THE WINTER'S TALE // Discussion

SPOILER ALERT: If you have not read THE WINTER’S TALE, please be forewarned that I will be discussing much of the plot, including the ending. So if you don’t want the story spoiled for you, do not read this post. 

Rating: Three stars—Good

I initially gave THE WINTER’S TALE four out of five stars, because it’s Shakespeare and I really like Shakespeare. I like the themes he deals with and his sense of humor and the language he uses. And I think I let that blind me a little to the flaws in this particular play. Fortunately, my subconscious was not willing to let me get away with this. So, as I lay awake one night, it suddenly came to me—the reason why I didn’t feel justified in giving THE WINTER’S TALE four stars. 

The Plot. King Polixenes has been staying with his friend, King Leontes, for roughly nine months. At this point in time, King Leontes’ wife, Hermione, is just about nine months pregnant. Unfortunately, Leontes gets it into his head that Hermione is in the family way because she has been having an affair with Polixenes (I’ll have you know, autocorrect keeps changing his name to King Politeness). After coming to this conclusion, Leontes goes into a rage and publicly accuses Hermione of this egregious trespass, despite her claims to innocence and the claims of those vouching for her. When Leontes orders his servant to kill Polixenes, both the servant and Polixenes flee the country. Shortly thereafter, Leontes imprisons Hermione, where she has a baby girl. 

Long story short, despite an oracle declaring Hermione innocent, Leontes remains persuaded that his wife is cheating on him and banishes his newborn daughter. Hermione and her son promptly die, as foretold by the oracle. 

Fast forward about sixteen years to Bohemia (which, contrary to Shakespeare's assertions, does not have a sea coast), where Hermione’s daughter, Perdita, has been raised by a shepherd and his simple son. Perdita falls in love with Florizel, Polixenes’ son, and after a twisty series of events, Perdita finds herself reunited with her father. Then, lo and behold, Paulina, noblewoman and friend of the queen, reveals an uncannily lifelike statue of the dead queen, which turns out to be the actual queen, alive and well. Everyone celebrates, and everyone lives happily ever after. The end. 

The Problems. Now, perhaps you already see where my issues with the story lie. (If you don’t, I’m not judging you, since I didn’t see it right away either.) 

The first part of the play is decent. We see an unreasonable man suffering a fit of jealous rage in which he essentially destroys his family. Cool. What’s not to love about that? I think Shakespeare handles that part really well. We see that Hermione is clearly not at fault (where in THE GAP OF TIME it actually looks like MiMi might have been willing to have an affair—you can read my full, semi-spoilery, one-star review here). Shakespeare shows us how unreasonable Leontes gets without bogging down the story. It’s all good here. 

Now we get to my first issue. Maybe I read the play too quickly, and I just missed it, but there didn’t seem to be a solid explanation for how Hermione and her son die, except that maybe the oracle actually curses them when Leontes disregards it. I’d buy that, I guess. But it still seems like clumsy storytelling. 

And then, of course, we have the second half of the story, which was not my favorite for multiple reasons. 

It is more overtly inappropriate than some of Shakespeare’s plays. More importantly, the cruder elements weren’t necessary for the sake of the story and ended up clashing with the overall tone. (This is my personal opinion, so if you don’t feel the same way, I’d be happy to hear your reasoning.) 

At long last, the king and his daughter are reunited, which would have made for a lovely ending if the story had left off there. Leontes has had almost two decades to regret his jealous anger. Now he has his daughter back, but she is full grown. He has missed out on watching her grow up, and he will always feel the pain of that loss. That is as it should be. I’m not saying this to be vengeful here. I just don’t believe that you can ignore the natural consequences of negative actions, either in fiction or in real life. If you drop a frying pan on someone’s foot, they’re going to suffer, no matter how much you regret dropping the frying pan in the first place. Your regret doesn’t change the natural course of cause and effect, neither does their forgiveness. So I would have been happy with this bittersweet ending. The damage Leontes has done cannot be fully repaired, and the life that should have been is lost, but he and Perdita can still find a new sort of happiness. 

But then we get to the whole part where the queen is suddenly alive and everything is good and happy. This is where I think there is a lie in the story. First of all, I’m not a fan of Hermione coming back to life. It’s too convenient and happy-feely, and it seems to bypass the natural course of events. It makes sense that Perdita would potentially find her father again, because these things happen. But Hermione dies in the first part of the play. To bring her back is to disregard how very serious Leontes’ crime was. Yes, this resurrection is a result of magic (I think), so I’m not denying that she could be brought back, if magic is a part of this story world. It just feels like Shakespeare is cheating here, presenting us with a sudden and easy happy ending. 

My second issue with this set up is that, when the queen comes to life, she acts as though her relationship with Leontes didn’t leave off on a very bad note. Except, excuse me, but everything is still wrong. Leontes’ regret does not change the fact that Hermione and her son died because of his anger, does not change the fact that he abandoned her newborn. I would understand if the queen had just been living separately all this time (as MiMi does in THE GAP OF TIME) and so had had the chance to come to terms with all of this, but from what I gathered, this is not the case. 

I’m not saying that Hermione should withhold forgiveness. I’m just saying that these things take time. Sometimes a lot of time. To have Hermione instantly acting like everything is okay, is to deny the depth to which she has been wronged. And until you admit how desperately you have been hurt by someone, your forgiveness doesn’t really mean anything, because you are offering forgiveness while simultaneously implying there is nothing to forgive. That is a lie. There is so much to forgive. 

When you forgive someone, you are not denying justice. In order for forgiveness to work, justice still needs to be served. When you refuse to forgive someone, you are allowing justice to happen the cold, heartless way, because you are allowing the other person to bear the full weight of what they have done. It is what happens naturally. When you do forgive someone, you bypass the natural course of events and take the full weight of the pain from the wrong that has been done, and you carry it on your own shoulders until it fades away. All this so the other person doesn’t have to suffer. That is why forgiveness hurts, and that is why it's so powerful. It is a different sort of justice. 

The story would have had a stronger ending, I think, if we had seen how much it takes for Hermione to forgive Leontes—if Shakespeare had shown us how expensive forgiveness of this sort is. There would have been a greater sense of justice in the ending. Instead, Shakespeare has treated forgiveness like it is cheap and effortless, and I reject that. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? Have you read THE WINTER’S TALE? Do you like Shakespeare? What is your opinion on forgiveness? What is your opinion on the ending of the play?

THE GAP OF TIME // Bookworm Is Grumpy

Note: There are mild spoilers in this review. Also, I will be doing a very spoilery discussion of Shakespeare’s THE WINTER’S TALE next Monday, so this is your advance warning if you want to read the play ahead of time. 

I'm using the Canadian cover here, 

because while the American cover is decently attractive in person, 

it's quite ugly online. 

One Star—Ick

I won a copy of THE GAP OF TIME (a modern retelling of Shakespeare's THE WINTER'S TALE) in a Goodreads giveaway. Thank you! 

Unfortunately, I did not enjoy this book. 

As a general rule, I try to be fair and polite when I write reviews. I don’t want to discourage authors, no matter how much I dislike their work. But I am struggling to keep my claws in on this one, so grab your popcorn and settle in. This could get intense. 

The first chapter was beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. I honestly thought it was going to be one of my top favorites for this year, at least. There were wonderful lines, quotes like: 

“What is a memory anyway but a painful dispute with the past?

I read that the body remakes itself every seven years. Every cell. Even the bones rebuild themselves like coral. Why then do we remember what should be long gone? What’s the point of every scar and humiliation? What is the point of remembering the good times when they are gone. I love you. I miss you. You are dead.” 

And: 

“See what I mean about memory? My wife no longer exists. There is no such person. Her passport has been cancelled. Her bank account is closed. Someone else is wearing her clothes. But my mind is full of her. If she had never lived and my mind was full of her they’d lock me up for being delusional. As it is, I am grieving. 

I discover that grief means living with someone who is not there.” 

I love quotes like these. I eat them up. I was sure THE GAP OF TIME and I were going to be fast friends. Having already lucked out with VINEGAR GIRL, another Hogarth Shakespeare that I won at the beginning of the year, I thought that maybe I was going to be two for two. Lucky me. 

Then I got to the second chapter and everything went downhill so fast it was like watching a landslide take out all the houses on a hill. I almost couldn’t believe what I was reading. Of course, there had been a couple warning signs. I’d had to go ahead and skip a few pages because there was some rather explicit sexual stuff. But I figured, whatever, these things happen, especially in adult novels, and I will just have to suck it up and be a big girl and move on. I knew I was signing up for an adult novel when I entered the giveaway. 

Except it got more and more awful. So. Awful. 

After the red herring of a beginning, the story switches from an introspective first person narrative to an angry, angry third person POV. We go from Shep, a character I would have loved to spend the whole book with, to Leo, the stereotypical adult fiction male whose thought life makes me want to take a shower. I didn’t want to be in his mind—his awful, dirty, violent, chauvinistic, angryangryangry mind. I skimmed most of his portion because it was so unnecessarily explicit, and there was no balance to make his thoughts easier to stomach. 

“Wait,” you say. “Shakespeare was known for being inappropriate at times. Surely you knew that when you signed up. This is a Shakespeare retelling. Why are you complaining?” 

You are technically right, but Shakespeare was known for his clever innuendos, the double entendres that you don’t always catch. He doesn’t typically rub them in your face. True, THE WINTER’S TALE, upon which THE GAP OF TIME is based, is a bit more crude than some of his other plays (at least the ones I’ve read). But trust me when I say THE GAP OF TIME is ten times worse, with 90% less artistry. There is a reason why I rolled my eyes at passages in Shakespeare but got angry at THE GAP OF TIME. 

I don’t want to insult the author here, because I can tell she really likes Shakespeare. Good for her. I’m glad she’s found a writing hero. But I think she’s failed to understand certain aspects of his writing. For instance, the fools in Shakespeare’s plays are always the characters who make the most profound statements. Shakespeare was fond of this sort of irony. But Clo, who is supposed to represent the Clown from THE WINTER’S TALE, is merely slow and simple. There is nothing wrong with being slow and simple. But to have the representative of the most wise character be the only one to say the least wise things seems like missing the mark to me. There is also the matter of implying that MiMi does want to have an affair with Xeno, when, in THE WINTER’S TALE, the whole point is that she is absolutely blameless and that her husband is making completely unfounded accusations against her. Liberties like that detract from the power of the story. 

It wasn’t that THE GAP OF TIME stayed as horrible as it was in the first 100 pages. While it had more sexual stuff interspersed throughout the remainder, it was squeaky clean in comparison with the junk in the beginning. What bothered me about all the sexual elements, combined, is that they were entirely irrelevant. The fact that Leo is jealous of his wife and her perceived affair is evident enough in his outpouring of anger against his friend Xeno, whom he believes to be sleeping with his wife. It is evident in his suspicion and his paranoia. We don’t need to have him rape his wife out of jealous anger to see that he is being unreasonable and crazy. That part made me especially angry because it is never dealt with. And don’t try to tell me false accusations of an affair and rape are similar, because they aren’t. Sweeping one under the rug might work okay, but please don’t ever treat rape, of any kind, as though it’s not a big deal. 

And just overall, I don’t think there was any sort of accurate portrayal of love in this story. Everything seems to boil down to sex in the minds of these characters. It’s their predominant thought, and maybe it’s just a personality thing—maybe I just don’t understand because that’s not how my mind works. But sex and love are not synonymous, and when sex is used as the only evidence that two people love each other, I am likely to be dubious of the author’s understanding of love, at the very least. 

There is more. I could probably talk for another thousand words about the other issues that bugged me, like the way the author mistakenly attributes certain observations on human nature to Freud, or the way she offers yet another stereotypical representation of a Jewish character, or the way she clumsily breaks the fourth wall and uses the last portion of the novel to explain her work. 

Part of my frustration stems from a matter of taste and opinion, and I know I am being extra negative. I have not felt this indignant about a work of literature in a long while, probably since I read THE CANARY ROOM. 

I wanted to throw this book at the wall. I considered cutting it up with a pair of scissors so I wouldn’t have to finish reading it. I almost gave up and DNFed, because I figured it probably wasn’t worth waiting till the end to see if the story would redeem itself. And even if the story got better, I knew that I probably wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. But the problem is, I won it in a giveaway. It’s a $25 hardcover (why are adult books so expensive, anyway?) that I won at my request. Which means someone had to absorb the cost to make sure I got this book, with the understanding that I would pay in return with an honest review. I felt I owed that to the author and the publisher. 

So this is my honest review. I absolutely cannot recommend this book. I feel betrayed because the beginning was wonderful and it promised more wonderful, only to follow through with a steaming heap of unpleasantness. There were brief portions where I thought it would redeem itself. There were lines I still liked and remembered. But even those felt forced, as though the author was trying to be profound, and there is a difference between trying to be profound and being profound. 

The only way in which THE GAP OF TIME did not waste my time is that I have never written a book review so quickly in my life. Scrivener couldn’t even keep up with how fast I typed the rough draft—it kept freezing. 

I’m giving THE GAP OF TIME one star because I can’t give it zero stars. And also, the first chapter was nice, and would have warranted five stars if it were its own work. So maybe this book deserves one star for that one chapter, to make things fair and square. 

This is the tiny portion of the book I liked. Also, I am wearing a TARDIS shirt, in case you were wondering. 

(Sorry about the weird angle. I took this photo on my laptop.)

What about you, my little coffee beans? Have you been more than a little angry with a book? Have you loved the beginning of a book, only to be betrayed by the rest? Have you read any Shakespeare retellings? What are some tropes and stereotypes in literature that put a bee in your bonnet?

VINEGAR GIRL // A Tiny Bookish Recommendation

Rating: Five Stars—ajklsdflk (when words fail to describe how wonderful a book is)

I won an ARC of VINEGAR GIRL by Anne Tyler in mid-February, but I haven’t wanted to post my review until closer to the release date. Since June is its release month, I no longer have any excuse to procrastinate. 

Strangely enough, I don’t have a lot to say about this one. It’s not that I didn’t think it was deep or important, just that it was like a nice cup of tea. You quietly appreciate the taste, you finish drinking it, and then you move on to other cups of tea. You don’t necessarily feel the need to explain to everyone just how wonderful that specific cup of tea was and why.  But that doesn't mean you loved the tea any less. (Can you tell I’m drinking tea at the moment? My brain is very confused because the tea is not coffee.) 

The Story. Essentially, VINEGAR GIRL is a modern retelling of Shakespeare’s THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. While Anne Tyler keeps a lot of the basic plot points, she also takes a fair amount of poetic license with the story. As evinced by my five-star rating, despite my love for the original, I’m a big fan of the changes she’s made. She’s simplified the story and taken out a measure of the dramatic, leaving it safe and cozy, but by no means boring. The characters are unique, charming, and lovable (except Bunny—I hate Bunny).

The Tone. Overall, the tone is lighter and quieter. Anne Tyler’s Kate is vinegar where Shakespeare’s Katherine is acid. I felt I was more able to relate to Kate, from her lack of romantic ideas to her propensity toward being a well-meaning bad influence on children. She’s not violent or especially bitter like Katherine—she simply has a mind of her own. 

Highlights. VINEGAR GIRL offers important observations on life and feminism, such as the fact that women are often treated as more valuable once they are engaged/married. 

Style. Anne Tyler’s writing style is quirky and refreshingly different from what I ordinarily read. I’ll have to see about stealing borrowing more of her novels from the library. 

In Conclusion. I highly recommend this book, especially for women, feminists, and all other literate humanoids. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? Have you read any Shakespeare retellings? Are you surprised that I didn’t have a lot to say on this one? (Because I am.) Stay tuned because in a month or so I will be reviewing another modern Shakespeare retelling.

Imaginary Love

“The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single,

it’s that I’m lonely and likely to stay lonely.”

–Charlotte Bronte

In my Valentine’s post, I referenced my aversion to Romance. For the longest time, I haven’t entirely understood this, since everyone around me seems to like the sappy love stories I actively avoid. Ever since I shared my short work with you, I’ve spent some time considering what it is that steers me away from normal human fodder. (My first guess was that I’m an alien, but I haven’t found enough evidence to prove that…yet.) At last I’ve come to something of a conclusion. In order to really explain this to you, though, I need to interview a very special person.

I’d like you to meet my imaginary fiancé, Edward Townsend. Edward brings many excellent qualifications to the table, including a Ph.D. in Romance from the University of Tough Love in Antarctica. Today we’re going to discuss some common misconceptions about this popular topic. So let’s begin.

 

Ed, over the centuries, love has been perhaps the most central obsession of every culture, spanning back to the creation of the world. Now, I know you studied History as part of your extensive training. Can you give us an idea of any traditional misperceptions that might have been carried down to us?

 

Actually, I can, and I’m really glad you asked that question. Take Ancient Greek Mythology. Nowadays we find depictions of cutesy Cupids with pudgy cheeks and harmless weapons. What some people might not realize is that this is very untrue to the original legend. For starters, Cupid himself is neither sweet, innocent, nor charming. In fact, he is spoiled, selfish, and mischievous. Though he is gifted with this incredible matchmaking power, he makes no qualms about misusing it. When his mother, Hera, nurses a grudge against Jason—our hero of the Golden Fleece—she coerces her son into shooting a woman named Medeia with his love dart because she knows this will lead to Jason’s downfall. Cupid, by no means too young to understand the ramifications of his actions, willingly complies—in exchange for a toy.

 

Can you tell us a bit more?

 

Since you have a space limit, I’ll stick to a summary. After Cupid shoots Medeia, she betrays her father and her kingdom, flees with Jason—leaving death and devastation in her wake—and eventually goes mad. When Jason tires of her—some would say he catches her insanity himself—and remarries, Medeia kills his new wife as well as her own two sons.

 

In your opinion, what might this myth have meant to the Greeks?

 

It seems pretty clear they were trying to make a point here. Human love is by its nature imperfect. It is jealous, selfish, cruel, unbalanced…the list goes on. That’s not to say we are incapable of stable, wonderful relationships. But those take work, and no romance is perfect. I think the Greeks understood how dangerous love is, that it blinds and annihilates and consumes. It’s akin to riding a wild horse—you may be in control, but the moment your attention strays, you’re likely to get thrown.

 

Now that we’ve had our History lesson for the day, is there anything you’d like to share from your extensive reading? I know you’re into Shakespeare. You could probably dig up loads of material from his writings.

 

I can indeed. Shakespeare dealt very heavily with relationships and human interaction. I could give you dozens of examples, but I think the most popular would be Romeo and Juliet, so I’ll tackle that. If any of you aren’t familiar with this work, be forewarned—I plan to discuss the ending. But before I get to that, I’d like to touch on a tangent really quickly, if that’s all right with Liz.

 

It is.

 

Thank you. In brief, perhaps the most commonly misunderstood line in the play is Juliet’s famous question, “Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” For those of you who aren’t well-versed in Shakespearean-era language, it would seem she’s asking Romeo where he is. But that’s not actually what she’s saying. The better translation is, “Why are you Romeo?” Romeo is a Montague, Juliet a Capulet. Both their families are locked in a bitter blood feud, and both individuals understand what they risk every day in giving their hearts to each other. While their love is beautiful in its devotion, it is also destructive and reckless.

 

Which leads to your discussion of the ending. And I think I know what you’re going to say.

 

*Chuckles* Liz has listened to me rant about this so often; she’s probably tired of it by now. What bothers me most about the conclusion is not that it’s tragic, but that it’s meaningless and entirely avoidable. When Romeo believes Juliet is dead, he is justifiably distraught. But I speak from personal experience when I say that the death of a loved one does not entail the end of all things. While it may seem romantic for Romeo to kill himself and so join Juliet in her grave, just like hugging a cactus may seem like a great way to embrace nature, the consequences are not as beautiful as the concept. And while that’s a silly comparison, it warrants consideration. Had Romeo not surrendered to despair, the two could still have had their happy ending. After reading this play, I know that I have not witnessed true love. If the two genuinely care about each other, and by extension their individual well-being, they would be horrified by this double death.

 

Can you pin-point some ways our modern culture reflects a similar misunderstanding of love?

 

Oh, absolutely. One of our greatest strengths is that we learn and absorb through story, but that is also one of our greatest weakness because we can inadvertently swallow the wrong messages and mistake fiction for reality. Usually when we watch a movie or read a book, we can differentiate pretty well. We recognize where the stuntman uses wires or the writer employs poetic license. But the line gets blurry when it comes to romance. Because our culture is inundated with portrayals of happy, flawless couples, we can begin to assume a relationship will fix our loneliness. After all, the happy ending comes when the guy gets the girl. So we put this into practice and then wonder why we still feel empty and irritable and human. Disillusioned by this failure, we break up and move onto the next woman or the next man, wondering why it never seems to work out. It’s not that I’m against love. On the contrary. But I’m against improper representations. In its truest form, love involves pain and sacrifice and choice (as seen in Jesus’death and resurrection), and I think we don’t see that often enough in our entertainment to understand what it’s like in real life.

 

Well thank you for joining us today, Edward. As imaginary fiancés go, I’d say you’re the best.