Hamlet’s Fatal Flaw

This is from SMBC Comics – a series written by Zach Weiner – who has degrees in Physics and Literature (exactly what I plan on getting my two degrees in). Click the title to go to the link.

Get thee to a nunnery

Perhaps this is an unremarkable connection, but both Hermia and Ophelia are told (Hermia by her father and Ophelia by Hamlet) to go to a nunnery. This is only relevant because “nuns in their rooms are free of distraction and can focus on the important things,” according to Sexson. Hermia’s father is suggesting that she remove herself from the distractions of Lysander – whether by devoting herself to god, dying, or marrying Demetrius seems to matter much less. Hamlet is ordering poor Ophelia to abandon him to his woe and enamor herself of something else.

To dream a dream

Like Hermia and Titania, my most recent recalled dream is steeped in the throes of mythology.
No, no snakes, no asses – something different and non-Grecian in origin.
I dreamt of trolls, the Huldra specifically.
For some background, the Huldra are a species of Norse trolls. They have dark, wildly curly hair, hollow backs, and, most strikingly, long tails. My grandfather emigrated from Norway, where this myth was born. The Huldra are all female, naked nymphs that glide through the forests. If a man catches one and manages to chop off her tail, she will wed him and make him the best wife. If he meets one and doesn’t succeed in tail-removal, he’ll become bewitched by her beauty and follow her into the forest. What happens to the poor man then is contested but always gruesome. In some tales, she will devour him, in others she is the equivalent of a succubus. So, in short, nothing one would want. My great great grandmother, according to family legend, was one such troll. She came to my great great grandfather through the woods of Norway, without name or family, malnourished and possessing of curly brown hair – unusual among the blonde manes of the average Norse lady. With her emaciated form and abnormal hair, she was instantly branded as a Huldra.
My aunt and I inherited the dark curls. Therefore, the troll blood is said to run thick through our veins.
Back to the topic at hand, my midwinter’s night dream.
I was fleeing through the forest, running from the calls and threats of the faceless man chasing me, his torch casting orange, unwelcome light onto the trees around me, shining off of the great ax he carried, dulled with sap and animal blood. Fear and fast heartbeat rang in my ears, the torch dropping from my pursuer’s hand to light the forest in flame, ringing me round in trees with futures of ash. A rough hand grasped my tail and pulled, indifferent to cry of pain or wish of mercy. The ax swung down, cleaving my single mythic part from the body that now belonged to my captor.
I awoke then, in fear, adrenaline pumping, and a curious pain ghosted over my tailbone.
Perhaps this post is pointless in relation to Shakespeare. Perhaps it is pointless in relation to everything. But a dream I will share when the subject is the belimbed clouds of fantasy.

And I supposed this post did have to do with asses after all.

Physicists and Speech

The language of man is commerce. In any random public place, chaos and commerce dominate conversation. In the physics building, EPS, this is not an accurate observation.
Instead of talking about dudes and how much was spent for lunch, the shape of the universe is debated and discussed at length. The colors of the stars. The beauty of falling objects. The serenity of derived equations that read like poetic images of the world…
Perhaps physics is where science and poetry and understanding and imagery can meet and intertwine. For there is ultimate beauty in understanding the physical, in observing and recording, in plotting the movements and documenting the traits of not only the heavens, but the earth in herself.
“All things are star stuff,” and while Shakespeare sees the art in the ordinary actions of people, physics sees the art in not only the large, but also the very small. Particles too tiny to ever be visually observed obey the same laws of motion as Jupiter, the Sun… The unity of high and low that Shakespeare achieves in theatre and poetry is the same seen in physics in the realm of science.
Perhaps in another life, Shakespeare would have been Sagan.

Seal of Shakespeare

I found it interesting that the daughter Hermia is a seal of her father. Besides the obvious connection to property, genetics, commerce that were discussed in part in class, there is another important connection. Hermia’s name is derived from that of Hermes – the messenger of the Greek gods. If Hermia is a seal, her name makes a lot of sense. Seals are often placed on letters before they are sent to act as a sort of return address. Hermia and her actions are the messages of her father. All she is and does is reflective on him as his actions. Therefore, her marriage would impact him deeply – whomever she chooses shines light on his choice of husband and heir and company. By refusing him, Hermia has become a forgery.

The Curious Case of Shakespeare Spoken

The height of the language in Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays (the latter of which I prefer greatly over the former) is unarguably miles above the common conversations in day to day life. If my morning, coffee-brewing convo with my pulling-on-her-snow-boots roommate happens about three feet above sea level (intelligence and depth wise), Shakespeare sustains conversations between his characters farther above this than the moon.

As such, simply reading Shakespeare alone as the words rattle and writhe within my head alone seems to deny the prose in some form. Each word of Shakespeare is meant to be shared, enunciated in dramatic twists to enthrall all within earshot.

This means, in short, that each time I open the collected works of William Shakespeare, I am compelled to read aloud – much to the dismay of my roommates and causing the occasional embarrassment of the reader (me).

Though I’m far from a practiced or talented speaker, being a quiet sort by nature with an unfortunate tendency to stumble upon every one in twenty words; any moment in any given work of Shakespeare has a tendency to flow and ebb off the tongue like an ocean of poetic expression.

Not only is Shakespeare easier to speak than to read, in my admittedly ignorant mind; Shakespeare is easier to understand when said aloud – possibly because for some small period of time you, the speaker, inhabit the being of each character.