Emma Smith (2)Rezensionen

Absolutely worth listening to the audiobook (read by the author). Each chapter is self-contained, one per play (there are only 20 covered in this book). Insightful, interesting ideas, and a fresh perspective to thinking about a given play. I listened more than once to chapters about my favourite plays, and certainly broadened my perspective on those I didn't care for.

I also read the hard copy, dipping in and out of different plays, and then bought my own copy.

I heard about this book on my favorited book podcast The History of Literature with Jack Wilson. I was super excited to pick up a copy. I love books, but more specifically I love old fashioned pappery books. I love the weight. I love the feel. I love how I can pull a book of my bookshelf and be immediately transported to the place and time where you were reading that book. I'm a minimalist but I allow myself as many books as a I want. To me they feel like little time capsules sitting on my shelf a history of where I've been and how I was thinking a different points in my life. So, needless to say I was excited to pick up a copy of this book about books as physical objects. It's a fun book. There aren't any giant revelations but it is packed with tons of interesting facts about books in their temporal form. If you are a reader and I'm guessing you are if you're looking at this review pick up a copy of Portable Magic. I think you'll enjoy it.

When I took English Literature classes at school, studying a Shakespeare play was de rigueur. And I can’t say I disliked that. Quite the contrary. I took a (worryingly?) nerdish pleasure in comparing different editions of Julius Caesar and Macbeth, reading every last footnote, looking up difficult essays on the plays. And yet, this precocious enthusiasm failed to translate into love for the Bard. It pains me to admit that besides these two plays, my knowledge of other works by Shakespeare works is limited to the few productions and movie adaptations I’ve watched over the years. I have occasionally attempted to read other plays of his, but it always seems too daunting a prospect.

In her introduction to This is Shakespeare, Professor Emma Smith highlights this problematic aspect of the playwright. Precisely because he is so often presented as an undisputed genius, Shakespeare too often comes across as a figure to admire rather than love. Smith, however, argues that what makes Shakespeare so “contemporary” and relevant is not that he is some sort of prophet, but because his plays are “gappy”, leaving much to interpretation, and allowing us to project onto them differing and sometimes diametrically opposite views. Just by way of example, it is surprising to note how rare it is for Shakespeare to physically describe his characters, thus giving free rein to a director’s (or reader’s) imagination.

Smith’s book started life as a series of lectures/podcasts and while the playwright’s “gappiness” remains an overarching theme, the book’s twenty chapters (and epilogue) are dedicated to specific plays and can be enjoyed as self-contained essays. Indeed, Smith herself suggests that for many of her readers, this will be a book to “dip into”, perhaps before going to watch a specific play.

The chapters provide intriguing insights and, more often than not, a discussion of one work leads Smith to investigate a more general subject. For instance, The Taming of the Shrew (unsurprisingly) prompts a discussion about Shakespeare’s views on women and marriage, whereas the essay on The Merchant of Venice explores the themes of business contracts and the play’s inherent homoeroticism.

Smith’s approach is fresh and engaging. She wears her scholarship and erudition lightly, and does not deem it beneath her to cite pop culture to drive home her points – she is just as likely to refer to Homer Simpson or to an episode in the sitcom Friends as to an avant-garde Shakespeare production. Throughout, her message is at once iconoclastic and enthusiastic – by taking Shakespeare off his pedestal, we might learn to love his works more.

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/06/this-is-shakespeare-Emma-Smith.html

This is a fitfully illuminating book, particularly good on those plays which have received less critical attention (the chapters on The Taming of the Shrew and The Comedy of Errors are the best examples) but less rewarding on the 'core' Shakespearian canon: the chapters on Lear and Hamlet feel really tired and that on Macbeth almost perversely (although not unenjoyably) eccentric. I found Smith's relentlessly slangy style both irritating and complacent, like a bad actor reaching for a comedy accent. Perhaps her students and listeners (the chapters originated as podcast lectures) loved it. But if anyone mentions 'gappy' in the context of Shakespeare again, I shall do such things...

Emma Smith is one of the leading contemporary Shakespearean scholars, and this book is drawn from a series of her Oxford lectures, which also formed the basis of a very successful podcast.

The book includes her thoughts on twenty of the plays, and offer a welcome mix of erudition with accessibility. Her scholastic insights are powerful, but offered up in a readily understood manner. It is clear that she wants an understanding of Shakespeare and his work to be universal, and not the preserve of a small academic clique. I was also struck by her understanding of theatricality – she understands how the plays work as acts of theatre, and not simply as text on the paper.

Along with James Shapiro, she has made a huge contribution to bring Shakespearean scholarship to a wider audience.

As I’d received a free copy of ‘Portable Magic’ in exchange for an honest review, I felt I should read it chapter by chapter, start to finish. However, whilst Emma Smith’s scholarly, yet very accessible, writing-style made that easy to do, even as I was reading I realised that there are sections of this fascinating history of ‘bookhood’ that I’ll want to re-read, and reflect on, in a more leisurely fashion. Within the sixteen chapters she includes so much intriguing information about the history of books, so many insightful explorations of, and reflections on, the enduring nature (over millennia!) of the hold they exert over their readers; the interactive nature of the relationship between the reader and the physical book; what makes a book a ‘classic’; free speech and censorship; the influence of books in shaping the course of history and bringing about political and societal change (to name just a few themes!) that I now feel my interactions with this wonderful book have barely begun! However, as the chapters are thematic rather than presented in an historically chronological order, I feel that this, combined with an impressively comprehensive index, makes it a book I know I’ll frequently be dipping in and out of … not only to absorb more knowledge, but for the sheer joy of appreciating, once again, the author’s eloquent and engaging use of language.
There wasn’t one chapter which failed to delight and inform me, to make me reflect on the history of the printed word and to challenge me to be more reflective about some of the factors which influence my reading experience. Her final chapter, ‘What is a Book?’, offers just one example to illustrate this. The author opens it with an admission that she had thought she ‘would stay away from this existential question … in part because the answer is usually either reasonably uncontentious or insufferably pretentious’ … as well as a pithy observation that … ‘If we don’t know by now what a book is, this book itself is a bit of a dud’! So, acknowledging that ‘the question of definitions recurs whenever books are discussed’, over the course of the seventeen and a half pages of this chapter she addresses how complex this apparently simple question is. She reflects on a range of different definitions and some of the factors which influence the frequently fierce debate engendered in the process of coming up with an answer! However, she concludes with her own definition: ‘… a book becomes a book in the hands of its readers. It is an interactive object. A book that is not handled and read is not really a book at all’. I find it hard to imagine any avid reader disagreeing with the essential truth of this reflection!
Not only is there a treasure-trove of information contained within the pages of this superb book, but the striking design of its dust-cover makes it a thing of beauty too – such an important part of the reading experience. I’m delighted to now own a copy of this epitome of ‘portable magic’ and recommend it without hesitation … it truly is a must for all bibliophiles!
With thanks to the publisher and Readers First for my copy.

The first thing I noticed about this book was the striking colours on the cover, the black background and the colours in the image immediately tells the reader that this book will be exciting.
This is a book about Books as objects not about the subjects written inside any particular book. Portable Magic is different from other books on this subject because there are no photographs or illustrations of any of the books mentioned , as there often are in other books of this genre. This is good because the reader has to concentrate on the text rather than just skimming through and looking at the pictures.
Portable Magic is made up of sixteen interesting chapters , each giving a description of different aspects of the enjoyment of book reading and collecting. These include the history of books, famous people who have collected books, how books are used in today`s society and lots more.

This is a highly readable analysis of Shakespeare's dramas, focussing on questions raised, rather than on providing answers. The play-by-play study only includes about half of the canon, but most of the major works are examined. The style is light and entertaining, though the editing seems a little sloppy on occasion. The analysis is interesting, and in some cases gave me new insights. She doesn't give a character-by-character, act-by-act synopsis, so if you are looking for something to read to bring you up to speed before you see one of the plays, look elsewhere. But if you want clever analysis, this book provides it.

Excellent short essays on 20 of the most popular Shakespeare plays. It's not a deeply technical analysis for academics, but more for ordinary readers. It gave me a different perspective on some of the plays I love, and includes ideas about different ways of dramatisation, attitudes of the day, and the openness of interpretation that I would never have expected from seeing recent performances.

Beautifully written short analyses of most of Shakespeare's plays. Thought provoking, often very funny, should be required reading for any actor/director about to embark upon a production. Highly recommended.

This seems to me to be an introduction for the student approaching a deeper study of Shakespeare but the writing of Emma Smith is so lively and interesting that it could certainly be enjoyed by the more general reader. There are chapters on Characters and how Shakespeare approaches them, on performance and how actors can interpret the words in the script, a chapter on the texts in general, how they have come to us and how they have been edited, Shakespeares language: did anyone really talk like that? Structure of the plays, sources and history. Smith uses examples from the plays themselves to make her points often concentrating on one play per chapter. At the end of each chapter there is a 'Where Next' section that points to practical things to do to further appreciate the subject matter and books for further information.

There is an awful lot of information crammed into this book, but very little that is dull and boring. It is presented in such a way as to make the reader think on what is being presented. I found this to be an excellent read and so again 4 stars.

[Shakespeare's Language, Frank Kermode]
This book examines how Shakespeares language developed throughout his career. It is aimed at the general reader rather than the scholar and Kermode is careful to explain the more technical terms that are used. Fifteen of the later plays are given a chapter each, while the earlier plays are covered in a part one that is given just a quarter of the book space. I am reading through part one of this at the moment and like very much how Kermode marshals his thoughts about the language of the plays. I will use this as a reference/introduction to the plays as I read them.

I never dreamed Shakespeare could be so off-putting.

The blurb on the back of my copy of this book concludes "This biography of a book traces the individual copies of the First Folio across time and space to understand what it has meant to its various owners and users."

To me, that implies actually listing and describing the copies and what is known of their history. Also comparing the copies -- and, no, they aren't all the same! At the time the First Folio was printed, type was set by hand, and when a mistake was noticed, it was often corrected -- but the already-printed sheets were used; reprinting was too costly. At most, a correction might be marked by hand -- but usually not. So if the first ten pulls of Hamlet's soliloquy had read, "To bed, or not to be," before someone noticed the extra "d," there would probably be a few copies of the First Folio which read "To bed...." These differences between copies are one of the major tools of modern analytical bibliography, which tries to figure out which readings came first and which came later, and from that to get closer to what Shakespeare originally wrote.

And that's even before the book came into the hands of its owners! Some of them might "illuminate" it; others would add their names and annotations and smart-alecky comments. (If it had been me in Jacobean London, I can imagine myself scribbling, "That Romeo and Juliet -- what a pair of twits! Why didn't they just leave town like anyone else with half a brain?")

So all copies of the Folio are individual, and by studying their individuality, we can learn a lot about Shakespeare's text. That's what I really wanted. It's not what I got. Oh, there are a few minor instances -- the story of Sir Edward Dering and his books, or of Henry Clay Folger and his obsession with collecting early Shakespeare printings. There are a few illustrations of various pages of the folio in different copies. But much too much of it is about things like how Folios taken to places like South Africa and New Zealand were used as tools of colonial aggression. I would maintain that, while colonial aggression certainly occurred, it was not the Folio that inflicted it, it was the colonists' attitude of "We have Shakespeare; what do you have to compare?" -- and then their refusal to listen to whatever the answer was.

All that might be forgivable -- after all, even if it's not really about the Folios, it's about Shakespeare. It might even interest the general public more than my admittedly detail-grubbing fascinations. But the work is also, frankly, pretty dull. That's not the content; it's the ponderous writing style. Very little happens in this book, and it happens very slowly. It's too bad -- I'd love to read the book the jacket blurb described. Unfortunately -- as with the First Folio itself, which was sold unbound -- this is a book that you can't judge by its cover.½

Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus!

The thing about drama is that everybody has to put effort in to learn their part, then they have to work together to make the play happen. Putting on a successful performance is very hard work but the buzz children get from the performance is huge and they learn that hard work is worthwhile. The play won't work without Titania, Bottom or Puck or all the more minor parts or the person who does the lighting, the scenery, the costumes. They compete for parts but work collaboratively to achieve a result and are proud of what they achieve. What better life lessons could children learn? There is bound to be a positive knock-on effect on other subjects. Any good play, or musical, will do this but Shakespeare has huge scope and, generally, a large cast. This is a wonderful initiative. We owe it to our pupils to open up to their imaginations a world beyond our own shores and time. The 'Metamorphoses' speak to us about the fluidity of identity and have so much to offer to teenagers confronting this issue in their own lives. They can be read with Jeffrey Eugenides' 'Middlesex' as effectively as with Shakespeare. Emma Smith is right to point to the importance of the Philomela story for 'Titus Andronicus', but the many rape narratives in the 'Metamorphoses' present serious ethical challenges in the classroom. In teaching teenagers (and not only) respect for others, you are teaching them respect for themselves. That's the main point of school and home; in their rapidly-changing world (i.e. their intellect, their bodies) these are mainstays. These are what enable them to contextualise the attacks of commerce on their minds. And anybody who thinks that good literature and art aren't great strengtheners of character is missing the point; of course, they are, because they improve human intelligence.

Stage managed, manufactured vessels who are 'famous' for no reason other than having their pictures taken and heavily edited and being over-publicised by people you never see.

Why anybody thinks that this is in any way 'good' is beyond me, but young people see these people being rewarded and being rich and think that this is in some way a worthwhile pursuit, whilst people locked in a laboratory or grinding out groundbreaking research they don't know or care about.

It's a big, big problem in the social media age but one that the people who could address it won't. Ms. Swift have one, possibly huge advantage over Shakespeare’s Cleopatra et al: they are real and they are still alive. But alive they may be, but to the audience who will never see them, except maybe on a well-guarded stage a long way away, arguably not real. So, a fictional character could perhaps serve as well as a role model as a media created celebrity. Whether a sixteenth century fictional character will serve is another question, but characters from “The Hunger Games” and “Game of Thrones” are equally distant in time and space, so it might work. The question we haven't dealt with is why Viola and Rosalind would be better role models. I think they would be but, why would they?

As for Cleopatra, she was selfish, manipulative and self-destructive. She blithely brought about the death of thousands of Roman and Egyptian troops (not to mention her lover) for no reason other than her own desire for power. She brought about the complete collapse of Egypt as an independent country, then she topped herself. Not a good example. Although many people seem to subscribe to the myth of Cleopatra as either some floozy of the ancient world, a brazen strumpet and home-wrecker who spent her time in the beds of the most powerful men of the Roman world, or of Cleopatra as the ultimate hopeless romantic and ill-fated lover who died by her own hand, supposedly by snakebite.

At any rate, Cleopatra is infinitely more worthy as a role model for women of all ages than the "famous for being famous" Lady Gaga. The historical as well as the Shakespeare’s fictional Cleopatra was a truly impressive personality: not only did she survive the murderous intrigues of the Ptolemaic court, she was also an enlightened and compassionate ruler. One of her most famous acts was - at a time of drought and famine - to issue an edict opening the Alexandrian granaries to feed the non-Macedonian population of that great metropolis as well as the rural poor, which - despite alienating the Macedonian aristocracy and elite -secured her popularity with all the peoples of the kingdom. Her respect for Egyptian cultural and religious traditions, led to her being crowned as Pharoah - the first Ptolemy in generations to rule as both King/Queen of Alexandria and Pharoah of Egypt as well as the first Ptolemy ever to speak Egyptian. Considering that she came to the throne while still a teenager, effectively ruling alone in a world dominated by men she did extremely well - and if one includes Marcus Antonius' excessively generous gifts of large chunks of the Roman Empire to her, she certainly expanded the Ptolemaic Kingdom to its greatest extent in centuries. Had Cleopatra and the Egyptian fleet only stayed to fight Agrippa and rescue Antonius' blockaded fleet at the strategic disaster that was the Battle of Actium, she would have dramatically changed the course of Roman, and probably world, history. Cleopatra was unquestionably a brilliant woman in her own right - as well as being a polymath and a polyglot fluent in all the languages and dialects of her own kingdom (including Hebrew) - she was a highly effective ruler of a notoriously volatile kingdom whose capital was not only one of the largest cities of the ancient world but also one of the most ethnically diverse, and her tolerance towards ethnic minorities - such as the sizeable Jewish community of Alexandria - is legendary. Intelligent, compassionate, tolerant and courageous, Cleopatra VII ought to be a role model already.

The best role models are people who worked hard and achieved something, and unfortunately, our society does not prize such people in the same way that we do women who have big bottoms or men who inherit lots of money and play businessmen on TV. And that's why these forced role models ultimately won't work. We see those people dwarfing the accomplishments of those who work hard and intelligently to achieve, because they start out from a position of privilege. If women aspire to marrying into money rather than making it themselves, can you really blame them? It's literally the main lesson that our culture teaches.

I was lucky in that I had an inspirational English Literature teacher (Vicki Hartnack) who made Shakespeare characters relevant and, where possible, fun. I still remember the enlightenment she brought with them.

Still about Shakespeare, would it be possible, even at high school level, to combine the English department with the Drama department to show pupils a more rounded, less dry, view of his work? Acting out, and seeing acted, such complicated works may make them seem more relevant. After all the themes of love, vengeance, war, friendship, happiness, depression, destruction, comradeship, confusion etc. are still as relevant today, but merely reading them off a page as I did eons ago, doesn't bring the complicated plots to life, or explain them in terms of today's society. It seems to trap them in the past. Teachers like Emma Smith (and my own Vicki Hartnack), who try to bring Shakespeare to the fore, should be praised.