Shakespeare and Remembrance
Some thoughts about one of the greatest playwrights of the past.
William Shakespeare: April 23rd, 1564-April 23rd, 1616
Tomorrow I’m going to meet up with my very good friend Eve. We first met at Goldsmiths University at a lecture about William Shakespeare. I have always loved his work and learned about some of his most well known plays and sonnets at school, but having the opportunity to study more about the huge expanse of his work was an absolute delight. One of the lecturers I will always remember is an American, called Russ McDonald, who sadly died within days in the summer of 2016.
We all knew that when Russ was leading the session we would be in for a treat. He would talk so enthusiastically about the play we were studying that week, walking up and down, analysing the language and history of the text and reciting whole speeches from memory with love and ingenuity. He could be both witty and serious within minutes. Eve and I would glance at one another with a smile, both looking forward to the seminar discussions afterwards.
Shakespeare was a master of the study of human nature. His work portrayed so many varied issues, written in language which has to be heard to fully appreciated. If I am going to see one of his plays that I am less familiar with, I read it first, or even just the synopsis beforehand in case there are phrases that I might find more difficult to understand. While sitting in the dark auditorium, I bask in the beauty of the words onstage.
In his book, ‘Shakespeare and the Arts of Language’, (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2001), Russ McDonald writes of Shakespeare’s work that it: ‘[ …] assumes the power of words to beguile by the means of their sounds; of their weight, both semantic and aural; their connotative colours and nuances; the effects of sounds when combined with others like them, or different from them; the pleasures and the affective possibilities of patterned language [ …]’
Eve and I are planning to meet at Southwark Cathedral to stand and reflect at the memorial tomb of the great man himself, where he lies in splendour. I remember being told some years ago that sprigs of rosemary are often left at his feet and nobody knows who it is that comes in unseen and lays them there. We are both going to bring a couple of copies of our favourite speeches, maybe typed or recorded, which we will share over lunch. Afterwards we will walk along the South Bank, and we will probably sit on a bench outside The Globe, overlooking the Thames.
I am aware, that not far from us, lots of people will be standing quietly to reflect on the Albert Embankment, where the wall is covered with red hearts, each one painted in memory of a friend or family member who has died from Covid. The last couple of years have been a gruelling time in our world; a world which sadly often fails to remember what humanity really means, how we treat one another and the world we live in. Just imagine how many legacies there are represented on that wall. Thousands of people who will never be forgotten for the memories: the acts of love, kindness and humanity that they left behind.
I began by talking about one of my heroes, a man who left millions of wonderful words, stories and histories which will never be forgotten. Another of my heroes, Mr Russ McDonald enhanced the lives of thousands of students and people across the world for helping us to learn and relish Shakespeare’s wisdom and talent. Thankyou Sir.
Oh, hang on a moment … my phone’s ringing ………….Ok, it was Eve, thought it might be. She has promised to ‘borrow’ a couple of sprigs of rosemary from her neighbour’s garden for us to take tomorrow.
Take care everyone,
Anna x
William Shakespeare: April 23rd, 1564-April 23rd, 1616
Tomorrow I’m going to meet up with my very good friend Eve. We first met at Goldsmiths University at a lecture about William Shakespeare. I have always loved his work and learned about some of his most well known plays and sonnets at school, but having the opportunity to study more about the huge expanse of his work was an absolute delight. One of the lecturers I will always remember is an American, called Russ McDonald, who sadly died within days in the summer of 2016.
We all knew that when Russ was leading the session we would be in for a treat. He would talk so enthusiastically about the play we were studying that week, walking up and down, analysing the language and history of the text and reciting whole speeches from memory with love and ingenuity. He could be both witty and serious within minutes. Eve and I would glance at one another with a smile, both looking forward to the seminar discussions afterwards.
Shakespeare was a master of the study of human nature. His work portrayed so many varied issues, written in language which has to be heard to fully appreciated. If I am going to see one of his plays that I am less familiar with, I read it first, or even just the synopsis beforehand in case there are phrases that I might find more difficult to understand. While sitting in the dark auditorium, I bask in the beauty of the words onstage.
In his book, ‘Shakespeare and the Arts of Language’, (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2001), Russ McDonald writes of Shakespeare’s work that it: ‘[ …] assumes the power of words to beguile by the means of their sounds; of their weight, both semantic and aural; their connotative colours and nuances; the effects of sounds when combined with others like them, or different from them; the pleasures and the affective possibilities of patterned language [ …]’
Eve and I are planning to meet at Southwark Cathedral to stand and reflect at the memorial tomb of the great man himself, where he lies in splendour. I remember being told some years ago that sprigs of rosemary are often left at his feet and nobody knows who it is that comes in unseen and lays them there. We are both going to bring a couple of copies of our favourite speeches, maybe typed or recorded, which we will share over lunch. Afterwards we will walk along the South Bank, and we will probably sit on a bench outside The Globe, overlooking the Thames.
I am aware, that not far from us, lots of people will be standing quietly to reflect on the Albert Embankment, where the wall is covered with red hearts, each one painted in memory of a friend or family member who has died from Covid. The last couple of years have been a gruelling time in our world; a world which sadly often fails to remember what humanity really means, how we treat one another and the world we live in. Just imagine how many legacies there are represented on that wall. Thousands of people who will never be forgotten for the memories: the acts of love, kindness and humanity that they left behind.
I began by talking about one of my heroes, a man who left millions of wonderful words, stories and histories which will never be forgotten. Another of my heroes, Mr Russ McDonald enhanced the lives of thousands of students and people across the world for helping us to learn and relish Shakespeare’s wisdom and talent. Thankyou Sir.
Oh, hang on a moment … my phone’s ringing ………….Ok, it was Eve, thought it might be. She has promised to ‘borrow’ a couple of sprigs of rosemary from her neighbour’s garden for us to take tomorrow.
Take care everyone,
Anna x
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