During the Super Bowl’s power outage, I started reading random blogs.  I found that I was not alone in being a little intimidated by Shakespeare and realizing that I’m not going to be able to say anything original about the man that hasn’t already been said.  A common topic blogged about is Shakespeare’s ability to not only create words, but also to convey his works in a realist manner.  Angel quoted Antony Sher, “Reading Shakespeare is sometimes like looking through a window into a dark room.  You don’t see in.  You see nothing but a reflection of yourself, unable to get in.  An unflattering image of yourself blind.”  In the Hughes’s book I’ve been reading, Hughes anoints Shakespeare as the greatest realist writer of all time.  To me, this would be a good argument that anyone could enjoy and get something out of Shakespeare today, even though that the plays and sonnets are 400 years old.  To sum up this argument, I guess I’ll plagiarize from Jerrod and, “The point I’m trying to make is… there’s simply no point.”

Shakespeare seemed to have been not only a master at creating characters, but in the names he chose for them as well.  Miranda in the Tempest, coming from Latin and meaning wonderful.  His characters seem to be extremes in some form, and I think Yuri alluded to this pretty well in one of his posts.  I like the idea of living life to the fullest and life is a stage with two hours to live, yet if I was to the live that way I’d probably be in jail, dead, or in the Hospital.  I think the Greeks might have been on to something with the idea of moderation in all things.

Honey’s post about the question of Human Condition: Width vs. Weight? That has me really pondering things, it made me kind of think of Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, and the superman.  How do we get to know ourselves and our identity? I’m not sure, and I’m not sure if its the same answer for everybody.  I’ve learned the most I’d say from mistakes, which makes me wonder how Shakespeare learned.  Hmmm…