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Shakespeare the Thinker
A. D. Nuttall’s study of Shakespeare’s intellectual preoccupations is a literary tour de force and comes to crown the distinguished career of a Shakespeare scholar. Certain questions engross Shakespeare from his early plays to the late romances: the nature of motive, cause, personal identity and relation, the proper status of imagination, ethics and subjectivity, language and its capacity to occlude and to communicate. Yet Shakespeare’s thought, Nuttall demonstrates, is anything but static. The plays keep returning to, modifying, and complicating his creative preoccupations. Nuttall allows us to hear and appreciate the emergent cathedral choir of play speaking to play. By the later stages of Nuttall’s book this choir is nearly overwhelming in its power and dimensions. The author does not limit discussion to moments of crucial intellection but gives himself ample space in which to get at the distinctive essence of each work.
Much recent historicist criticism has tended to “flatten” Shakespeare by confining him to the thought-clichés of his time, and this in its turn has led to an implicitly patronizing view of him as unthinkingly racist, sexist, and so on. Nuttall shows us that, on the contrary, Shakespeare proves again and again to be more intelligent and perceptive than his 21st-century readers. This book challenges us to reconsider the relation of great literature to its social and historical matrix. It is also, perhaps, the best guide to Shakespeare’s plays available in English.
Much recent historicist criticism has tended to “flatten” Shakespeare by confining him to the thought-clichés of his time, and this in its turn has led to an implicitly patronizing view of him as unthinkingly racist, sexist, and so on. Nuttall shows us that, on the contrary, Shakespeare proves again and again to be more intelligent and perceptive than his 21st-century readers. This book challenges us to reconsider the relation of great literature to its social and historical matrix. It is also, perhaps, the best guide to Shakespeare’s plays available in English.
428 pages, Paperback
First published April 23, 2007
21 people are currently reading
462 people want to read
About the author
A.D. Nuttall
22 books3 followersAnthony David Nuttall was an English literary critic and academic.
Nuttall was educated at Hereford Cathedral School, Watford Grammar School for Boys and Merton College, Oxford, where he studied both Classical Moderations and English Literature. As a postgraduate he wrote a B.Litt thesis on Shakespeare's The Tempest subsequently published as Two Concepts of Allegory (1968), and considered by some to be his most original book. Nuttall first taught at Sussex University where he was successively Lecturer, Reader and Professor of English and where his students included the philosopher A.C. Grayling and the critic and biographer Robert Fraser. After a tumultuous period as Pro-Vice-Chancellor at Sussex, he moved on to New College, Oxford in 1984, eventually being elected to an Oxford chair.
His published works include studies of Shakespeare and works on the connections between philosophy and literature. Prominent among the first is Shakespeare the Thinker (2007), in which he examines the philosophical issues implicit in Shakespeare's plays, and among the second A Common Sky in which he follows through the literary repercussions of the English empiricist tradition and of the idea of solipcism. His work is characterised throughout by wide reading (especially in classical sources), common sense, a deep and broad humanity, a robust sense of humour and by occasional - and sometimes eccentric - references to popular culture (In Shakespeare the Thinker, for example, he cites the TV series "Wife Swap".) His brother Jeff Nuttall was a poet and an important figure in 1960s counterculture. To him he dedicated his book The Alternative Trinity, a study of the Gnostic tradition in English literature through Marlowe and Milton to William Blake, a poet to whom both brothers had been attracted in their youth, if in rather different ways.
From Wikipedia.
Obituaries:
The Times (UK) Online, The Guardian (UK) Online.
Nuttall was educated at Hereford Cathedral School, Watford Grammar School for Boys and Merton College, Oxford, where he studied both Classical Moderations and English Literature. As a postgraduate he wrote a B.Litt thesis on Shakespeare's The Tempest subsequently published as Two Concepts of Allegory (1968), and considered by some to be his most original book. Nuttall first taught at Sussex University where he was successively Lecturer, Reader and Professor of English and where his students included the philosopher A.C. Grayling and the critic and biographer Robert Fraser. After a tumultuous period as Pro-Vice-Chancellor at Sussex, he moved on to New College, Oxford in 1984, eventually being elected to an Oxford chair.
His published works include studies of Shakespeare and works on the connections between philosophy and literature. Prominent among the first is Shakespeare the Thinker (2007), in which he examines the philosophical issues implicit in Shakespeare's plays, and among the second A Common Sky in which he follows through the literary repercussions of the English empiricist tradition and of the idea of solipcism. His work is characterised throughout by wide reading (especially in classical sources), common sense, a deep and broad humanity, a robust sense of humour and by occasional - and sometimes eccentric - references to popular culture (In Shakespeare the Thinker, for example, he cites the TV series "Wife Swap".) His brother Jeff Nuttall was a poet and an important figure in 1960s counterculture. To him he dedicated his book The Alternative Trinity, a study of the Gnostic tradition in English literature through Marlowe and Milton to William Blake, a poet to whom both brothers had been attracted in their youth, if in rather different ways.
From Wikipedia.
Obituaries:
The Times (UK) Online, The Guardian (UK) Online.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
September 6, 2007
This is an in depth examination about the way Shakespeare's mind moved throughout his life by examining the best guessed order of his plays. If you can read between the lines you'll find good evidence as to why Shakespeare has lasted and will continue to last. My personal favorite is the examination of The Tempest and how Shakespeare wrote himself in that play. definitely worth reading if you are a Shakespeare fan.
Want to read
October 17, 2015Unfinished. Notes so far.
Excellent discussion of The Taming of the Shrew
p. 71: If one asks a reasonably literate person, "Who in the plays of Shakespeare binds a woman, strikes her, and makes her cry?" the chances are that you will get the answer "Petruchio". The correct answer is "Katherina". She does all this to Bianca at Act II, Scene i, lines 1-24. ... Petruchio never strikes Katherina. There is one moment when she strikes him and he responds "I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again" (II.i.220).
Contrast with his near-peer Christopher Marlowe:
p. 82: We have reached 1593. In May of that year Marlowe was killed in a scuffle in a tavern. He and Shakespeare were born in the same year, 1564. Before his death, Marlow had written Dido, Tamburlaine, parts 1 and 2, The Jew of Malta, Edward II, The Massacre At Paris, and Doctor Faustus. Shakespeare has written King Henry IV, Parts 1, 2, and 3, Richard III, The Comedy of Errors, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and The Taming of the Shrew. Seven plays each.
Compare to Ovid:
p. 87: Titus Andronicus, Marcus's long speech as he gazes at the mutilated Lavinia (II.iv.11-57). ... Ovid is the genius of this mode. The myth of Tereus and Philomel (Metamorphoses, vi) is a chillingly playful tale of rape and dismemberment. At lines 559 to 560 Ovid describes, in dapper hexameters, how Philomel's severed tongue skipped like a tail cut from a snake and tried, pathetically, to rejoin its bleeding mistress.
Ties E.M. Forster to Love's Labour's Lost:
p. 89: The Longest Journey (1907) gives us an analogous moment at a later period in history. Cambridge — the academy — is first established in the novel as a site of innocence and intelligence, where men love one another. Then "ladies" invade. The bubble bursts and nothing can ever be the same again.
Excellent discussion of The Taming of the Shrew
p. 71: If one asks a reasonably literate person, "Who in the plays of Shakespeare binds a woman, strikes her, and makes her cry?" the chances are that you will get the answer "Petruchio". The correct answer is "Katherina". She does all this to Bianca at Act II, Scene i, lines 1-24. ... Petruchio never strikes Katherina. There is one moment when she strikes him and he responds "I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again" (II.i.220).
Contrast with his near-peer Christopher Marlowe:
p. 82: We have reached 1593. In May of that year Marlowe was killed in a scuffle in a tavern. He and Shakespeare were born in the same year, 1564. Before his death, Marlow had written Dido, Tamburlaine, parts 1 and 2, The Jew of Malta, Edward II, The Massacre At Paris, and Doctor Faustus. Shakespeare has written King Henry IV, Parts 1, 2, and 3, Richard III, The Comedy of Errors, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, and The Taming of the Shrew. Seven plays each.
Compare to Ovid:
p. 87: Titus Andronicus, Marcus's long speech as he gazes at the mutilated Lavinia (II.iv.11-57). ... Ovid is the genius of this mode. The myth of Tereus and Philomel (Metamorphoses, vi) is a chillingly playful tale of rape and dismemberment. At lines 559 to 560 Ovid describes, in dapper hexameters, how Philomel's severed tongue skipped like a tail cut from a snake and tried, pathetically, to rejoin its bleeding mistress.
Ties E.M. Forster to Love's Labour's Lost:
p. 89: The Longest Journey (1907) gives us an analogous moment at a later period in history. Cambridge — the academy — is first established in the novel as a site of innocence and intelligence, where men love one another. Then "ladies" invade. The bubble bursts and nothing can ever be the same again.
January 12, 2025
The biggest strength of this book is that it tackles the plays in order of composition, meaning it can identify links between plays that suggest ways in which Shakespeare’s ideas developed over time. Its weakness is the author’s contention that Shakespeare was smart enough to think himself free from his context, and anticipate the theoretical preoccupations of future readers. I’m sure Shakespeare was very smart, but loosening the commitment to history means Nuttall is free to read the plays in his own way, and some of his interpretations are quite esoteric, even if they remain interesting. Ultimately those looking for a guide to what Shakespeare thought are better served by something like Jonathan Bate’s Soul of the Age or the James Shapiro year in the life books, where Shakespeare’s historical moment shines a light on the possible philosophical concerns in his works.
December 5, 2014
What utter silliness. (I realise this view will be seen as - at best - naive, and - at worst - idiotic.) The late A.D. Nuttall was clearly a brilliant man, but this is a scatterbrained examination of the plays, that offers very little in the way of substantive thought.
Nuttall is at his best when examining Shakespeare the man. He comes out fighting fit when examining character, and particularly the middle tragedies, such as "Julius Caesar". Perhaps the most interesting parts are in the opening chapters, when Nuttall descants on older methods of Shakespearean criticism.
However, clearly, the aged Nuttall never enjoyed a direct answer when the more complex would do. Perhaps I'm just not as intelligent as I thought, but much of this book struck me as reaching. Certainly not a book for the general public (as someone born and raised very much in the Bardolatry tradition, I still struggled), "Shakespeare the Thinker" is almost a parody of academia. It is an endless spiral of beautifully worded emptiness. (Whenever I read non-fiction, I use sticky-notes to mark important passages, so I can transcribe them into a computer file later. When I finished this book, I realised that 90% of my sticky notes referred to fascinating turns of phrase from Nuttall's generation that I wanted to remember, rather than insights!)
Perhaps my dismissiveness really is naive. This is clearly a book written for academics - and philosophers, at that. Nuttall is overly fond of the phrase "everyone knows" or "Everyone remembers" when discussing elements of Shakespeare's plays. It's painful, whether he's recalling events from the rarer plays or putting forth an opinion. There probably is an audience out there for this particular brand of criticism. Probably. I have a bookshelf groaning under the weight of Shakespeare criticism. At this point, "Shakespeare the Thinker" will probably find its place as one of the least.
Nuttall is at his best when examining Shakespeare the man. He comes out fighting fit when examining character, and particularly the middle tragedies, such as "Julius Caesar". Perhaps the most interesting parts are in the opening chapters, when Nuttall descants on older methods of Shakespearean criticism.
However, clearly, the aged Nuttall never enjoyed a direct answer when the more complex would do. Perhaps I'm just not as intelligent as I thought, but much of this book struck me as reaching. Certainly not a book for the general public (as someone born and raised very much in the Bardolatry tradition, I still struggled), "Shakespeare the Thinker" is almost a parody of academia. It is an endless spiral of beautifully worded emptiness. (Whenever I read non-fiction, I use sticky-notes to mark important passages, so I can transcribe them into a computer file later. When I finished this book, I realised that 90% of my sticky notes referred to fascinating turns of phrase from Nuttall's generation that I wanted to remember, rather than insights!)
Perhaps my dismissiveness really is naive. This is clearly a book written for academics - and philosophers, at that. Nuttall is overly fond of the phrase "everyone knows" or "Everyone remembers" when discussing elements of Shakespeare's plays. It's painful, whether he's recalling events from the rarer plays or putting forth an opinion. There probably is an audience out there for this particular brand of criticism. Probably. I have a bookshelf groaning under the weight of Shakespeare criticism. At this point, "Shakespeare the Thinker" will probably find its place as one of the least.
July 2, 2018
The title is too grandiose; this isn’t so much an examination of Shakespeare’s thoughts as it is an unspooling of A. D. Nuttall’s thoughts. He was a philosopher who was familiar with Shakespeare and had some ideas. Some were good while others, unfortunately, were speculative fancy. Time and again, while reading this, I thought that Nuttall’s views would’ve been irrevocably changed by simply mounting an actual production of the play under discussion—they simply couldn’t survive the rehearsal process intact. Approaching the plays as a philosopher is akin to approaching them as purely literary events; it can be interesting and occasionally helpful, but mounting the plays is really the best interdisciplinary approach. That said, I enjoyed his take on Measure for Measure, precisely because it was based on theological history, his own subjective impressions, and a brilliant little nod to one of my favorite stories by Jorge Luis Borges. Literary criticism has its place, and this was not a bad example of that genre by any metric.
May 13, 2021
One of the layers of pleasure in reading Shakespeare is that which streams through all the different plays and genres and styles. It is that process of accrual by which all sorts of interlinking themes, motifs, equivalences and references play out in the mind, much like the equivalent process of passages in books triggering sympatic memory. This very Shakespearean process which occurs in the mind always brings wondrous delight: 'oh, yes, that's exactly like that scene in...', 'ah, I remember that context in...'. One of the pleasures of reading an erudite Shakespearean, and this occurs page by page in Nuttall's discursive survey of Shakespeare's thought, is that he does a lot of this work for you. The very nature of his approach, taking the plays in chronology of writing and linking the developments of ideas, style, and form, deliberately creates this. Reading this intrinsic web of interconnectivity therefore constantly ignites that warm correlative function in your mind again and again. It truly is a thrill, that occurs in your own reading of the plays, and in reading others' analyses of them as they do this.
What results is a complex three-dimensional map of relations much like a map of the solar system, at first, then linking up wider bodies of similar characteristics into a more complex network of connections that comes to resemble at least a galactic quadrant, if not the whole galaxy or cosmos. With a truly thoughtful and deeply learned scholar, this process occurs throughout, and the map we get touches on, is part of the collective - but often disputed - Shakespearean scholarship, forming an SMAP, part of the LMAP of the cosmos of literary study, part of the WMAP of cultural knowledge. As with current observations from WMAP of an expanding universe, these bodies of knowledge are constantly growing.
So, while we read about the disputed dates and sources of the early histories and comedies - chicken or egg (I follow the RSC's chronology) - Nuttall reads in them the germinal seeds of later plays, scenes, characters and styles, while putting into context the particular play's techniques and styles in relation to both the Shakespearean and Renaissance canons (Marlowe...), thus building a picture of the development of Shakespeare's art. In between, you naturally form your own notions, and these are not merely nebulous fumblings, but undergo the same process as the learned scholar, in accruing a morass of detail combined with the larger intuitive estimations which the brain utilises with large-data problems, while naturally conceding a far reduced working data set from which to work, being less scholarly. But this is also why we read, to develop this process within us, to enlighten us, stretch us, exercise the mind, build up, extend that map. And to respond to these innumerable triggers which spark little explosions of serotonin in the process. The mind literally lights up.
In this respect - the intense pleasure experienced by a good book - this is a very good book. In the similar way that we feel we are being addressed by Shakespeare in The Tempest, say, we are very conscious of the author's voice, thought and mind, much like we are (particularly so) reading Bradley's definitive work of Shakespearean Tragedy (1904), or Felperin's on Romance (1972), or Kermode's on Shakespeare's Language (2000). What each of these books do is drench you in their passionate love for the canon, the language, the drama, and their phenomenal observation of and even extension of life through art - like all good works of art. Litmus and lightning, paradigm and possibility, probability and contention, postulation and proof, appreciation and pleasure. This is an ongoing pleasure through each essay on each play, sparking off memory, causing nods of agreement and frowns of objection. But first, you have to have read the plays. While Nuttall has taken the chronological approach of their (probable) writing, you can cherry-pick without losing too much context, but that context *is* the development of Shakespeare's thought as well as output, so it is best to start from the beginning. Unfortunately, I haven't yet read the Henry VI plays, but perhaps more importantly, with respect to the comedies and the idea of language and the pastoral, don't remember any of Love's Labour's Lost (1595), which seeds the development of Shakespeare's comedies throughout the rest of this book. Yet I have the principles.
Perhaps the central question to what makes great (or good) drama is that the author will demand of you a willing suspension of disbelief at some (or several) point(s), and his/her mastery of the dramatic form and of dramatic language will be so skilful as to convince you of its final resolution, and at times only just get away with it that the question hangs in the mind, provoking further questioning about the drama's and the author's efficacy, often leaving issues for sometimes fierce discussion. In Romeo And Juliet (1595-6), we are asked to accept such great loss (for we have come to like this couple of fresh lovers in their brief spring) upon the grating device of a single undelivered message, or a great excuse like the plague. And it works. It works because a comedy turns into a tragedy on that single hinge, and the fall takes so little time but ends at the foot of a great cliff. Shakespeare has built that fleeting paradise of hope atop a great cliff off which our lovers fall, while we have always known (from the Prologue) they will. It works, it is superbly well balanced, it's a bit of a magic trick.
But this is but one overall impression, while nonetheless a very valid one (consider the ask at the end of The Winter's Tale [1611], a play that stays with you long after the first experience). It is the ask of dramatic action, a wonder our minds should be open to, requiring our faith. However - staying with Romeo And Juliet - there are many more tropes, themes, generic precedents, cultural heritages, figures, devices, and so on embedded within each play, and the language of the play can seem so unique to it (Mercutio's Queen Mab speech) which in the canon is cross-fertilised (A Midsummer Night's Dream [1595-6]), that we can stay at the level of such references and not see the trees for the wood by doing so.
Nuttall opens up certain speeches in the play to things I never even saw. One fine example is the analysis of Juliet's soliloquy, just after Romeo has left the balcony (2.2.158-63), relating to Echo living sadly solitary in the cave. If you've read Ovid, or have a good annotation in your edition, you will get this reference; if you haven't, you will miss much of its impact, and when you are suddenly made aware of the reference in the imagery (without which it still carries a certain superficial imagery), you go 'ah!'. Because the depth of imagery in the metaphor, the reference to Echo's cave, and why she's there, alone, expands the imagery (and the tragedy) like an explosion - the very point of the imagery, of what Juliet wants to do, but is constrained by convention - here, the feud between the houses - not to do. It speaks of the bursting desire of love, of the constraints of the warring factions, captures the way love (and convention) enslaves you, portends the loss of their love, and echoes with a mythical model of doom. It is almost as if I had not actually read the play. This is the stuff upon which dreams are made.
He does, however, miss a trick, I feel. In his examination of Juliet's soliloquy in 3.2, after her wish that Phaeton's horses 'Gallop apace, ye fiery-footed steeds', to more quickly bring on Romeo with the night, he does not pick up his own cue. When Juliet implores 'love-performing night' to bring on her Romeo, 'That th' runaway's eyes may wink, and Romeo / Leap to these arms' (3.2.5-6), the image of the runaway (from his house, from society, from the conventions of the day, from everything but Juliet and the night) surely must be one of those steeds, having escaped its harness of day (for is it not always cantering towards the night?), closing its eyes and making the leap up onto the balcony and into the bedroom, with the blindness and blind faith of love seeking its master/desire. As such it is a very powerful image, the pulsing musculature of the wild beast, the black steed, freed from its constraints, and so on. For at the start we are with Juliet in her bedroom, above the secret garden below. Our mind is in hers, our mental location in hers, above. The image of the runaway black stallion leaping up into the bedroom, crashing in, unstoppable, powerful energies having burst its bonds, a wildness, a madness, the blindness of night she then goes on to negate, is such a powerful, and powerfully sexual one, surely it is unmissable? It precisely runs with the 'wildness of the love-death' theme he goes on to discuss (pp.117-8). Nonetheless, this talk of night and death is brilliantly illuminating.
In 'Isolating a Monster: Richard III', though, Nuttall seems to make a double error in a single paragraph. Discussing Richard's ability to inject humour into his largely cruel interactions, here in his retort to Lady Anne as being the beast who killed her husband, Nuttall says 'Richard counters again with impeccable logic: since he feels no pity, by her reasoning he cannot be a beast'. But beasts feel no pity, certainly not predators for their prey. (Or do they? Big cats kill by choking the neck, surely a mercy from their terrible claws. Perhaps he has a point?). He then immediately says, 'He shows mastery as he beats her, easily, on her own, theological ground (as Angelo will later easily defeat the less intelligent Isabel in Measure for Measure)' (p.51). Yet I disagree: Angelo is clever, not intelligent, he rules by pedantry, lacking the mercy requisite of the law, whereas Isabel lives by principle, intelligently, her actions governed by a deep morality. Angelo, who creates the central moral dilemma in the play, sentencing Isabel's brother to death for sex before marriage - while the brothel lies not yards off - rules by the letter of the law, utterly lacking the compassion and mercy which Isabel personifies. After having just talked about chiasma, and the issue of characterisation (from Bradley), Nuttall appears, in his support of Richard to have created his own logical chiasma. Or error of judgement, in the clarity of an analysis of the psychology Shakespeare was putting across of the wicked prince, Richard's words all ambiguity and full of self-serving, as twisted as his form. Ambiguity is meant, but he is a beast, without pity, and Isabel a paragon abused by men, and, by that cross-fertilisation of reference, Anne too.
Richard is an alexithymic: he does not feel compassion or empathy, he acts it as a tool learnt from those who do. This is why he both offends our sensibilities and has in some small part our sympathy at times. Because we seek to understand through our innate empathy. Yet it is easy to be molly-coddled by this streak of humanity in us, for there is none in him, and we must remember that. No, Angelo was not intelligent, nor is Richard. They are both clever users. Why, Richard, even in his final (stilted) examination of himself, lies to and about himself: 'My conscience hath a thousand several tongues' (5.3.193). He has no conscience, and this dread soliloquy (no direct address here, this is eavesdropping on his private thoughts) demonstrates precisely his alexithymia. No, this is Shakespeare using that moral baseline in ourselves, that Richard knows of, but cannot use himself, about himself, because he utterly lacks it intrinsically. So it is not his 'conscience', but ours he is placing up there in the centre of his fallacious moral argument, his 'casuistry', as Nuttall aptly points (p.51). Nuttall, though, does come back to the plank of our own opinion: 'In Richard the vigour of the late medieval "Vice" gives place to the mystery of the wicked individual, lost to pity, goodness, and humanity. This is *character*' (p.53). A Bradleyan, then (as he concurs, p.46). But this is a good passage on the dark psychology and specious ambiguity of Richard's character and the play. Specious = 'plausible but false; based on pretence; deceptively pleasing'. Richard, precisely. And yet, do we not have still some pity for him, the deformed child always thinking that none could love him, even the most generous always in some small part loathing? There goes that streak of humanity. This is dark psychological stuff, later anatomised in Macbeth (1605-6), in the dense darkness of its language.
Turning to Richard II, we get to those points of conclusion - via a roundabout view of the issues of monarchical absolutism, divine right, and king within the law - which sum up why we love the play, and, as Nuttall concludes, 'Suddenly we love Richard. But I am not sure that we should' (p.149). Richard's key three speeches, the despair on the shore (3.2), the deposition of his abdication (4.1), and the prison scene (5.5), are soaring highlights within Shakespeare. Richard's histrionic despair, his tears of self-pity, his childish remonstrance, is delivered of such beautiful poetry that we receive several shocks on different levels. Here is a true investigation into interiority. Here is a profound, intelligent character going through real pain, despite his collocation of personalities, the play-actor, the Christ-like figure, the child losing his toys, the observer of introspection and self, and the poet. Here is someone in despair who touches the empathy within me. All this floods us in a concurrent recognition that this is a very modern pre-Freudian representation of the psychology of identity. But more than anything, when such a seemingly unstable figure has a public breakdown in front of his former subjects, friends and the designated new ruler, who sobs with tears, who articulates himself beautifully, who has the brilliance of wit to say 'Ay, no; no ay, for I must nothing be: / Therefore, no "no"' (4.1.195-6), in summation of his fractured soul, witnessed by the hundred shards of the mirror, we are witnessing greatness in self-destruction. Surely this is what every suicide feels. And so it touches us more. While not a great play, it is a great tragedy. Yes, we do love Richard, even though we shouldn't. For even while we are on the side of the king of the people rightfully claiming his rights, against the god-anointed hegemon and his abuses of privilege and power, Richard has character, intelligence and soul, whereas Bolingbroke demonstrates little of either.
While is this not a 10/10 book, despite its erudition, its philosophical and theological learnedness, and its admirable largeness in analysing the development of Shakespearean thought, Nuttall demonstrates thought far, far greater than I ever could, and the deficiency in the rating is all mine.
What results is a complex three-dimensional map of relations much like a map of the solar system, at first, then linking up wider bodies of similar characteristics into a more complex network of connections that comes to resemble at least a galactic quadrant, if not the whole galaxy or cosmos. With a truly thoughtful and deeply learned scholar, this process occurs throughout, and the map we get touches on, is part of the collective - but often disputed - Shakespearean scholarship, forming an SMAP, part of the LMAP of the cosmos of literary study, part of the WMAP of cultural knowledge. As with current observations from WMAP of an expanding universe, these bodies of knowledge are constantly growing.
So, while we read about the disputed dates and sources of the early histories and comedies - chicken or egg (I follow the RSC's chronology) - Nuttall reads in them the germinal seeds of later plays, scenes, characters and styles, while putting into context the particular play's techniques and styles in relation to both the Shakespearean and Renaissance canons (Marlowe...), thus building a picture of the development of Shakespeare's art. In between, you naturally form your own notions, and these are not merely nebulous fumblings, but undergo the same process as the learned scholar, in accruing a morass of detail combined with the larger intuitive estimations which the brain utilises with large-data problems, while naturally conceding a far reduced working data set from which to work, being less scholarly. But this is also why we read, to develop this process within us, to enlighten us, stretch us, exercise the mind, build up, extend that map. And to respond to these innumerable triggers which spark little explosions of serotonin in the process. The mind literally lights up.
In this respect - the intense pleasure experienced by a good book - this is a very good book. In the similar way that we feel we are being addressed by Shakespeare in The Tempest, say, we are very conscious of the author's voice, thought and mind, much like we are (particularly so) reading Bradley's definitive work of Shakespearean Tragedy (1904), or Felperin's on Romance (1972), or Kermode's on Shakespeare's Language (2000). What each of these books do is drench you in their passionate love for the canon, the language, the drama, and their phenomenal observation of and even extension of life through art - like all good works of art. Litmus and lightning, paradigm and possibility, probability and contention, postulation and proof, appreciation and pleasure. This is an ongoing pleasure through each essay on each play, sparking off memory, causing nods of agreement and frowns of objection. But first, you have to have read the plays. While Nuttall has taken the chronological approach of their (probable) writing, you can cherry-pick without losing too much context, but that context *is* the development of Shakespeare's thought as well as output, so it is best to start from the beginning. Unfortunately, I haven't yet read the Henry VI plays, but perhaps more importantly, with respect to the comedies and the idea of language and the pastoral, don't remember any of Love's Labour's Lost (1595), which seeds the development of Shakespeare's comedies throughout the rest of this book. Yet I have the principles.
Perhaps the central question to what makes great (or good) drama is that the author will demand of you a willing suspension of disbelief at some (or several) point(s), and his/her mastery of the dramatic form and of dramatic language will be so skilful as to convince you of its final resolution, and at times only just get away with it that the question hangs in the mind, provoking further questioning about the drama's and the author's efficacy, often leaving issues for sometimes fierce discussion. In Romeo And Juliet (1595-6), we are asked to accept such great loss (for we have come to like this couple of fresh lovers in their brief spring) upon the grating device of a single undelivered message, or a great excuse like the plague. And it works. It works because a comedy turns into a tragedy on that single hinge, and the fall takes so little time but ends at the foot of a great cliff. Shakespeare has built that fleeting paradise of hope atop a great cliff off which our lovers fall, while we have always known (from the Prologue) they will. It works, it is superbly well balanced, it's a bit of a magic trick.
But this is but one overall impression, while nonetheless a very valid one (consider the ask at the end of The Winter's Tale [1611], a play that stays with you long after the first experience). It is the ask of dramatic action, a wonder our minds should be open to, requiring our faith. However - staying with Romeo And Juliet - there are many more tropes, themes, generic precedents, cultural heritages, figures, devices, and so on embedded within each play, and the language of the play can seem so unique to it (Mercutio's Queen Mab speech) which in the canon is cross-fertilised (A Midsummer Night's Dream [1595-6]), that we can stay at the level of such references and not see the trees for the wood by doing so.
Nuttall opens up certain speeches in the play to things I never even saw. One fine example is the analysis of Juliet's soliloquy, just after Romeo has left the balcony (2.2.158-63), relating to Echo living sadly solitary in the cave. If you've read Ovid, or have a good annotation in your edition, you will get this reference; if you haven't, you will miss much of its impact, and when you are suddenly made aware of the reference in the imagery (without which it still carries a certain superficial imagery), you go 'ah!'. Because the depth of imagery in the metaphor, the reference to Echo's cave, and why she's there, alone, expands the imagery (and the tragedy) like an explosion - the very point of the imagery, of what Juliet wants to do, but is constrained by convention - here, the feud between the houses - not to do. It speaks of the bursting desire of love, of the constraints of the warring factions, captures the way love (and convention) enslaves you, portends the loss of their love, and echoes with a mythical model of doom. It is almost as if I had not actually read the play. This is the stuff upon which dreams are made.
He does, however, miss a trick, I feel. In his examination of Juliet's soliloquy in 3.2, after her wish that Phaeton's horses 'Gallop apace, ye fiery-footed steeds', to more quickly bring on Romeo with the night, he does not pick up his own cue. When Juliet implores 'love-performing night' to bring on her Romeo, 'That th' runaway's eyes may wink, and Romeo / Leap to these arms' (3.2.5-6), the image of the runaway (from his house, from society, from the conventions of the day, from everything but Juliet and the night) surely must be one of those steeds, having escaped its harness of day (for is it not always cantering towards the night?), closing its eyes and making the leap up onto the balcony and into the bedroom, with the blindness and blind faith of love seeking its master/desire. As such it is a very powerful image, the pulsing musculature of the wild beast, the black steed, freed from its constraints, and so on. For at the start we are with Juliet in her bedroom, above the secret garden below. Our mind is in hers, our mental location in hers, above. The image of the runaway black stallion leaping up into the bedroom, crashing in, unstoppable, powerful energies having burst its bonds, a wildness, a madness, the blindness of night she then goes on to negate, is such a powerful, and powerfully sexual one, surely it is unmissable? It precisely runs with the 'wildness of the love-death' theme he goes on to discuss (pp.117-8). Nonetheless, this talk of night and death is brilliantly illuminating.
In 'Isolating a Monster: Richard III', though, Nuttall seems to make a double error in a single paragraph. Discussing Richard's ability to inject humour into his largely cruel interactions, here in his retort to Lady Anne as being the beast who killed her husband, Nuttall says 'Richard counters again with impeccable logic: since he feels no pity, by her reasoning he cannot be a beast'. But beasts feel no pity, certainly not predators for their prey. (Or do they? Big cats kill by choking the neck, surely a mercy from their terrible claws. Perhaps he has a point?). He then immediately says, 'He shows mastery as he beats her, easily, on her own, theological ground (as Angelo will later easily defeat the less intelligent Isabel in Measure for Measure)' (p.51). Yet I disagree: Angelo is clever, not intelligent, he rules by pedantry, lacking the mercy requisite of the law, whereas Isabel lives by principle, intelligently, her actions governed by a deep morality. Angelo, who creates the central moral dilemma in the play, sentencing Isabel's brother to death for sex before marriage - while the brothel lies not yards off - rules by the letter of the law, utterly lacking the compassion and mercy which Isabel personifies. After having just talked about chiasma, and the issue of characterisation (from Bradley), Nuttall appears, in his support of Richard to have created his own logical chiasma. Or error of judgement, in the clarity of an analysis of the psychology Shakespeare was putting across of the wicked prince, Richard's words all ambiguity and full of self-serving, as twisted as his form. Ambiguity is meant, but he is a beast, without pity, and Isabel a paragon abused by men, and, by that cross-fertilisation of reference, Anne too.
Richard is an alexithymic: he does not feel compassion or empathy, he acts it as a tool learnt from those who do. This is why he both offends our sensibilities and has in some small part our sympathy at times. Because we seek to understand through our innate empathy. Yet it is easy to be molly-coddled by this streak of humanity in us, for there is none in him, and we must remember that. No, Angelo was not intelligent, nor is Richard. They are both clever users. Why, Richard, even in his final (stilted) examination of himself, lies to and about himself: 'My conscience hath a thousand several tongues' (5.3.193). He has no conscience, and this dread soliloquy (no direct address here, this is eavesdropping on his private thoughts) demonstrates precisely his alexithymia. No, this is Shakespeare using that moral baseline in ourselves, that Richard knows of, but cannot use himself, about himself, because he utterly lacks it intrinsically. So it is not his 'conscience', but ours he is placing up there in the centre of his fallacious moral argument, his 'casuistry', as Nuttall aptly points (p.51). Nuttall, though, does come back to the plank of our own opinion: 'In Richard the vigour of the late medieval "Vice" gives place to the mystery of the wicked individual, lost to pity, goodness, and humanity. This is *character*' (p.53). A Bradleyan, then (as he concurs, p.46). But this is a good passage on the dark psychology and specious ambiguity of Richard's character and the play. Specious = 'plausible but false; based on pretence; deceptively pleasing'. Richard, precisely. And yet, do we not have still some pity for him, the deformed child always thinking that none could love him, even the most generous always in some small part loathing? There goes that streak of humanity. This is dark psychological stuff, later anatomised in Macbeth (1605-6), in the dense darkness of its language.
Turning to Richard II, we get to those points of conclusion - via a roundabout view of the issues of monarchical absolutism, divine right, and king within the law - which sum up why we love the play, and, as Nuttall concludes, 'Suddenly we love Richard. But I am not sure that we should' (p.149). Richard's key three speeches, the despair on the shore (3.2), the deposition of his abdication (4.1), and the prison scene (5.5), are soaring highlights within Shakespeare. Richard's histrionic despair, his tears of self-pity, his childish remonstrance, is delivered of such beautiful poetry that we receive several shocks on different levels. Here is a true investigation into interiority. Here is a profound, intelligent character going through real pain, despite his collocation of personalities, the play-actor, the Christ-like figure, the child losing his toys, the observer of introspection and self, and the poet. Here is someone in despair who touches the empathy within me. All this floods us in a concurrent recognition that this is a very modern pre-Freudian representation of the psychology of identity. But more than anything, when such a seemingly unstable figure has a public breakdown in front of his former subjects, friends and the designated new ruler, who sobs with tears, who articulates himself beautifully, who has the brilliance of wit to say 'Ay, no; no ay, for I must nothing be: / Therefore, no "no"' (4.1.195-6), in summation of his fractured soul, witnessed by the hundred shards of the mirror, we are witnessing greatness in self-destruction. Surely this is what every suicide feels. And so it touches us more. While not a great play, it is a great tragedy. Yes, we do love Richard, even though we shouldn't. For even while we are on the side of the king of the people rightfully claiming his rights, against the god-anointed hegemon and his abuses of privilege and power, Richard has character, intelligence and soul, whereas Bolingbroke demonstrates little of either.
While is this not a 10/10 book, despite its erudition, its philosophical and theological learnedness, and its admirable largeness in analysing the development of Shakespearean thought, Nuttall demonstrates thought far, far greater than I ever could, and the deficiency in the rating is all mine.
June 23, 2017
Nuttall's elegantly written book provides an analysis of the major philosophical and theological issues he believes are posed by the body of Shakespeare's plays. Some of the themes are obvious: the history plays deal with the legitimacy of royal authority, and when subjects may and should depose failed kings. Other plays, Nuttall argues, are also driven by Christian themes, including the resurrection, the nature of Christ, and his relationship to the trinity. Yet other themes are more conventionally philosophic. This is not an easy book; to follow all of Nuttall's arguments, you have to be comfortable enough with the underlying philosophic arguments, and some of the theological themes are so old that they matter more as historical curiousities. Given those parameters, readers familiar with some or all of Shakespeare's plays, will find this a valuable and engaging work, which reveals still more layers of meaning beyond common critical observations.
June 12, 2019
Though it occasionally drifts off into unsubstantiated speculation, this book is a compelling discussion of the philosophical threads in Shakespeare’s works. And while there are moments where Nuttall loses me, it’s is, overall, readable and accessible ( especially if you’re already familiar with the plays).
September 11, 2012
Very thought provoking. I came away feeling educated, with my views on at least one play profoundly changed. On the whole, however, I am uncomvinced by Nuttal's perspective. Still, it was beautifully written and valuable.
Read
December 31, 2007an amazing and beautiful study of the Shakespeare the philosopher
February 21, 2020
This is one of those books which I do not rate at 5 stars, but this because of my inadequacies rather than the author's.
I kept thinking, as I read, how wonderful it would have been to attend this study as a course of lectures by Professor Nuttall. Then perhaps it would not have mattered so much that I couldn't follow every thread of the argument: the pearls that he cast about individual plays or characters would have been sparkling enough for me.
I am no philosopher and tend to weary of philosophical concepts pursued to any depth.
So I was not so interested in Nuttall's comparison between the ideas in the plays and various philosophical systems, as I was in his ad hoc observations.
The book ranges through Christianity, Protestantism, Catholicism, Platonism, Gnosticism, Stoicism, Existentialism, Historicism. And it considers reality, unreality, fantasy, behavioural causality and motivation. And he looks, in depth, at the way a character does, or might, appear to the audience member, and especially at our level of sympathy. To achieve that perspective, he examines Elizabethan ideas, and many others.
Nuttall states early on that “The argument of this book is that, although knowledge of the historical genesis can on occasion illuminate a given work, the greater part of the artistic achievement of our best playwright is internally generated. It is the product, not of his time, but of his own, unresting, creative intelligence.”
I particularly enjoyed his comments on Richard 3, Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew, Richard 2 and Henry 5, Merchant of Venice but, perhaps most of all, Measure for Measure.
There are vast numbers of wise and perceptive comments and observations, some of which relate to the "thinker" aspect of Shakespeare, and some of which are just wise and perceptive.
It was a joy to read this book, although the book's thesis eluded me fairly regularly.
I kept thinking, as I read, how wonderful it would have been to attend this study as a course of lectures by Professor Nuttall. Then perhaps it would not have mattered so much that I couldn't follow every thread of the argument: the pearls that he cast about individual plays or characters would have been sparkling enough for me.
I am no philosopher and tend to weary of philosophical concepts pursued to any depth.
So I was not so interested in Nuttall's comparison between the ideas in the plays and various philosophical systems, as I was in his ad hoc observations.
The book ranges through Christianity, Protestantism, Catholicism, Platonism, Gnosticism, Stoicism, Existentialism, Historicism. And it considers reality, unreality, fantasy, behavioural causality and motivation. And he looks, in depth, at the way a character does, or might, appear to the audience member, and especially at our level of sympathy. To achieve that perspective, he examines Elizabethan ideas, and many others.
Nuttall states early on that “The argument of this book is that, although knowledge of the historical genesis can on occasion illuminate a given work, the greater part of the artistic achievement of our best playwright is internally generated. It is the product, not of his time, but of his own, unresting, creative intelligence.”
I particularly enjoyed his comments on Richard 3, Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew, Richard 2 and Henry 5, Merchant of Venice but, perhaps most of all, Measure for Measure.
There are vast numbers of wise and perceptive comments and observations, some of which relate to the "thinker" aspect of Shakespeare, and some of which are just wise and perceptive.
It was a joy to read this book, although the book's thesis eluded me fairly regularly.
October 9, 2017
This book was a long read, but was well worth it. Nuttall is (was) clearly a strongly philosophical thinker whose knowledge of, and sensitivity to, Shakespeare, was vast. In theory, the book is an attempt to explore what or how Shakespeare thought, based upon a close reading of his plays; this is an admittedly doomed effort, but is an exploration that is worth performing.
The book explores individual plays in a roughly chronological order. Close attention is paid to the words and phrasing employed by Shakespeare, with numerous asides directing the reader to differences in word usage in Shakespearian times, and how meaning often escapes modern readers. The author weaves the individual plays into a framework that shows Shakespeare exploring similar themes through different sequential plays, but from different perspectives and with different results. In reading this book, one learns not only about the individual plays, but also a lot about the contexts of the plays when considered as a whole.
There were a few times when I felt myself struggling with what the author was saying. This was true during his discussion of Richard II, where I found myself disagreeing with him, but also with his discussion of The Tempest, which I found somewhat incomprehensible and far-fetched. Nonetheless, the book was quite good.
The book explores individual plays in a roughly chronological order. Close attention is paid to the words and phrasing employed by Shakespeare, with numerous asides directing the reader to differences in word usage in Shakespearian times, and how meaning often escapes modern readers. The author weaves the individual plays into a framework that shows Shakespeare exploring similar themes through different sequential plays, but from different perspectives and with different results. In reading this book, one learns not only about the individual plays, but also a lot about the contexts of the plays when considered as a whole.
There were a few times when I felt myself struggling with what the author was saying. This was true during his discussion of Richard II, where I found myself disagreeing with him, but also with his discussion of The Tempest, which I found somewhat incomprehensible and far-fetched. Nonetheless, the book was quite good.
July 24, 2020
This book was published in the year of Nuttall's death. I don't know for sure but I wouldn't be surprised if were rushed to finish the work. I say this not because the analysis of Shakespeare's work is shoddy; rather, I feel as though the big points are made well but what could have been further avenues of exploration within each play's analysis could have been further explored. As an example, Jacques receives no treatment in the reading of As You Like It, although what's said of that play is quite good (indeed, Nuttall's excellent in showing Shakespeare's evolving attitudes toward pastoral throughout). At any rate, what's nice about this book is that it truly is about Shakespeare, compared to Harold Bloom's big book, which seems to be more about Harold Bloom.
March 21, 2022
I love Shakespeare, reading Shakespeare and learning more about Shakespeare. I have studied and read his works since I went to school and re-read my favourite plays every year.
This book is an in-depth study of the works of Shakespeare and I really enjoyed the writing and issues Nuttall brought up from his works. The observations were really interesting and for anyone who loves delving into the works of Shakespeare this book is for you.
I didn’t expect to read this this month as it came from the ‘oldest book I own’ prompt. I started reading this in university to help me with my studies and never got round to finishing it. I’m glad I managed to finish and it wasn’t all bad, even it it has taken me for the majority of March to read!
This book is an in-depth study of the works of Shakespeare and I really enjoyed the writing and issues Nuttall brought up from his works. The observations were really interesting and for anyone who loves delving into the works of Shakespeare this book is for you.
I didn’t expect to read this this month as it came from the ‘oldest book I own’ prompt. I started reading this in university to help me with my studies and never got round to finishing it. I’m glad I managed to finish and it wasn’t all bad, even it it has taken me for the majority of March to read!
December 31, 2018
This is some of the best Shakespeare criticism I’ve read. I especially enjoyed the author’s effort to glimpse the man behind the works *through* the work itself. The conclusion seems to be that Shakespeare’s intelligence is verified by the lack of bias in his art and, incredibly, his art doesn’t suffer for that lack of bias; it shines all the more.
I enjoyed the loose organization of this book and thought it worked well for the most part, but the author takes a bit too much liberty for philosophical tangents that yawn on and on. Overall, this is a great reference book and one I’ll return to.
I enjoyed the loose organization of this book and thought it worked well for the most part, but the author takes a bit too much liberty for philosophical tangents that yawn on and on. Overall, this is a great reference book and one I’ll return to.
June 29, 2022
For someone who is not a Shakespeare scholar, this was a good read. There are very interesting discussions of all Shakespeare's plays.
Nuttall doesn't pretend to be a philosopher and his presentation of philosophers is at a level that the reader does not need to be either. If you are expecting Nuttall to discuss the philosophical influences on Shakespeare, that is not what he does. His use of philosophers is very anachronistic.
Nuttall doesn't pretend to be a philosopher and his presentation of philosophers is at a level that the reader does not need to be either. If you are expecting Nuttall to discuss the philosophical influences on Shakespeare, that is not what he does. His use of philosophers is very anachronistic.
September 2, 2019
This is a most informative view of Shakespeare as a person. His plays are extensively quoted in support of the thesis that no-one can know what he actually believed as he was able to elicit so many reactions to his characters.
Well worth a read.
Well worth a read.
May 28, 2024
Brilliant, the mind of author Shakespeare
July 12, 2024
A bit "meh" for me.
Read Shakespeare After All instead, or Kiernan Ryan for something properly heavyweight.
Read Shakespeare After All instead, or Kiernan Ryan for something properly heavyweight.
March 13, 2016
Due to its length (app. 700 pgs.), this would best considered a reference tool. An excellent index gives explicit detail to each work. I chose five favorite plays rather than the entire book. Nuttall provides copious cross-references among the plays. His choice of topics is unique. For example: "King Lear"-- nothingness and redemption; "Taming of the Shrew" -- "breaking" (as in horses or Falcons) as opposed to "taming" and an alliance of Katherine and Petruchio; "MacBeth" -- the weird sisters as a trigger to bring inner thoughts into actions. Best Quote: "Whatever you think of, Shakespeare will have thought of it first."
January 30, 2016
Nuttall's study works as an academic course in Shakespeare and his plays. He moves through each play, makes incredibly rich connections between them and works from the era, and interprets with insight and wisdom.
His premise, as the title states, traces most of the modern discoveries in psychology, art, drama, sociology, religion and politics first moved through Shakespeare's mind and pen. I am inspired from the slow, deliberate reading and now wish to read all of Shakespeare's plays and then back again.
If you read one book on Shakespeare, read this one.
His premise, as the title states, traces most of the modern discoveries in psychology, art, drama, sociology, religion and politics first moved through Shakespeare's mind and pen. I am inspired from the slow, deliberate reading and now wish to read all of Shakespeare's plays and then back again.
If you read one book on Shakespeare, read this one.
May 16, 2021
While I didn't agree or see eye to eye with some of the play analyses, it is clear that Nuttall offered a very extensive account of Shakespeare's intellect and thought process. It was much more in depth than I was expecting, ranging from classical influences, philosophy, theology, and social climates, as well as bringing forth theories that wouldn't have been publicized until centuries later. Shakespeare really did think of everything.
February 21, 2011
It didn't make the right connections for me in terms of the authorship question.
I still feel the writer of the plays was not the actor/business man from Stratford.
Having said that, this book is actually very intellectually packed, and ultimately worth reading.
I found much of the information very helpful, even with my "Oxfordian" views.
I still feel the writer of the plays was not the actor/business man from Stratford.
Having said that, this book is actually very intellectually packed, and ultimately worth reading.
I found much of the information very helpful, even with my "Oxfordian" views.
June 14, 2020
For a change I found the blurb understated! This book is my favourite overview of Shakespeare's achievement. The author, for me, is one of a precious few with the wherewithal to appreciate the subtleties that even the closest and most attentive reading can miss. Anyone who hasn't got a full life left to appreciate the bard will do no better than this book.
November 27, 2008
The best book about Shakespeare I've read. Six stars.
(Though I haven't read that crazy Hughes book yet!)
(Though I haven't read that crazy Hughes book yet!)
January 3, 2008
interesting view.
April 9, 2008
I loved this book--it was a wonderful supplement to my Shakespeare kick last spring. More at:
http://www.amazon.com/review/R7HI1FSN...
http://www.amazon.com/review/R7HI1FSN...
July 18, 2009
A good guide to Shakespeare.
Want to read
March 17, 2009As his birth/death day approacheth, my thoughts turneth to the mysterious Mr. Shake-speare. This book holds great promise.
August 24, 2016
professional philosopher reads most of the plays, with something of a popularizer's style.
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