Birthday Bard

This year, April 23rd marked the 450th birthday of William Shakespeare -- or, at least, marked the day when the world chose to celebrate it. (The Bard was born in 1564, but his exact day of birth remains a mystery.)

We don't know much about William Shakespeare. (I recommend Bill Bryson's excellent biography Shakespeare: The World as Stage, for as comprehensive a look as one can take at the famous playwright.) One thing, however, we can be certain about: his stories, characters, and poetry remain as popular, relatable, and relevant today as they did over four centuries ago.

So in honor of the Bard's big day, I'm here to recommend some personal Shakespearean favorites.



Comedy: Much Ado About Nothing

"There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and [Beatrice]: they never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them."

In Shakespeare's time, the word "nothing" -- pronounced as noting -- was also used to refer to gossip and hearsay. It's an appropriate reference for a story that follows the paths of two couples who have their worlds turned upside-down by the power of rumor. But it happens in two very different ways: while young Claudio is tricked into leaving his beloved Hero standing at the alter, the more worldly Benedick and Beatrice are tricked into the discovery that their feelings for one another run more deeply than expected.  For both couples, however, happiness is an obtainable goal -- but it will take work, wit, and some outside help for everyone to find their way.


One of the most recent versions of the play was directed by Joss Whedon (creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly, as well as the director of Marvel's blockbuster film The Avengers). But I'll always be partial to Kenneth Branagh's 1993 release, in which Branagh (who directs the film) plays Benedick opposite Emma Thompson's Beatrice.

-- Request Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing
-- Request Kenneth Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing


Runner-Up: The Tempest

Try this 2010 production, which stars Helen Mirren in the traditionally male role of Prospero. A sorcerer, Prospero uses magic (and some old-fashioned manipulation) to conjure a storm and bring about the downfall of Antonio (Prospero's treacherous brother) -- while restoring Prospero's daughter, Miranda, to her rightful inheritance.

-- Request The Tempest



History: Henry IV, Part 1

"I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;

Redeeming time when men think least I will."

Coming-of-age stories are particular favorites of mine. So I was bound to enjoy 1 Henry IV -- which, despite its name, is the first of three Shakespearean plays that focus on the character of Prince Hal (who will himself go on to become King Henry V of England).

The first part of Henry IV shows us a prince who has gained a reputation for himself as a bungling slacker (his father, King Henry IV, informs his court that he rather desperately wishes Prince Hal was not actually his son). But Hal always has the intention of shaping up once the chips are down -- despite the machinations of Falstaff, Hal's mentor, who hopes to keep the prince exactly as he is.

Hal joins his father on the battlefield in the play's final act, the two fighting to defeat a challenge to Henry IV's throne (a throne that will, after all, one day be Hal's). For some great battle sequences -- and truly fine acting -- look no further than this 2012 release from the Hollow Crown series, featuring Jeremy Irons, Tom Hiddleston, and Simon Russell Beale.

-- Request Henry IV, Part 1


Runner-Up: Richard II

I'm partial to last year's staged version from the Royal Shakespeare Company, starring David Tennant (of Doctor Who fame) in the title role. It'll be released to DVD next month; in the meantime, try the version from the Hollow Crown set, starring Ben Whishaw as the vain, selfish king whose overthrow and downfall is as necessary as it is heartbreaking.

-- Request Richard II

Tragedy: Othello

"O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; 

it is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on."

I've got a soft spot for Othello, my first-ever Shakespeare play. Othello is a general in the Venetian army; Iago is one of his trusted soldiers and a right-hand man. But not quite "right-hand" enough to suit Iago himself -- and when Othello promotes Cassio over Iago as his new lieutenant, Iago decides then and there to take his revenge.

What follows is a story spinning out from the machinations of one of the most evil villains in all of literature. What makes Iago so chilling (and so undeniably brilliant) is his skill in using half-truths to spin the worst lies imaginable -- lies which come to sound all the more convincing and plausible.

Jealous himself of Cassio's promotion, Iago turns jealousy into a weapon wielded against those around him. Iago may be the catalyst, but what makes the play a tragedy is that Othello ultimately becomes his own worst enemy, allowing jealousy to manipulate him as deftly as Iago himself does. The 1995 version, starring Laurence Fishburne and Kenneth Branagh, remains my favorite adaptation.

-- Request Othello


Runner-Up: Hamlet

If it wasn't for Othello, there's no question in my mind that Hamlet would be my favorite of the tragedies. The world seems to agree: it's probably the most popular of all of Shakespeare's plays, and definitely one of the most-often performed. Take your pick!

-- Request a version of Hamlet


Sonnet: Number Eighteen (Listen to it read online here)



Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 

Click here to hear Joss Whedon's version of "Sigh No More," 

a song from the pages of "Much Ado About Nothing."

-- Post by Ms. B 

Bad to the Bone

There was a little girl 
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very, very good --
But when she was bad, she was horrid.

Okay, it's kind of a silly way to describe a kid. But if we were talking instead about the art of writing poetry, those last three lines are right on target.

Writing poetry is hard. After all, poetry is the art of using the imagery and melody of words to convey the deepest of human emotions. It is, to put it mildly, a tricky balance act to get just right.

So it really shouldn't come as much of a surprise when it sometimes goes so, so wrong.

It's not that kind of "apology," but you can still appreciate the sentiment.

I took several poetry classes in college, and I came away with a deeper appreciation of poetry than I'd had before. I also came away with a strong love of bad poetry, because -- well, as you'll see, the bad poems can have a charm all their own. (I'm not alone in feeling this way: August 18 is the semi-official holiday of Bad Poetry Day.)

Bad poetry doesn't always happen accidentally, of course. Some of the best examples are poems written by their authors to be deliberately bad, either to serve a story or simply to entertain the audience. Gordon R. Dickson, a classic sci-fi writer, had the hero of his novel The Dragon and the George compose the following ode to the boredom of long trips:


An hour, an hour ... another hour ... 
Without a difference I can see, 
Like faceless children on a wall 
That stretches to eternity ...


It's not the best simile, maybe, but I'll give it that the image sticks with you.

The Internet is quite good at producing intentionally-bad poetry.

Then there was humorist Dave Barry, who was invited to write a poem by a "publishing company" who was soliciting some 3,000 other poems for publication in an anthology, which they would then sell to their 3,000 poets at the steal-away price of $49.95. Barry seemed to sense some funny business about the whole enterprise, and so he may not have been taking himself overly seriously when he wrote his entry for the project, simply titled Love. Here's a sample:


Love is what made Lassie the farm dog run back to the farmhouse to alert little Timmy's farm family whenever little Timmy fell into a dangerous farm pit;
Love is a feeling that will not go away, like a fungus in your armpit;
So the bottom line is that there will always be lovers
Wishing to express their love in an heirloom quality book with imported French marbleized covers;
Which, at $49.95 a pop multiplied by 3,000 poets
Works out to gross literary revenues of roughly $150,000, so it's
A good bet that whoever thought up the idea of publishing this book
Doesn't care whether this last line rhymes.


It wouldn't be Barry's final poetry-writing efforts, I'm happy to say.

Of course, the poems that are written in genuine earnestness -- but don't turn out to be quite as awe-inspiring as their authors intended -- are probably the most fun. Take this quatrain by John Close, a nineteenth-century poet whose output might be considered by critics to be inversely proportional to his talent:


Around the gods, each seated on a throne,
The poets, crowned like royal kings they sat.
Around their heads a dazzling halo shone,
No needs of mortal robes, or any hat.


Hats aside, I'm sensing a little hubris here anyway.

The Vogon aliens in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy torture their prisoners by reading terrible Vogon poetry to them. 

Sometimes bad poetry presents itself in the most unexpected of places. Poor Elisha Woodruff wasn't even a poet, but may be doomed to remembrance at the hands of Bad Poetry. Born in 1746, he would grow up to oversee the construction of two saw-mills in Vermont. He kept both in operation until 1816, when he was killed in an accident by his own merchandise. The epitaph on his tombstone mostly speaks fondly of Woodruff, as a husband, father, and friend, but the inscription begins with these verses:


How shocking to the human mind
The log did him to powder grind.


At least he'll be remembered.

There are times when bad poetry is unexpected because it's written by a poet who should know better. Eulalie might be the best example of this phenomenon, being written by Edgar Allan Poe, who is generally known as, y'know, a rather talented guy. Here's an exert from this particular masterpiece:


I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride ...


That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl --
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl.


This was most likely written the same year as Poe's poetry magnum opus The Raven. Apparently, he either wrote The Raven first and used up all his efforts for the year doing so, or he wrote Eulalie first and was saving his strength for more important works later.

In the hit show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the fearsome vampire Spike was previously known as William the Bloody because ... he wrote bloody awful poetry.

Poe wasn't alone in his ability to be a great writer who, like all human (and therefore fallible) artists, could still occasionally drop the ball. William Wordsworth, who is notable for writing my personal favorite poem, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, was also the "artist" behind The Thorn:


This heap of earth o’ergrown with moss,
Which close beside the Thorn you see,
So fresh in all its beauteous dyes,
Is like an infant’s grave in size,
As like as like can be:
But never, never any where,
An infant’s grave was half so fair.


I suppose we can't argue with that.

I'd be remiss in this entry if I didn't mention William McGonagall. He was a nineteenth-century poet who, much like director Ed Wood, has developed a cult following out of sheer admiration for the level of bad he was able to achieve. A weaver by trade, McGonagall found himself one summer morning suddenly inspired to write. His first effort was a tribute to his friend, the Reverend George Gilfallan, which began:


Rev. George Gilfallan of Dundee, there is none can you excel;
You have boldly rejected the Confession of Faith, and defended your cause quite well.
The first time I heard him speak, 'twas in Kinnaird Hall,
Lecturing on the Garibaldi movement, as loud as he could bawl.


Although my personal favorite is a tribute he wrote in honor of Sir John Ogilvy, a politician:


He was a public benefactor in many ways.
Especially in erecting an asylum for imbecile children to spend their days.


(You can read lots more of McGonagall's poetry here.)

Ross, of Friends fame, has been known to perform what he refers to as "wordless sound poems." Whether they're truly poetry or music, their ... quality remains unaffected.

It might surprise you to know (or perhaps not), but there is actually a contender for the Worst Poem Ever Written. It was composed by Theophilus Marzials, and is entitled A Tragedy. You can read the whole thing here, if you dare, but here's a sampling:


My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them -- and fled
They all are every one! -- and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
And dizzy me dead. 
I might reel and drop.
Plop.
Dead.                                            


It's not really any worse than My Heart Will Go On, if you ask me.

In the end, we probably shouldn't judge our less-talented poets too harshly. As Oscar Wilde observed, "All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling." It may be fun to laugh at the more unusual poetic offerings -- but it leaves me a little appreciative of poets from all levels of talent. Bad or good, their writings do, indeed, inspire emotion in their readers.

It just may not always be the emotion they intended.

-- Post by Ms. B 

The Lizard King

In the mid 60s popular music was changing, as was the culture of the United States. The Vietnam war was going on, the struggle for civil rights and the Kennedy assassination lead the U.S. out of it's post World War II "high". Much of the change in music started with the British Invasion, led by the Beatles in 1964. By 1967 the country was teetering on the brink with anti-war demonstrations and race riots in many large cities.

One band that epitomized the changes was The Doors, led by frontman Jim Morrison. They were a band like no other at the time and quite possibly since. Morrison's lyrics (along with guitarist Robby Krieger's lyrics) set to a unique sound, sent them to the top of the charts.

The band was formed when Morrison met fellow UCLA film student and organist Ray Manzarek on Venice Beach in 1965. Morrison shared some of his lyrics with Manzarek and the rest, as they say, is history. Drummer John Densmore and guitarist Krieger rounded out the band. They started playing gigs around Los Angeles in 1966 and in January 1967 they released their first album The Doors. This is considered, by many, to be their best album. It featured the hit "Light My Fire".

Over the next several years the popularity of the band soared. They had a sound like no other. They did not have a bass as a part of their sound; Manzarak provided that through the organ. Along with Jim Morrison's soulful voice and good looks, fans flocked to their concerts. These concerts began to take on a more chaotic nature since Morrison often times showed up drunk and high. This combination got him into trouble in a few cities for his alleged lewd and obscene behavior on stage.

After The Doors, their next several albums sold well but were not as well received by the critics. In 1970, they released Morrison Hotel which found them back at the top of their game. This was followed by L.A. Woman in 1971, which included the hits "Love Her Madly" and "L.A. Woman".

During this time Morrison was also writing poetry. Two books were privately published in 1969, which were later published as one, The Lords and The New Creatures, in 1970. Also in 1970, Morrison recorded some of his poetry, An American Prayer, which was released in 1978.

In March 1971, Morrison moved to Paris with his long time girlfriend Pamela Courson. His plan was to  get out of the lime light and concentrate on his writing. Unfortunately, only a few months later he died. On July 3, Courson found him dead in the bathtub.

The circumstances of his death have created an almost mythic quality. No one who knew Morrison saw his body other than Coulson, there was no autopsy and he was buried in Paris. This has lead to much speculation. For many years it was common for fans of The Doors to claim that Jim Morrison was alive and well and living in _______ (insert country of choice). Fans still flock to Pere-Lachaise cemetery to pay their respects.

In the early 1980s there was a resurgence in the popularity of The Doors and Jim Morrison, much of that was due to the release of No One Here Gets Out Alive by Jerry Hopkins and Danny Sugarman. I have to admit that I was one of those young people who "discovered" The Doors while in high school in the 80s mostly due to the Hopkins' and Sugarman's book. I may not listen to them like I did then, but I find that I still enjoy their music.


The Doors Discography:

The Doors (1967)

Strange Days (1967)

Waiting for the Sun (1968)

The Soft Parade (1969)

Absolutely Live (1970)

Morrison Hotel (1970)

L.A. Woman (1971)

Books about Jim Morrison:

No One Here Gets Out Alive by Jerry Hopkins and Danny Sugarman

Break on Through: The Life and Death of Jim Morrison by James Riordan and Jerry Prochnicky

Angels Dance and Angels Die: The Tragic Romance of Pamela and Jim Morrison by Patricia Butler



-- Post by Tracy