Paul Adrian Fried / HAMLET'S BIBLE

In Hamlet, the ghost tells the prince that his brother Claudius poisoned him by pouring a vial of "cursèd hebona" (1.5.69) in his ear.[1] Yet the ghost first presents the poisoned ear as a metaphor for how Claudius lied about the cause of his brother's death: So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forgèd process of my death Rankly abused. (1.5.43-45) It is possible that Prince Hamlet has had his own ear poisoned by what the ghost tells him: The ghost may be a demon in disguise, or a sinner in purgatory, not yet purged of his sinful and distorting assumptions, goals, and ways of viewing his own life.[2] In general, this idea of death by ear would have had other resonances for Elizabethan audiences: By the time Shakespeare's play was first published in the first quarto (1603) and expanded in the second of 1604, Mary, Queen of Scots had already been executed in 1587, the focus of alleged plots to overthrow Elizabeth and replace her on the English throne. Mary's first hu

In 2020, Connor Hanratty [1] posted about “the owl was a baker’s daughter” [2], touching only briefly on the folktale allusion (not mentioning its strong resemblance to the gospel tale of Lazarus and the rich man [3]). Hanratty mentions an 1851 source about an ancient connection between baker's daughters and prostitutes. Presumably, prostitutes waited for customers at bakeries, and "On certain festivals, the master bakers sold nothing but sacrificial breads, and at the same time they had slave girls or servant maids who prostituted themselves day and night in the bakery.” [4] This, like many Freudian readings, may seem a sexually reductionist explanation. But note: Both the baker's daughter in the tale, and the prostitute, are concerned with monetary profit, when what they offer might also be considered a gift: In a healthy relationship, sexual pleasure might best be a mutual gift, not a for-profit exchange. In a healthy community, beggars get fed (as do potential prostitu

In The Corisco Conspiracy , Raphael Sóne's has written a book of fanfiction that takes readers on a wonderful romp, exploring possibilities about the mystery that is Shakespeare. It can be a fun for any reader, but especially for those aware of four things: (1) Shakespeare authorship debate (and authorship collaboration research). (2) The Gunpowder Plot. (3) Shakespeare scholarship’s "turn to religion," circa 2000, considering (among other things) Catholic influences. (4) Awareness of how Shakespeare has been used as a tool of empire, mostly for the benefit of fair-skinned English people. The Corisco Conspiracy: A Memoir of William Shakespeare , combines some of these, as well as an awareness of how the author’s Jesuit predecessors attempted to overthrow the English government and return Protestant England to Catholicism. Many agree that Shakespeare collaborated with other writers far more than the First Folio would have us believe. What if some of them were African, or M

It is often said that Laertes is a foil for Hamlet. Hamlet says he sees his own image in Laertes: But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself, For by the image of my cause I see The portraiture of his. (5.2.85-88) Later in the scene, the word “foil” is used five times, usually by Hamlet, punning on foil as weapon and as mirror image. Jesus claimed that the greatest commandment is to love God, and the second, "like it," to love neighbor as self (Mark 12:28-31; Matthew 22:34-40). One’s neighbor may be a sort of concrete local manifestation of God, “the least of these,” or of transcendence and mystery. To love neighbor as self, it helps to look with compassion, willing and able to see oneself in one’s neighbor, and one's neighbor in oneself. But how might Hamlet see his image in Laertes? How might we? Consider seven ways, the last of which Hamlet may recognize only too late: 1. Both have fathers unjustly killed, and both are inclined toward revenge. 2.

HAMLET AS PRODIGAL (OEDIPAL SPELLED BADLY) OEDIPAL [1]: Freud claimed that men want to kill their fathers and possess their mothers, like Oedipus, whose father (Laius) was in fact a jerk. Laius made bad karma, abandoning his son to die.[2] - Oedipus doesn't know he was saved and adopted, so he thinks the prophecy means he will kill his adoptive father and marry his adoptive mother. He doesn't want that, so he flees. - While fleeing, his biological father is cruel to him on the road, and Oedipus kills him, not knowing it is his father. - Having suffered trauma as a child, Oedipus may be lashing out in revenge at a stranger who happens to be his father. All fathers die, most before their sons. But the tale is also a metaphor for how children need to establish their own identities as distinct from their parents (though some sons may "want a girl / just like the girl / that married dear old Dad," as the song says.[3]) We can follow Freud and read Hamlet as Oedipal. PRODIG

On Instagram, botanicalshakespeare (whose posts I love) reminds us recently of the change in calendar required by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, which meant that on what would have been October 5, continental Europe leaped ahead by 10 days, making it, instead, October 15. Shakespeare may have had this in mind (among many other things, like incest, usurpation, murder and corruption) when he decided to have Hamlet say, “The time is out of joint” (1.5) botanicalshakespeare notes: "…or at least it was in 1582 when the pontifical states switched calendars -from Julian to Gregorian (not Gregory I of chanting fame, this is Pope Gregory XIII) - and skipped ahead 10 days… but England decided to keep those extra days for a while 😉 — till 1752!" This might be fodder for some who insist that Shakespeare was Catholic, and who might claim that a Catholic Shakespeare may have supported the "fixing" of an out-of-joint time by making Protestant England Catholic again. But in fact, th

"...'Every man by nature is and ought to be his own friend'. Whereas the excessive love of self is in reality the source to each man of all offenses; for the lover is blinded about the beloved, so that he judges wrongly of the just, the good, and the honorable, and thinks that he ought always to prefer himself to the truth." - Plato Laws, c. 360 B.C.E Consider using this as context and historical background for the advice of Polonius to his son Laertes in Shakespeare's Hamlet: "This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day. Thou canst not then be false to any man." (1.3.84-86) Polonius also seems narcissistic and miserly, advising his son, "Neither a borrower nor a lender be..." (1.3.81), and having learned that Ophelia has been "most free and bounteous" of her time spent with Hamlet (1.3.101-2), urges that she should "tender" herself "more dearly" (1.3.116), or in other words,

As it appears in Hamlet, the poisoned cup is not the same as some examples mentioned in my last post: Although these can shed light, Claudius and Laertes use deception, concealing their poisons. This is an important key. This is not the case with Socrates, nor with Sophonisba (suicides). Deception is an element involved in the gift of the Trojan Horse and the attempted poisoning of Merlin, St. John, and Theseus. For John Knox, Catholic Eucharist was also (in his mind) a kind of deception as well as a poison [1]. For John Knox, Catholic Eucharist was also (in his mind) a kind of deception as well as a poison [1]. The poisoned cup of Claudius can be viewed as a profound violation of the hospitality it appears to embody. As such, the deception of a seeming gift or gesture of hospitality is itself poisonous. This is important in light of the recurring theme of hospitality that runs through Hamlet: - Sometimes hospitality is neglected, as in the Lazarus-Rich Man allusion (by the Ghost) [2

Today, “poison cup” can be a way to describe having been given a task that may be one’s undoing [1]. But what was the history of “poison cup” in Shakespeare’s time? These are words found in Shakespeare's Macbeth (1.7), but a plot idea used earlier in his Hamlet. "Poisoned cup" is related to "Trojan horse": looks like a gift, but will bring doom. A poisoned cup brought death for Socrates (state-ordered suicide). Scottish reformer John Knox (1514-1572) said that one (Catholic) Mass is worse than a cup of poison in Protestant-Catholic transubstantiation debates, the phrase an example of anti-Catholic polemics. In fact, it's even older: In a legend told by St. Isidore (c. 560 – 636), St. John (of Patmos) the Apostle had an encounter with a poisoned cup of wine, and (miraculously?) survived, perhaps warned of poison by a serpent. In Greek mythology and Hebrew scripture: The rod of Asclepius, associated with healing, features a snake, and Asclepius' daughter H

I have a long list of topics to cover related to Shakespeare and Hamlet in coming months, including another book review, a few reviews of Minnesota Shakespeare productions, and new series or two... But for now, it's nice to stumble upon a Hamlet joke or two every now and then! Three Hamlet Jokes on X (formerly Twitter) with references to lines or key words in the play: Benedict Nelson: Woman on radio 4 was just talking about her dog, ‘Hamlet’ and I said “presumably a Great Dane”, [1] and got nothing from my family. Not even a smirk. jack furness (reply): they've obviously lost all their mirth [2] Richard Gillin (reply): When I say that sort of thing they just tell me I’m a pain in the arras.[3] NOTES: [1] See Hamlet in graveyard (5.1), "It is I, Hamlet the Dane!" [2] See Hamlet in 2.2, "I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my mirth..." [3] See 3.4, Polonius hides behind the arras, cries out; Hamlet says, "A rat!" and stabs the uns

I own both a paperback edition and a kindle edition of Michael Brett's book of poems, Tomorrow It Will All Run Backwards - Modern War Poetry . It is not often that I purchase a second copy of a book I already own to put on my kindle, but I liked this collection of poems so much, I wanted easy access when I travel. The book's subtitle, "Modern War Poetry," is at least in part deceiving. Throughout the book, Brett weaves a spell that includes not only the horrors of war, but also everyday scenes, and moments that span history and continents. This collection transcends easy categorization, but is also profoundly moving, imaginative, and thought-provoking, filled with tricks of wordplay that seem simple on the surface but release their energy and insights like depth charges. The book is divided into three sections: 1. Easdale Island By Oban, Argyll, Scotland 1974-80 2. The Information Centre of Bosnia-Herzegovina, London 1990-5 3. London 2000-2015 The collection include

Peter Milward (1925-2017) makes an interesting point about the growth of academic jargon ("gobbledygook") in scholarly writing. Milward is the author of Biblical Influences in Shakespeare's Great Tragedies (1987), which is helpful in some ways that similar books by other authors sometimes are not. The following quote is from Milward's review of a book by Gillian Wood (whose work I've enjoyed), Shakespeare's Unreformed Fictions: ...maybe she is content, or her publisher is content, with a readership of like-minded scholars as being (in Milton’s words) a ‘fit audience, though but few’. All too evidently, she likes to puzzle or muddle the general reader with such phrases as ‘characterological interiority’ (p. 129), ‘disjunctions in the drama’s representational logic’ (p. 170), ‘the ontological confusion inherent in the moment of animation’ (p. 181), and ‘the axiomatic knowledge of the binary distinction’ (p. 201). Admittedly, these phrases make more sense in thei