All's Well That Ends Well, by Will Shakespeare, Reviewed

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How do you go about reviewing a work that must have been described, analysed and generally pulled apart by thousands of readers, writers, scholars and professional reviewers? Well, as I see it, the only thing to do is give a very personal opinion.

Shakespeare is, of course, our national bard, our cultural hero, if we write in English. So, the reviewer better beware if he says anything untoward. But I set myself a target and I'm determined to hit it. The target? As a writer, to read and review at least 52 books this year, all taken from my 'to read' list'. So, you have my motivation.

I have yet to read most of the Bard's work. What I've so far managed has been very good. But I can't say that for All's Well That Ends Well. It reads like an apprentice piece, almost as if it was written by a different author, in fact.

In common with much of his work, Shakespeare took the original plot from Boccaccio's Decameron and embellished it with his own characters and additions. But, for me, he hasn't done his usual magic here. I found much of the text tedious. There was little that made me laugh and a great deal that felt like unnecessary complication. In fact, the play, for me, would have worked much better without a number of the scenes; some of which seemed to have no bearing on the story at all.

Of course, the language is brilliant most of the time, of course the characters are written with the usual sureness of style and genius. But the whole doesn't quite add up to the parts in this one. Naturally, there is the ever present problem for a modern reader that certain references no longer have the meaning they did for the contemporary audience and this means that some of the jokes fall flat. Some of the words used have not been included in the staggering total of new words that Will added to our language and context is then the only clue to their meaning.

I was able to follow the story, the plot, relatively easily. But some of the characters failed to display the qualities they were reported to carry by their fellows. So, I could see no evidence, until the scene where he is hooded and tricked, of Parolles' reported wickedness. He came across as no more a villain than others in the play. Even his diatribe against Lafeu seemed relatively justified in light of the Old Lord's treatment of him. And it was difficult to understand Helena's infatuation for the superficial, opportunist and selfish Bertram.

So, not a play I'm likely to go out of my way to watch, though it's my personal experience that Shakespeare always comes alive when performed, especially by a good ensemble cast. I'm sorry if I've offended or upset the lovers of our national poet, amongst which I count myself, but this one was a disappointment.

Stuart's Daily Word Spot: Sonnet

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Sonnet: noun - a poem of fourteen lines with ten syllables, using various formal rhyme schemes and generally having a single theme.

Shakespeare, of course, famously wrote sonnets and I was tempted to simply quote one of his here. However, I thought, as a writer, I should try the form myself. So, here’s my effort. Let me know what you think, please.

Thanks to Kenneth Weene for the theme that inspired this attempt. (LinkedIn)

Our thoughts and our ideas on paper

Expressed in hope of spreading our beliefs

And by such methods to be the shaper

Of minds that might then reside in reliefs

The like of which they had not yet conceived

In the frenzy of their dull existence

As to ancient lore they had still cleaved

Their instruction offering resistance

To theories so repugnant to their mentors

Who denying truth but selecting lies

Would rather listen to those vile stentors

Basing faith on warped and distorted cries

That worship the notion of truth bereft

Of proofs and make all honesty mere theft

With thanks to Wordweb for its extensive collection of synonyms and to the Penguin Rhyming Dictionary; a veritable compendium of poetic possibilities.

I’m no poet, and this is the best I could do in the 30 minutes I allowed myself for this exercise.

Stuart's Daily Word Spot: Notable, noticeable or noteworthy?

Notable, noticeable or noteworthy?

Notable: adjective - deserving of note, especially because of excellence, value, or importance; remarkable, striking, eminent.

Noticeable: adjective - able to be noticed or observed, perceptible; worthy or deserving notice.

Noteworthy: adjective - worthy of attention, observation, or notice; remarkable.

Another example of English words that are almost synonymous. The differences are subtle, and largely due to usage rather than definition.

Notable is generally used for people or events that are unusual.

Noteworthy is more usually employed to convey a sense of something commendable.

Noticeable, although it can mean the above, is normally applicable to something that is able to be noticed; something that may be quite ordinary but which is brought to prominence by location or context, perhaps.

‘Shakespeare was a notable playwright.’

‘The bravery of the pilots during the Battle of Britain was noteworthy.’

‘It was noticeable that Brian had one brown eye and another of deepest green.’

Pic: Speckled sunlight.

Stuart's Daily Word Spot: Bowdlerize

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Bowdlerize: verb – (Thomas Bowdler (1754–1825) was an English editor, who published an expurgated edition of Shakespeare.); to expurgate a text by removing or altering material considered improper or offensive, emasculate.

Bowdler’s numerous and often silly cuts and edits to Shakespeare have immortalized his name as another word for censorship.

‘It seems some people never learn from history: Bowdler did his best to emasculate and sanitise Shakespeare and produced a laughable piece of work as a result. But others continue in his name and Bowdlerize many works, replacing evocative expletives with meaningless euphemisms and chopping out great chunks of text that fail to fall into their peculiar definition of what is or is not acceptable. Idiots; the lot of them. Perhaps these same folk would like to paint clothes on the numerous wonderful nudes? Certainly, there have been those who added fig leaves to classical Greek sculpture in order that ‘ladies’ would not be offended by the sight of carved genitalia. Such prudishness invariably declares more about the minds of the censors than about those they presume to protect from what they perceive, with their foul interpretations, as offensive or evil.’