Oh, Willie, what do I do with you? I haven't been particularly keen on checking out Shakespeare's Narrative Poems, since I was left rather underwhelmed by his Sonnets and A Lover's Complaint. We all know that Shakespeare is capable of beautiful lyricism and the blank verse of most of his plays is impeccable, but the poetry in itself is a bit ... disappointing. There were certainly some gems in this collection but there were also heaps of garbage.
Venus and Adonis
- 1 star
Oh boy, this was by far the worst poem of this collection. Spanning 35 pages of complete fuckery, Willie tells his own version of the story of the Goddess of Love and the extremely handsome Adonis. It's a mess. It was (apparently) published in 1593 and Shakespeare referred to it as "the first heir of my invention," which basically means that he is shitting on his own plays published prior to that, not even deigning them as true art. What a mood!
The poem in itself is absolutely creepy. Venus looks like a thot who can't take no from an answer. I don't know why Shakespeare diverted so far from Ovid's original, but apparently, the Bard was more interested in seeing Venus run around naked and trying to keep Adonis from hunting by desperately trying (and failing at the same time) to seduce him. Eeehh. No, thank you. Venus is constantly offering her body to Adonis in graphic terms and all I could think was ENOUGH ALREADY.
The Rape of Lucrece
- 5 stars
I told ya'll this would be a rollercoaster of emotions (and ratings)... Willie really isn't a consistent queen. From the first page, I knew I would adore this particular narrative poem. I am a sucker for Roman legends and I also find it interesting how poetry is a genre through which you can tell epic tales (unless the bullshit that Venus and Adonis were up to).
The premise of this poem is a hot mess: One evening, after a battle, Collatine describes his wife, Lucrece, as the most beautiful woman to other Roman soldiers. Not shortly afterwards, Tarquin decides that he has to have Lucrece for himself. He is overcome by lust, steals into her chamber and rapes her. The rape is described in vivid scenes and sometimes quite hard to stomach, but Shakespeare really managed to capture Lucrece's horror and desperation. However, he's still a misogynist, so don't get your hopes up too much. Lucrece says herself that she has to die because she is no longer "pure" and "chaste"... Cannot fucking relate.
Before her suicide (since we all know Roman culture is stabbing yourself to prove a point), she confides into her husband. He vows to avenge her. Along with his friend Brutus, they carry Lucrece's body through the streets of Rome. The angered citizens banish Tarquin and his family. So ... happy end, right?? (Ugh.)
So, this poem is hella messy and displays some very questionable values. Nonetheless, I adored it since Shakespeare's writing reaches his height here. Just for the aesthetic reason alone, I had to give it 5 stars.
The Phoenix and Turtle
- 3.5 stars
Only two pages long but utterly confusing. This is the poem that keeps scholars up at night. It's that obscure. In it, Willie describes a funeral arranged for the deceased Phoenix and Turtledove, respectively emblems of perfection and of devoted love (probably). Some birds are invited, but others excluded. It goes on to state that the love of the birds created a perfect unity which transcended all logic and material fact. So, Willie is basically trying to say that LOVE IS DEAD. Or... is he? There are so many different interpretations of these two fucking pages out there, my head is spinning. I can't keep up.
The Passionate Pilgrim
- 1 star
Ugh, this one was bad. It was originally published in 1599 as an anthology of 20 poems. Two of which would later turn into sonnets and three of which were extracted from Love's Labour's Lost. Ehh. I wasn't impressed with this at all. Some of these poems have been contributed to other writers and a part of me really wants to believe that ... because they're just sooo bad. Whiny love poetry that no one needs in their life.
Shall I Die?
- 2 stars
Not sure what the purpose of this is. This nine-verse love lyric was ascribed to Shakespeare in a manuscript collection of verses probably written in the late 1630s. However, his authorship cannot be regarded as certain. I thought it was super cheesy but not as bad as The Passionate Pilgrim.
The Epitaphs
- 2.5 stars
These were wild. I didn't know that you were allowed to write such sarcastic and dark epitaphs for your friends. Willie and I seem to have a similar sense of humour. LOL. For example, the epitaph for Combe makes a satirical comment on Combe's money-lending at 10 per cent interest. The verse says that he lent money at one-in-ten, and it's ten-to-one he'll end up in hell. Like, what a mood.
An anecdote recorded in the mid-17th century has Jonson beginning an epitaph to himself with the conventional "Here lies Ben Jonson ...", and Shakespeare completing it with the words "... who while he lived was a slow thing / And now being dead is no thing." RUDE. ;)