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 What sort of dolt needs to be reminded to read Shakespeare? Whoever those people are, they aren't the type likely to pick up Bloom's ridiculous tome. His insight, as usual, relies upon overdetermining some paradigm of the Good, attaching it to a text, and then conveniently forgetting that aesthetics, particularly his own, are always political, rather than touchstones to some inevitably capitalized Human truth.
Bloom seems to style this book "The Everyperson's Guide to Shakespeare." If, though, he intended to write a book for the "common person," he has included entirely too much scholarly debate and too many references (name-dropping or name-bashing, depending) to other scholars and critics, as these names will mean little or nothing to the general public, and will only serve to confuse the issue. If, however, a more scholarly audience is intended, Bloom should have more carefully referenced his text instead of simply dropping the names in--so that an interested scholar or student could find those works to which he refers. I teach my students in my Freshman Composition classes that knowing one's audience is quite important in the process of writing. As the Distinguished Univeristy Professor of Humanities at Yale University, Bloom ought to know this himself. He seems, however, to have forgotten it in this book.
The writer employs his pen with proleptic zeal about all the plays, but most especially *Hamlet* and the *Henry IV* duo. The characters of Hamlet and Falstaff are whom principally matter, according to Bloom. He even goes so far as to suggest that each character represents some sort of abyss within Shakespeare himself. Iago (and for some reason) Rosalind also get copious ink, but their selves just don't have as much, well, "abyss" as Hamlet and Falstaff. (Perhaps they're not "abysmal" enough?) After all, Hamlet utilizes the cognitive music of "let be" -- and Falstaff has Titanic Wit. Who else can compare? Well, according to our Johnsonian critic, Edmund is an icy nihilist, which may have surprised Edmund because after all nihilists aren't particularly interested in political power but whatever. Iago has mucho abysses of self, so he scores pretty high. He also OVERHEARS HIMSELF THINKING, which is damn important, apparently. Macbeth is really proleptic. Cleopatra is more cognitive than Antony. The problem plays are appropriately rancid -- or, as Bloom would put it, they have a high level of rancidity. The cameo part of Barnardine sends Bloom into orgiastic reverie -- Barnardine is super rancid. Shakespeare in his early career was having an "agon" w / Kit Marlowe. "Agon" must be a bookworm's version of either hissy-fit or outright plagiarism. Now all this gave way to the cognitive, titanic wittiness of Falstaff, Prince of Play, "mortal god of my imaginings", sez Bloom. The critic despises poor Prince Hal, who is having his own agon with the Fat Knight. All this goes on for 50 or so more pages. Now don't ask me what the *Hamlet* chapter was about. I think it was about the rancidity of the Danish court and Hamlet's abysses of self, along with the cognitive music bit, but I'm not really sure. Get the idea? If you can take it, it's all yours, baby. The best thing about the book is its criticisms of career academics who kinda invent stuff about Shakespeare and literature in general in order to get tenure. For that alone, Bloom does deserve two stars. But on the whole, I found the book too . . . rancid.
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Unlike much literary theory, these essays are accessible to all, and contain many good insights. Bloom's thesis, however, is completely overblown. Shakespeare was a great writer. Certainly. The greatest genius ever to write for the stage. Debatable, but a reasonable claim, to be sure. But inventing human personality? Has he not read his Chaucer?
While I share Professor Bloom's resentment for the Scholars of Resentment, I find his work in this book misses the mark. Not so much in the fact that he feels the need to discredit and destory the other readings of Shakespeare that have come before, nor in the fact that his readings are inaccurate (I tend to agree with Bloom that Othello and Desdemona never had sex: read the play don't watch the movie), but that he seems to never make clear who his audience is.
