More morningthots

What did Shakespeare do for himself by writing so many plays? And what did the world gain? Did Shakespeare raise the public’s awareness about important political issues? I wonder how much money he made from his stage-work. And I wonder what he would have done with his time if he had been prudent enough to turn his back on poetry. Would he have been a doctor or a lawyer? I bet he would have made his parents proud.

What would you do, if you found yourself to be the mother or father of Shakespeare? “Well, that depends,” you answer: “Does this babe of mine strike me as just another mouth to feed, OR do I somehow know that this child whom I’ve brought forth is to be the Best Poet Ever, the way that the parents of Jesus knew he was divine because the Bible told them so?” – Yes, let’s say that you received a visit from an angel of the LORD, who said unto you: “Behold, my savior is kicking your womb, this instant, O Magdalene.” So you’re well aware, when your son Shakespeare steps onstage as an awkward teenager, that his role is soon to become extremely interesting.

“OK,” you say; “in this case, I’d treat my boy well. I’d raise him up to be a hard worker, but I’d make sure that he has all the flashiest toys. I would want him to find a good job and drive a nice car.”

So it sounds like you’d spoil him – do you think that you would have made better decisions if the angel hadn’t prophesied the future?

“No,” you say: “I didn’t spoil my boy – Shakespeare was still a good playwright. And I didn’t totally trust what the angel said, anyway.”

Alright, we’ll let your remarks here slide; I don’t want to get into a big argument over hypotheticals, at the moment. Maybe later. Right now, I’m focusing on the hard facts. So tell me this: What was your reaction, as a mother, when you saw that your son had written the famous play Hamlet?

“Again,” you say: “it depends on whether I attended a showing or not. Are you implying that I just happened to find the manuscript sitting on my son’s dresser, while I was cleaning his room; or, on the other hand, are you saying that I actually went to see the play performed at the theatre on opening night?”

I’m saying the latter – you sat in the audience and watched a performance; but it wasn’t opening night: it was a little later, after they got all the kinks worked out.

“OK,” you say. “Now what was your question?”

My question was: Did you like the way that your son allowed his character Hamlet the Prince to treat his mother Gertrude the Queen? Or do you think that he should have given the lad better manners? And how do you feel about the level of violence in the play?

“I admit that I walked out partway through,” you say; “during the dumb-show. I disliked the subject matter. It hit too close to home.”

Ah, then, how could your son have improved the play, so that you might have stuck around and watched it? What could he have done to make it appeal to you?

“Well, I prefer celebrity dance tournaments, and singing in church. So, either of those things would be a welcome addition, if they’d fit. But, also, say, if a theatre critic from an established newspaper were to give a good review to my son’s next project, I’d gladly second any professional opinion. I know that we’ve been talking about the past, since that’s the foundation of our imaginary situation, but I hear that Shakespeare is very well respected, nowadays, in fact. So, yeah, I’m supportive – I wish the best for his artistic pursuit. I’m just a simpler type of person; the dominant culture is good enough for me. But I’m all for him being the center of some fringe discipline, if everyone’s in agreement.”