The literature-lover in me is itching to get into Catch-22, arguably one of the best war novels of the twentieth century. I read the introduction to the novel yesterday, and I was struck by the absurdity of the logic of the Catch-22 itself. A Catch-22 is a situation in which a man is considered insane if he willingly puts himself in danger, but is considered sane if he takes himself out of danger. The catch is that if he is considered sane, he is ineligible to be relieved from service. I've always loved paradoxes, and I'm sure that I'll love this one as well. Scanning the first few pages of the war novel, I was intrigued when Yossarian says that he fell in love with the chaplain. A chaplain is defined as a member of the clergy attached to a private chapel, institution, ship, or a branch of the armed forces. The chaplain seems to be a male figure...what exactly is going on?
I already love the style of the novel. Heller writes in a style that is very active and sarcastic, and I imagine his character Yossarian, who is narrating the novel, to be the same way. I can understand why Yossarian would be slightly crabby and sarcastic, as he is fighting a war he doesn't want to fight, and in order to avoid his predestined fate, must remain cramped up in a hospital room feigning sick.
I found it interesting that Yossarian had to pretend to be sick in order to evade the war. Though I understand that the premise of the Catch-22 is that Yossarian has no choice but to remain in the hospital, I feel like the theme of seems vs. is will be prevalent throughout the novel. Yossarian obviously has a fun-loving and interesting personality, and I am excited to see how he handles the monotony of the hospital and faking his illness and whether he will even be able to stay in the hospital for the duration of the war.
One major idea that I came across even in reading the first few pages was whether or not Yossarian is a coward. At this point in the novel, I feel like he is a bit of a coward. True, I don't know his entire story, of why he even needs to get away from the war in the first place. But I believe, as a man, he should live up to his own masculinity and stop the Catch-22 madness. I mean, isn't that what all male heroes do in war novels? Fight to the death against the enemy, win, and go back home to his true love? Yet, I'm getting a good feeling about the anti-fairy tale this novel has taken on.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Little Love Songs: Gaming Version (In Spenser Terms)
I think I'm in love. With sonnets, that is. Oh, the irony. And while I love the beautiful imagery and double-meaning words the poet weaves into each little song, I cannot seem to understand why poets--Spenser specifically--would want to describe his woman as "the hunt," "the game," or any other animal-like name. I understand that love is a game. And the poet feels like a hunter. And the lady runs away, like a deer. Or flies away like a bird. I really get it, I do. But does courtship always have to be a hunt? A chase? One person pursuing and the other fleeing? I know this was the 15th and 16th century, when men called on beautiful women, but for some reason, it just doesn't feel right hearing woman continuously being called--to be frank--an animal.
An animal is defined as a multicellular organism part of the kingdom Animalia, a person who behaves in a bestial or brutish manner, a person considered with respect to the physical nature, a person having a specified aptitude or set of interests, or relating to human instinct. I don't know...most 16th century women just don't seem very "brutish" to me...
Now to Spenser. I found it interesting that his Sonnet 67, like that of Wyatt, described "the hunt" of the fair lady. He describes himself as a "huntsman after a weary chase," and I couldn't help but wonder, 'Why chase, then?' I have to applaud Spenser for his (assumed figurative) long and weary chase, even though he could have never imagined that the "gentle deer" would behold him with a "milder look" and let herself go with him.
But what is Spenser trying to comment about women? Even though he describes woman as a deer, the doe being associated with woodland goddesses, gentle, caring, and intelligent, is Spenser trying to say that even if a woman has these wonderful qualities, at the end of the day, she is still an animal? If that is the case, perhaps the doe's "own will beguiled" was her succumbing to the chase, allowing herself to be led by the man because that is her instinct: to submit herself to a man--any man--in order to be protecting from future hunters. I'm really not sure, just posing questions and answering...myself.
What I found even more interesting was that Spenser remains a human throughout the sonnet. While the woman oscillates in description, from being described as a deer to someone with hands, to something that can fly, Spenser remains the huntsman. From a feminist lens, Spenser could be commenting that woman can change personas and attitudes so quickly; woman is easily influenced.
Other than this discrepancy, I really enjoyed the sonnet as a whole. What really hooked me about this sonnet was the use of the word "game" in so many different contexts. Like a game, so many things in life and love can change in an instant. But what remains constant? Love will always be a game.
An animal is defined as a multicellular organism part of the kingdom Animalia, a person who behaves in a bestial or brutish manner, a person considered with respect to the physical nature, a person having a specified aptitude or set of interests, or relating to human instinct. I don't know...most 16th century women just don't seem very "brutish" to me...
Now to Spenser. I found it interesting that his Sonnet 67, like that of Wyatt, described "the hunt" of the fair lady. He describes himself as a "huntsman after a weary chase," and I couldn't help but wonder, 'Why chase, then?' I have to applaud Spenser for his (assumed figurative) long and weary chase, even though he could have never imagined that the "gentle deer" would behold him with a "milder look" and let herself go with him.
But what is Spenser trying to comment about women? Even though he describes woman as a deer, the doe being associated with woodland goddesses, gentle, caring, and intelligent, is Spenser trying to say that even if a woman has these wonderful qualities, at the end of the day, she is still an animal? If that is the case, perhaps the doe's "own will beguiled" was her succumbing to the chase, allowing herself to be led by the man because that is her instinct: to submit herself to a man--any man--in order to be protecting from future hunters. I'm really not sure, just posing questions and answering...myself.
What I found even more interesting was that Spenser remains a human throughout the sonnet. While the woman oscillates in description, from being described as a deer to someone with hands, to something that can fly, Spenser remains the huntsman. From a feminist lens, Spenser could be commenting that woman can change personas and attitudes so quickly; woman is easily influenced.
Other than this discrepancy, I really enjoyed the sonnet as a whole. What really hooked me about this sonnet was the use of the word "game" in so many different contexts. Like a game, so many things in life and love can change in an instant. But what remains constant? Love will always be a game.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sonnet 73.
Sonnet 73
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
I wanted to analyze a soliloquy for this week's blog, seeing as I haven't been exposed to many.
This sonnet breaks my heart; there is an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and an acceptance of death; the speaker has an existential tone, embracing death and his future loneliness without his love. The "yellow leaves, or none, or few," that the speaker describes highlight his loneliness even further. The yellow color of the leaves have both positive and negative connotations, symbolizing the duality of the man's love for the woman to whom he writes. Yellow often symbolizes sunshine or happiness, alluding to summer joy and delight. However, though the color yellow symbolizes summer and life, the "none, or few" leaves on the trees indicate that the season is fall, when the leaves change colors. In a way, the speaker alludes to a transition in life, the maturation of his love and his life from fall to winter. He feels his death is imminent, as the leaves on the branches of the trees are turning different colors, just about to fall off. While the yellow colors of the leaves symbolize a passionate, living love, they also represent a darker image of decay, once again reminding the reader of the speaker's imminent death. So heartbreaking.
This sonnet breaks my heart; there is an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and an acceptance of death; the speaker has an existential tone, embracing death and his future loneliness without his love. The "yellow leaves, or none, or few," that the speaker describes highlight his loneliness even further. The yellow color of the leaves have both positive and negative connotations, symbolizing the duality of the man's love for the woman to whom he writes. Yellow often symbolizes sunshine or happiness, alluding to summer joy and delight. However, though the color yellow symbolizes summer and life, the "none, or few" leaves on the trees indicate that the season is fall, when the leaves change colors. In a way, the speaker alludes to a transition in life, the maturation of his love and his life from fall to winter. He feels his death is imminent, as the leaves on the branches of the trees are turning different colors, just about to fall off. While the yellow colors of the leaves symbolize a passionate, living love, they also represent a darker image of decay, once again reminding the reader of the speaker's imminent death. So heartbreaking.
The number of leaves on the trees is obscure; it could be either none...or just a few left, dangling, hanging on for dear life. It's as if the speaker is afraid his death will hurt his lover too much, and is intentionally pulling back from her, slowly but surely, to let her forget about him even after he is gone from her world. Just as the "sunset fadeth in the west," he will fade from her life.
The speaker's discussion of death is perhaps the overarching theme of the poem. His discussion of death is interesting in that I am unsure as to what he wants to get across by his discussion of death. Does he mean that his love for his lover is soon to die when his body deteriorates? Or is he insinuating that their love will rather survive the death of his physical body? The line that struck me as interesting was the line concerning "death's second self." Who? If Death has a second self, what would that be? Suffering? Life? Sorrow? Shakespeare's language seems even more cryptic in this sonnet than in his other writing, perhaps to underline the uncertainty of death. The speaker cannot be sure what will happen after his death, whether his lover will continue to long for him or will be able to forget him and move on. Perhaps Death's second self is uncertainty, as nothing in life is ever truly certain or uncertain...that is, but love.
And even love is somewhat uncertain, just as the dangling leaves on the tree. The speaker can't tell when they will fall off, and how many will fall off at one time. Sure, he could pluck them off, but that would be like trying to control the future, changing a fate. The sun will set and rise again, but there is no telling whether it the next day will be rainy or sunny. Love is changing, death is imminent.
Life.
And even love is somewhat uncertain, just as the dangling leaves on the tree. The speaker can't tell when they will fall off, and how many will fall off at one time. Sure, he could pluck them off, but that would be like trying to control the future, changing a fate. The sun will set and rise again, but there is no telling whether it the next day will be rainy or sunny. Love is changing, death is imminent.
Life.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Hamlet Ponderings II
I think Ophelia committed suicide. The biggest question that I have is why. I know that she probably couldn't handle the stress and grief of learning that she was just a pawn in Cladius and Polonius' game, that Hamlet murdered her father, that her father is dead. But I just cannot seem to understand why she would commit suicide, all the same. Or why she would drown herself. As opposed to...for example, stabbing herself to death. Or asking Hamlet to kill her. Something more dramatic.
So, is Ophelia ultimately weak or strong? I'm sure that some people probably believe that Ophelia's suicide represents her strength, and I guess I can see why she could be seen as strong. In a way, her suicide is one of the only decisions she makes in the play. It is not revealed as to who first started the relationship between Ophelia and Hamlet--if it could even qualify as a real "relationship"--and seeing snippets of Ophelia and Hamlet's exchanges during the nunnery scene, the only scene in which Hamlet and Ophelia directly speak to each other and are alone in the play, Hamlet seems to have a certain dominance over Ophelia. Sure, in the time period in which Shakespeare wrote his play, it would be normal for the man to have the power in the relationship. However, that does not necessarily mean that the woman should be weak--she just simply had to be weaker than the man. So I can see why some would say that the fact that Ophelia made the decision to commit suicide, although it might have been an undesirable decision, was a decision, a show of strength. A frustrated "hey men of my world, I can decide what to do with myself too" cry.
But personally, I find Ophelia weak. Sure, I understand that Ophelia has a "duty" to her father, and certainly to the king. But I don't find that enough reason to allow yourself to participate in your father and your lover's stepfather's conniving plots, especially without protest. Come on. If you really loved Hamlet as much as you said you did, shouldn't you be a little more reluctant about lying straight to his face? Of deceiving him? Of allowing yourself to become a small pawn in a plan? I don't know, Ophelia, but your passivity just about killed me. But what was most passive? The greatest show of your weakness? Your suicide. I see Ophelia's suicide as her way of escaping the madness that surrounds her, not only in her own mind but also in the people around her. She obviously becomes crazy after learning about the death of her father, presumably learning about Polonius' death by Hamlet, and ultimately decides to end her life to escape it.
I guess Shakespeare is attempting to illustrate the frailty of woman in Ophelia. She escapes conflict rather than facing it. Hamlet decides to take revenge for his father. Though he takes no action, he makes long speeches about being conflicted and wanting to make sure that his uncle really did murder his father before acting on anything. But, I mean, at least he has all the "right" intentions and doesn't give up on his life, though he does have some bouts of existentialism and depression--see "quintessence of dust" speech--he doesn't commit suicide.
Frailty, thy name iswoman Ophelia.
So, is Ophelia ultimately weak or strong? I'm sure that some people probably believe that Ophelia's suicide represents her strength, and I guess I can see why she could be seen as strong. In a way, her suicide is one of the only decisions she makes in the play. It is not revealed as to who first started the relationship between Ophelia and Hamlet--if it could even qualify as a real "relationship"--and seeing snippets of Ophelia and Hamlet's exchanges during the nunnery scene, the only scene in which Hamlet and Ophelia directly speak to each other and are alone in the play, Hamlet seems to have a certain dominance over Ophelia. Sure, in the time period in which Shakespeare wrote his play, it would be normal for the man to have the power in the relationship. However, that does not necessarily mean that the woman should be weak--she just simply had to be weaker than the man. So I can see why some would say that the fact that Ophelia made the decision to commit suicide, although it might have been an undesirable decision, was a decision, a show of strength. A frustrated "hey men of my world, I can decide what to do with myself too" cry.
But personally, I find Ophelia weak. Sure, I understand that Ophelia has a "duty" to her father, and certainly to the king. But I don't find that enough reason to allow yourself to participate in your father and your lover's stepfather's conniving plots, especially without protest. Come on. If you really loved Hamlet as much as you said you did, shouldn't you be a little more reluctant about lying straight to his face? Of deceiving him? Of allowing yourself to become a small pawn in a plan? I don't know, Ophelia, but your passivity just about killed me. But what was most passive? The greatest show of your weakness? Your suicide. I see Ophelia's suicide as her way of escaping the madness that surrounds her, not only in her own mind but also in the people around her. She obviously becomes crazy after learning about the death of her father, presumably learning about Polonius' death by Hamlet, and ultimately decides to end her life to escape it.
I guess Shakespeare is attempting to illustrate the frailty of woman in Ophelia. She escapes conflict rather than facing it. Hamlet decides to take revenge for his father. Though he takes no action, he makes long speeches about being conflicted and wanting to make sure that his uncle really did murder his father before acting on anything. But, I mean, at least he has all the "right" intentions and doesn't give up on his life, though he does have some bouts of existentialism and depression--see "quintessence of dust" speech--he doesn't commit suicide.
Frailty, thy name is
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Hamlet Ponderings
Whoa there, Hamlet. Ease up on the sexual innuendo, please.
Just kidding; it only gives us more to analyze.
I was a bit taken aback by Hamlet's sudden outbursts both during the "nunnery" and the "play within a play" scenes, but I assume that Shakespeare was trying to remind the audience of the previously mentioned prostitution imagery. What made me really think about Shakespeare's use of prostitution imagery and Hamlet's lashing out at Ophelia in Act III was how prostitution is connected to the whole play.
I keep seeing prostitution in the light of betrayal, a direct contrast to the duty that is described so often throughout the play. A prostitute would be "faithful" to many different people; this confused sense of duty seems to correspond to a lot of the characters in the play, most markedly Ophelia. If we interpret her and Hamlet's relationship as a once loving and intimate relationship--I, for one, do believe that their relationship was very passionate and intense at one point in time--then Hamlet's feelings of betrayal are understandable. However, I feel at times that he is a bit too much of, pardon my language, a drama queen about Ophelia and her actions. If Hamlet and Ophelia had such an intimate and caring relationship, I would feel that it would only be just for her to be called a "prostitute" if she had cheated on him with another man. His outright feelings of betrayal at her actions don't seem to correspond to their relationship. After all, I believe she should have a higher sense of duty to her father than to her lover. As Laertes insinuated, Hamlet would most probably not be able to marry Ophelia anyways because she is not of royal lineage. Therefore, it would stand that Hamlet and Ophelia were most likely going to be girlfriend/boyfriend and stay girlfriend/boyfriend. If they were not engaged or going to be engaged, I certainly hope that she felt a higher sense of duty to her father--although I do understand if she did not initially feel as loyal to her father because of his mistreatment of her, but that is beside the point--rather than to her lover, Hamlet. I guess what I am trying to say is that Hamlet really doesn't have that much of a right to continue to talk to Ophelia in such vulgar terms and feel so betrayed by her part in the plot to spy on him as he does. Just a thought...or maybe it's my inner feminist coming out trying to defend Ophelia.
Perhaps Shakespeare has made Hamlet into this hurt, sneering animal for another reason, and knowing old William, he probably has. I would like to think that in Act IV, the prostitution and betrayal themes would be more developed as Hamlet starts to understand and take in the situation more clearly. Perhaps, in the end, Hamlet will be a "prostitute" in his own sense to his father's ghost and memory.
With Shakespeare, anything is possible, and everything has another interpretation.
Just kidding; it only gives us more to analyze.
I was a bit taken aback by Hamlet's sudden outbursts both during the "nunnery" and the "play within a play" scenes, but I assume that Shakespeare was trying to remind the audience of the previously mentioned prostitution imagery. What made me really think about Shakespeare's use of prostitution imagery and Hamlet's lashing out at Ophelia in Act III was how prostitution is connected to the whole play.
I keep seeing prostitution in the light of betrayal, a direct contrast to the duty that is described so often throughout the play. A prostitute would be "faithful" to many different people; this confused sense of duty seems to correspond to a lot of the characters in the play, most markedly Ophelia. If we interpret her and Hamlet's relationship as a once loving and intimate relationship--I, for one, do believe that their relationship was very passionate and intense at one point in time--then Hamlet's feelings of betrayal are understandable. However, I feel at times that he is a bit too much of, pardon my language, a drama queen about Ophelia and her actions. If Hamlet and Ophelia had such an intimate and caring relationship, I would feel that it would only be just for her to be called a "prostitute" if she had cheated on him with another man. His outright feelings of betrayal at her actions don't seem to correspond to their relationship. After all, I believe she should have a higher sense of duty to her father than to her lover. As Laertes insinuated, Hamlet would most probably not be able to marry Ophelia anyways because she is not of royal lineage. Therefore, it would stand that Hamlet and Ophelia were most likely going to be girlfriend/boyfriend and stay girlfriend/boyfriend. If they were not engaged or going to be engaged, I certainly hope that she felt a higher sense of duty to her father--although I do understand if she did not initially feel as loyal to her father because of his mistreatment of her, but that is beside the point--rather than to her lover, Hamlet. I guess what I am trying to say is that Hamlet really doesn't have that much of a right to continue to talk to Ophelia in such vulgar terms and feel so betrayed by her part in the plot to spy on him as he does. Just a thought...or maybe it's my inner feminist coming out trying to defend Ophelia.
Perhaps Shakespeare has made Hamlet into this hurt, sneering animal for another reason, and knowing old William, he probably has. I would like to think that in Act IV, the prostitution and betrayal themes would be more developed as Hamlet starts to understand and take in the situation more clearly. Perhaps, in the end, Hamlet will be a "prostitute" in his own sense to his father's ghost and memory.
With Shakespeare, anything is possible, and everything has another interpretation.
Friday, January 27, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, January 23, 2012
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.
"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.
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