too surprises me. Although she doesn't seem as two-faced as Gertrude, her almost-hidden relationship with Hamlet seems quite naughty for a woman in her days.
The line "Frailty, thy name is woman," seems to be Shakespeare's way of mocking society, as the women in this play are not exactly "frail"; they both have their secrets and deceitful lies.


I have a feeling that Hamlet will be betrayed by somebody, though I have absolutely no evidence for that statement; it's just a gut feeling. With all of these double appearances and lies circling the country of Denmark, something truly is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Hamlet, Hunger Games, (un)Happiness.

I was completely blown away by Hamlet yesterday in class. Who would have thought that "suit" would have so many deeper meanings?

I must admit that I went into Hamlet prejudiced against Shakespeare's works. I'd always viewed his writing as convoluted, wordy, pretentious, and, most of all, boring. But I am proud to say that yesterday's discussion in class completely overturned my previous opinion of Shakespeare. Now, on to analysis.

Hamlet's character is extremely interesting, as he obviously has very strong morals and opinions, especially about his mother's life. His sarcasm seems appropriate for the situation, yet at times, the drama of the situation seems almost comedic to me. Strange, I know, but perhaps it is because I could not ever imagine my mother marrying my father's brother, my uncle. I'm rather excited to see how Hamlet's character will be developed, and how he will respond to that famous quote, "To be or not to be. That is the question."

It was interesting to observe the various cultural and societal aspects of Shakespeare's writing. What was most interesting to me was Claudius' comment of "'Tis unmanly grief'" to Hamlet's explanation of his true grief (Act I Scene II, line 94). I have found that in most cultures, a man's tears are considered a huge weakness, a sign of cowardice and almost femininity. However, Hamlet seems almost proud of his tears, considering them a show of his true inner self, of his true grieving and true emotions. I applauded him for realizing that his grief and sadness were not signs of his weakness as a man, but he has yet to show his true inner strength. If Hamlet can remain strong even when his heart has been wrenched and twisted, I can only imagine his strength when he stands up to Claudius. I can't wait.

I am currently reading the Hunger Games series, and I found a certain parallel in the characters of Katniss and Hamlet. I must admit, they really are not that similar. Hamlet is a prince, while Katniss is almost the exact opposite, a poor girl who must feed her entire family single handedly. However, both have a certain specific inner strength and anger at society and the world that make them somewhat similar. They both have a fight ahead of them--Katniss has the Hunger Games, and Hamlet most probably has a fight against Claudius (either for the throne or for power)--that allow them to keep on, to prevail and persist. But what makes the two similar in my mind is their abandonment of happiness. It seems to me as if the two have, in a way, accepted the unhappiness of their lives and are willing to take it on, but not necessarily to gain happiness later in their lives. I'm a pessimist, so obviously, I assume that both will ultimately not find the happiness of fairytale endings but will end up failing in a way. But then, life's unpredictable.

New Year's Ponderings.

It's a new beginning. A new start. A new year.
Fresh. New. Infantile. Eager. Anticipating. Timidity.

We've finally started a new year, and the only thing we've really done in class so far is discuss the past--the final exam, that is--and the future. I guess it is up to me to discuss the present.

I'll start by making a confession. I'm surprised.
Pleasantly surprised, that is. I went into AP Lit thinking it would be like my previous Language Arts classes, save AP Lang: confining, way too focused on grammar, and way way too much emphasis on analysis of literature...even the thought repulsed me. But as we began our class discussion of All the King's Men, I was hooked. I never knew writing could be that beautiful. That a few words on a white page could give so much more meaning to life.
Now, I'm proud to say I'm hooked on literature.

As I was frantically attempting to finish my college application essays over winter break--I'm still not done--I was often frustrated by my writing, as I often am during timed writings. Sometimes I can't find the right words, sometimes it's that my sentences sound awkward. I've edited and rewritten, used my backspace button until it it is much easier to press than the other keys on my keyboard, and yet my writing never seems to be perfect. As I reread some of my favorite works: Invisible Man, My Sister's Keeper, and A Tale of Two Cities, over the break, I began envying the writers' abilities. How each one could--in such differing styles--create plots so interesting, characters so alive, and sentences so riveting?

I guess my goal for the new semester is not only to better my skills as a writer, but to take more pride in my writing, to love what I have done rather than hate what I haven't. For it seems that all good writers seem to love their style of writing, seem to love their uniqueness. Perhaps what I view as my weaknesses as a writer could someday turn into my best strengths.

I've read many books to which I was indifferent of the plot, but fell in love with the writing. I want my writing to be like that. Even if I am writing about cultivating goats, I want readers to be able to completely be enamored by my writing.

I read Ishmael once again over the winter break, and I was completely immersed in the novel once again. Not only is the subject interesting--a man talking to a gorilla about the end of the world--but the writing is so beautifully engaging yet concise and clear.

My goal this school year, and the school years to come, is to become a better writer. A stronger writer. A confident writer. I want my writing to convey my ideas, but do much more. I want to be able to change others' lives the way Rowling's writing pushed me to value friendship and loyalty, the way Kingsolver influenced me to weight the pros and cons before acting.

A new year and a new hope.