I think , had he known what you advocate, that he would have found the preceding notion somewhat more ‘curious’, than you found the results of his work ‘curiously’ helpful.

quote: “Do you buy that notion Flatter has about pauses and short lines?”

It’s a well known fact that as Shakespeare became a more accomplished Dramatist, the incidence of caesura shows a marked increase-his work becomes less versified and more conversational. And the ’short’ lines can be headless, tailless, or provide an opportunity for “… some necessary Question of the Play [to] be then to be considered.” (F1 Hamlet) This holds true, as far as an explanation for their employment goes, for 11 beat lines– commonly referred to as those with ‘weak’ or ‘feminine’ endings–Shakespeare used more than any other known dramatist of the 1580s & 90s; alexandrines, and what I affectionately refer to, passed on to me by a wonderful instructor/director in my training, as “fourteeners”. WS employed all of these as catalytic tools in coloring characterization, emotion, and dramatic tension and interaction.

Of course, literary scholars must always find a way to emend (translation=’correct’) Shakespeare, leaving a double-edged opportunity for them to elevate themselves while placing Shakespeare under the heel of the foot they use to ascend to the pedestal. They’ve been at it since that self-proclaimed genius (read, egotist) Alexander Pope thought he knew better than Shakespeare himself, what Shakespeare “didn’t intend” or “couldn’t have known”.

Do you seriously suppose that Shakespeare was that “Bad” at writing verse, and was the literary bumpkin–tripping over himself at every turn in his attempt to employ verse–that Pope made him out to be? Or can you not recognize the real genius when you see (or read) one? Even Ben Jonson was left no choice but to qualify his censure of Shakespeare as a ‘non-scholar’, admitting that his genius was of a “different” mystical, or possibly “peculiar”? kind–but so positively alive that he extolled its virtues:

For though the Poets matter, Nature be
His Art doth give the fashion.And,that he Who casts to write a LIVING line,must sweat,
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses anvile; turne the same,
(And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame;
Or for the lawrell, he may gain a scorne,
For a good Poet’s made, as well as borne,
And such were thou.
(“Living” caps mine–all others Jonson’s)

The answer is always–yes, but Jonson said other things not quite as nice.–Yes, but they referred to the technicality of Shakespeare’s “scholarly” ability, which Jonson never accepted.
–Gotta have that sheepskin fella.

“His Art doth give the fashion.”… “a living line”
Either Shakespeare was one of the few truly capable theatrical/literary alchemists in history; a genius at his trade, (WRITING FOR ACTORS IN THE THEATRE) or he was a stupid actor who just happened to “step in it”–over and over and over and over again. If so, what curiously repetitive propitious accidents Fate prescribed for him.

quote: “We need, though, to be cautious in assuming there is a single, correct edition of the plays.”

This goes without saying–doesn’t it?–
–Except, of course, in the cases where the decision is made to have verse and prose reverse roles, finish or adjust every line possible to pristine and “proper” iambic “poetry”, decide exactly who is finishing who’s line–and therefore, thought–reducing true living dialogue to mindless recitation; add–mostly exclamation points– &/or “correct” several thousand punctuation marks; Shakespeare’s decisions, whatever they may have been ( the number of quartos or folios available for choices notwithstanding) unimportant as issues that would inspire investigation relative to the Theatre–Shakespeare’s only goal in the case of the Plays.

And do you suppose that every re-write (aka “emendation”) based in some way on every edit (again, “correction”) that came after Pope (actually after Rowe, who based his on the fourth folio–itself doubtful) and immediately before the latest one, has had no effect on not only the “informed intelligentsia’s” perception, but also on their opinion, of Shakespeare?

quote: “Shakespeare wrote 2,762 short lines (in addition to 4,475 shared lines). Were those missing beats really a cue to mark time on the stage? ”

I think the important question is: Who’s doing the tallying?

quote: “…but I doubt that Shakespeare’s “autograph” was polished enough in its layout…”

So did Pope. Funny thing about “polishing”:too much, too hard, too often, and you remove the surface, rendering the treasured item simply old and worthless.
It seems clear that you only accept the status quo interpretations of what Shakespeare IS. And they’ve seriously confused the issue over centuries of literal literary interpretation–changing rules he never observed , because they didn’t exist! –to the point where the sterility of the Shakespeare they offer to us, with layer upon layer of “corrections”, disallows further understanding because, in addition, they employ the wrong vehicle in attempts to communicate it.

quote: “The kids tend to read “Romeo and Juliet at age 14, “Julius Caesar” at age 15, and “Macbeth” (or sometimes “Hamlet” or “Othello”) at age 17. If they read a comedy at all, it tends to be “Midsummer Night’s Dream” or “The Merchant of Venice.” Filling three spots would cause little disruption and might even spring open the curriculum a bit to allow a wider experience.”

Let’s see…three spots…remove Shakespeare from all three….disruption–little…carry the one…
A “WIDER” experience? Are you suggesting they don’t get into Shakespeare at all? If so, how does one involved in “translating” an author summarily dismiss him from an entire curriculum? That certainly wouldn’t happen in the situation of a true “translation”–otherwise, why translate the author’s work?

Come to think of it…where does that leave your ‘translations’? Or…?…yes, where does that leave them?

quote: “We include him because he is our greatest artist and of historical importance to understanding the development of the literature that preceded and followed him.”

We “Include” Him –I take it the inclusion might simply be based upon the fact that he’s already famous– and so therefore he must be included–the “greatest artist” thing probably deserves the quotes I just gave it. Is That ALL We do? And is that the only reason for his “inclusion”–so that we might understand Other literature and its historical development? –Who is “we”?

quote: “Shakespeare missing from live theater would leave a gap to wide to even imagine. He is still the most performed dramatist, even in places that never hear him in English.(That’s right. It’s not his particular brand of English that accounts for his popularity–”

One hand (supposedly) giveth; the other (definitely) taketh away. Dismiss him from the curriculum–no problem; how do you suppose that might affect the theatre?

Of course he had a plan. One which, with experience and confirmation, he got better and better at formulating and executing. The denial of his ability to “autograph”, in addition to the list of some of the statements that offer “logical” reasons for his supplantation, does no more to convince me that the idea deserves dismissal any more than it would convince John Barton, or Sir Peter Hall, or Ronald Watkins, or Granville-Barker, or Ian Mckellen, or Judy Dench, or Ian Holm, or…the list is too long– those who have had decades of unquestionably successful first hand experience teaching, directing, and/or employing first hand, ON A STAGE, OUT LOUD, some of their techniques fully based upon the very ideas of Flatter’s (and many like ideas of others) which you dismiss as merely “interesting”. I don’t suppose they got into the Shakespeare thing cuz it wuz to hard and boreing. But in fact, many of them did think so–like I once did–until they took the time to look more closely. It wasn’t a copy of “Sparks Notes” or “Shakespeare for Dummies”or (a big competitor in your line, I’d suppose) “Shakespeare Made Easy” that guided me in that direction.

I realize that the directness of some of what I’ve written might strike one as abrupt; maybe somewhat discourteous. But as I tell my students, a thought is a thing–it lives not in the brain but in the belly–until you open your mouth and say it Out Loud,its importance can be easily dismissed–leading to a very serious case of Heart–Burn.

As a favorite teacher/author of mine says…”We speak ourselves into consciousness.” And I am conscious that Shakespeare’s importance transcends the page. His thoughts are things, his philosophy touches branches of the discipline that weren’t even defined at the time; he expresses emotion in his own “peculiar” way, and inextricably connected to that emotional expressiveness, is a command of his words–HIS WORDS–an incredibly enlightening, freeing, and empowering experience. The ability lies at the very root of an ability to express oneself. And if there’s one thing we need lessons in today, it’s in how to communicate–how to say it Out Loud.

It’s not easy–it takes a little work. But if you can do his stuff, you can do any thing remotely related. My students–they run the gamut, grade school to professional– whatever age or rank, they tell me it’s worth it. I have a tendency to believe them as opposed to someone with an axe to grind.

“Words, words, words.” -Hamlet (–one of those “troublesome,’ incomplete’ ” lines) As you can see, I’ve been listening–to all of your words–just like I listen to all of Shakespeare’s words. You would take away not only his ‘troublesome’ words,– you would take away all of them.
My question stands unanswered.

Curiously, I saw Flatter’s book as a tool for helping me procede with translation.

Flatter’s book was interesting, but I doubt that Shakespeare’s “autograph” was polished enough in its layout to give us much confidence in some of Flatter’s conclusions. I understand the RSC’s logic for using the First Folio. We need, though, to be cautious in assuming there is a single, correct edition of the plays. Even if we someday find copies of the plays in Shakespeare’s hand, we still can argue about what actually happened on the stage.

Do you buy that notion Flatter has about pauses and short lines? Flatter seems to think that the beat in each missing foot works as some sort of stage direction. Shakespeare wrote 2,762 short lines (in addition to 4,475 shared lines). Were those missing beats really a cue to mark time on the stage? Pretty unlikely if you ask me.

And I have read good translations of Moliere, Chekhov, Ibsen, and Sophocles. It is silly to deny that such things exist.

Yes, and in fact, Dr. Flatter illustrates this point as it ‘translates’ (forgive) to scholarly editing in his book, “Shakespeare’s Producing Hand” , with voluminous examples from Ford, Fletcher, Jonson, etc., and why this is particularly important when it comes to Shakespeare. As he proves, contrary to all other writers of plays in his time, the dynamics of dramatics, not the correctness of the versification, were what concerned Shakespeare the most, and Flatter gives full credence to the Bard as actor/producer first. His work has, I believe, partly led to a major shift in attitude about the First Folio as Play Text vs. Literary Fossil. Flatter bows to F1 whenever it makes more sense to do so ( a great deal of the time). Jonathan Bates edited the RSC’s fairly recent publication of the complete works using F1 as the control text whenever possible.

“You also assume that any translation will be sterile. Why would the translations be this way when they have Shakespeare to guide them? Are translations of Moliere, Chekov, Ibsen, and Sophocles sterile and colloquial? No they are quite good.”

In my experience as an actor and director I have come across very few good translations of Moliere, Chekhov, Ibsen, and Sophocles. Most are done by scholars who attempt to do a literal translation or attempt to keep a meter in the text for the classical pieces, but fail to retain the imagery, poetry, or comprehensibility of the text, rendering them sterile.

I don’t think that comparing translations from French, Russian, or Greek into English are great comparisons for talking about “translating” Shakespeare. The average, modern, english-speaking audience watching a play in Greek will understand none of it while they will understand, as stated before, most of Shakespeare’s words.

Hoisting the ‘fact’ that “we already do have both” to a position of legitimacy simply because you have, or anyone else has, written them is the crux of the dilemma, and doesn’t address what that fact might truly mean:
That you might eliminate the need, reward, wealth, and most importantly, the worthiness of studying SHAKESPEARE AS HE IS.
Certainly, from all you’ve said in the negative about “Shakespeare”, supplantation–at least for the ‘un-scholarly’– would be the logical result.

As I have asked of someone who writes versions in modern language for students: When do you, or do you at all, advocate to those who would be your patrons and/or customers, that they eschew your versions and begin to investigate SHAKESPEARE?
So far, he has chosen not to answer the question.

Are there any serious provisos, emphasizing what I have mentioned, attached to your work in this regard?

You also assume that any translation will be sterile. Why would the translations be this way when they have Shakespeare to guide them? Are translations of Moliere, Chekov, Ibsen, and Sophocles sterile and colloquial? No they are quite good.

And don’t underestimate those groundlings. They were 400 years closer to that dialect than any of us are and heard it everyday of their lives. They would have had a much stronger intuitive sense of when Shakespeare was being difficult or unusual or when a character was being boring. We no longer have a strong feel for that dialect. Without help from a teacher, actor, or annotation, we don’t know that Polonius is boring. And not one in a thousand people knows what “see thou character” means no matter how helpful the preceding line is. That is why it is always glossed in the friendlier editions. Our level of comprehension is much, much lower than a groundling’s, even one hard of hearing.

quote:

“The vocabulary of a language does not consist of words alone, for we all recognize that words often combine to form stable, oft-repeated phrases that express a single concept.”

Taken in the context of performing him, I once again agree–but

Remove those rhythms associated with the colloquial, colorful, and connatural; callously kiss concordant character calumniously.

It’s the actor’s charge to transMIT, not transLATE,to the audience the sense of “See thou Character”. The prefatory line, “And these few Precepts in thy memory” clearly sets it up–enough,though it be mere ‘gist’– and what follows is clearly an admonition thought to be important enough to set up the ‘harangue’ ‘characteristic’ of Polonius.

Admittedly, the audience will not, by any means, understand the text as well as if it were being spoken in meticulously translated form in a sterile colloquial fashion by the next door neighbor. But seriously, who the heck would want to take the time to investigate that rendition anyway? It’s…BOOOOORING.

I think it’s important to note that upwards of 700 groundlings in the yard of the Globe would have also had trouble with some of Shakespeare’s “phraseology”, as well as with his penchant for the functional shift, no less jarring to the ear than are words heard for the first time.

My first impulse when someone utters a word unknown to me, is to find out what the heck THAT MEANS. The curiosity of first through fifth graders in the same regard tells me well enough, that to throw water on that Fire by speaking in ‘another language’ –other than as a simple means of on the spot definition– is to remove an opportunity for learning. A language worth learning, as with anything worth learning, is best begun at the earliest age possible. But, as you’ve said, “What’s the rush?”

I get the feeling that we might discuss this until…the proverbial…and never come to any further agreement. Anyway, Shakespeare is for DOING. It’s only then that we might truly understand him. Any ’short cuts’ to ‘understanding’ and “the road less traveled” becomes o’ergrown with weeds. Soon there’s no road there at all.

So I think it may well be to the point to once again ask the question I’ve asked others : What happens to SHAKESPEARE? Shall we take the time it takes to become aware that he is worth investigating? Or shall he be ‘translated’ into obscurity? If the latter, What’s the Rush?

Crystal’s argument is that only a small fraction of the words Shakespeare’s uses (about 10%) are unfamiliar to us. And in any extended passage, that number will obviously be lower. Reading comprehension studies show that if we can keep the number of unfamiliar words below 2-3%, then we have enough context to handle a passage without too much frustration.

Of course, many Shakespeare passages at first glance fall within the acceptable range, but because Shakespeare’s variety of English is so distant from us, other complications are at work. Crystal, it seems, ignores or underestimates these. Here is an excerpt from a paper I gave at NCTE a couple of years ago that explains why these difficulties make listening to or reading Shakespeare a slow, frustrating process.

Teachers often warn students about “false friends”—words that we recognize but are used differently by Shakespeare. One common “false friend” is the word “want.” When Romeo says “A thousand times the worse, to want thy light,” he is not saying it is bad to desire Juliet; he fears living without her. Another false friend betrays us when Juliet says,

O, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Readers spot the word “wherefore” and think they have a friend because the “where” part seems familiar. But Juliet is not asking “Where are you, Romeo?” She knows where he lives. She is asking why her true love has to be Romeo, an enemy. Misled by this false friend, inexperienced theatergoers see Juliet as a dreamy, lovesick adolescent when in fact her first thoughts go directly to the source of her conflict—the hatred between their families.

False friends are so common in Shakespeare that even counting them is a challenge. As a translator, I have learned that no friend can be trusted. What about Polonius’ admonition to “see thou character.” Can you trust “see” and “character?” Better not. It means something like “carefully write this.”

The slipperiest problem is what I call strange partners.

The vocabulary of a language does not consist of words alone, for we all recognize that words often combine to form stable, oft-repeated phrases that express a single concept. Shakespeare contributed many of these “figures of speech” to the English language. When we say someone “vanished into thin air” or “is tongue-tied,” we are quoting Shakespeare. But Shakespeare also used countless expressions that have not survived. Even a careful reader may not pick up that Sampson’s “we’ll not carry coals” means “suffer humiliation patiently” or that “draw your neck out of collar” probably means “avoid a hanging.”

Obviously, Shakespeare loved such colorful phrasing, and they both delight and challenge us today. But Shakespeare also made heavy use of a more restricted kind of word partnership, one that linguists call “a lexical phrase.” A lexical phrase is a “frozen” stretch of language that can be used as a piece of a sentence. Shakespeare made constant use of lexical phrases, a good many of them now centuries out of fashion. Some examples are “in fine” (=to conclude), “make that good” (=explain that), “say’st me so” (=you don’t mean that), “by mine honest” (=truly), and hundreds more. Naturally, our understanding suffers because these phrases are essential for linking ideas and showing speaker attitude.

So what is a strange partner? Strange partners occur when words sound odd when used together. Shakespeare is difficult today partly because many of his partnerships seem strange. The word “great,” for instance, takes on unexpected partners in Shakespeare’s plays: great persuasion, great preservation, great of birth, a great natural, great leaves fall, great creation, great prediction, and great aspect. Strange partners complicate our ability to determine which sense of the word Shakespeare intended. When he used great, did he mean gigantic, large, extensive, plentiful, high-ranking, extraordinary, chief, or main?

These partnerships, often called collocations, are certainly a messy part of language—no dictionary can hope to list them all—but they may be essential to speedy processing of speech by making much of what we say more predictable.

Take, for example, what you know about the word “evidence.” The noun “evidence” partners with the noun “piece” as in “a piece of evidence,” with verbs such as present, collect, find, hear, and provide, and adjectives such as convincing, damaging, incriminating, strong, and anecdotal. The sentence “She presented several pieces of convincing evidence” sounds quite natural to us and we can quickly process it. But what if I said it this way: “She transmitted multiple slices of inducing evidence.” The sentence seems creative, but it also takes us much, much longer to process and think about what it might mean. Shakespeare’s language is so loaded with strange partners that our comprehension is greatly impeded and slowed down even if we know the meanings of the individual words.

I originally framed this paper as a response to an interview Crystal had given, but due to time limitations I cut that part out, including this line: “The more you know about Shakespeare’s language, the less qualifed you become to judge its difficulty.”