Wednesday, May 23, 2012

O, how I faint when I of you do write


Mount Holyoke’s graduation was this last weekend.  Bittersweet, as always.  One of the students who went through the graduation ceremony was a student of mine who actually finished in December.  She gave me a book when she finished, and this seems like a Time Most Opportune to review it.

The book:  William Shakespeare, Sonnets
But, that’s actually the title on the back of the book.  The title on the front of the book is in letters which do not appear on my keyboard.  I suppose I could download some new fonts or something, but that seems hardly worthwhile for a blog post.

The book is a Bulgarian translation of the Sonnets.  And it was a funny experience reading it.  It has the poems in the original language on the left hand page and the Bulgarian translations on the right hand page.  So I have now read Shakespeare in the original (English, not Klingon) in a book with a Bulgarian translation.  Alas, I can offer no evaluation of the quality of the translation.  I can say with certainty that the translator did get the right number of lines, but beyond that...well, I can’t even tell if it rhymes.

Does reading Shakespeare in a book with Bulgarian translations improve the sonnets?  (This is the sort of question about which I know many Readers have been pondering for years.)  I don’t know.  (Just think—you have been waiting your whole life to know, and that is the answer you get…)  This particular volume was really fun to read; it is a very attractive little book.  Reading only the left-hand pages was also a bit of an interesting experience.  But what of the sonnets themselves? 

Confession time:  I have a really hard time reading books of sonnets.  I enjoy reading poetry, but there is something in the back of my brain that demands some variety when reading books of poetry.  When I read a series of sonnets in a row, my mind just goes numb.  Something about the repetitive cadence of the sonnet—over and over and over and over and over and over and (I was going to write it 14 times, but even typing it made my brain go numb).  Any given Shakespearian sonnet is really interesting—even the not-so-great ones are relatively amazing.  But reading 10 sonnets in a row…by the fifth one, my mind is completely elsewhere.  It’s like listening to a metronome.

So, is this a critical failing?  I like Shakespeare's sonnets.  Some of them are among the best poems ever written.  In an anthology of poetry in which the sonnets are mixed in with other types of poetry, I love reading the sonnets.  But, in a volume of just the sonnets—well, every time I have read Shakespeare’s sonnets as a whole, I have the same experience of feeling like I am driving through Nevada, just hoping to get to Wells so at least there will be some buildings to break the monotony.  (And if you have ever seen Wells, Nevada, you’ll know that this a serious sign of desperation.)

I have this nagging feeling that an inability to read 154 sonnets in a row with pleasure is a sign of cultural degeneracy.   That makes me sad.

So, from an album to which I was listening earlier today, here is a sad love song to capture the moment. 

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