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SHAKSPER 1991: Genre, Satire, *TC*
From: Ken Steele (ksteele@epas.utoronto.ca) Date: 06/03/91
Shakespeare Electronic Conference, Vol. 2, No. 150. Monday, 3 Jun 1991. (1) Date: Fri, 31 May 1991 23:21:50 -0400 From: Steve Urkowitz <surcc@cunyvm.bitnet> Subj: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire (2) Date: Sat, 1 Jun 1991 00:25:06 -0400 From: Steve Urkowitz <surcc@cunyvm.bitnet> Subj: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire (3) Date: Sat, 1 Jun 1991 04:14:00 -0400 From: "George Mosley" <MOSLEY@UNC.BITNET> Subj: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire (1) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 31 May 1991 23:21:50 -0400 From: Steve Urkowitz <surcc@cunyvm.bitnet> Subject: 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire Comment: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire Dear Roy Flannagan, Maybe my attitudes towards the play have been shaped by three brilliant productions I've lucked into and by two critics' analyses. The critics are Anne Barton in her introduction to the play in the Riverside text and, more expansively, Michael Long in a chapter on T&C in his abruptly-taken out-of-print Methuen volume, *The Unnatural Scene*. The BBC-TV/Time-Life video clicks repeatedly for me, and for classes when I show short passages. Then some of us caught the Berliner Ensemble production across the wall during the '86 Berlin World Shakespeare Congress. And last summer at Stratford the RSC's Swan Theatre production. The camped-up version you describe matches a similar production I saw in NYC in the early 70s, the kind that makes you think about switching to some other field, like maybe orthodontia. The drama, and the micro-structure of satire, that drives this piece forward is the anti-climax, what John Clark called the imitation of an unsuccessful sexual act. Right off, Troilus says he's not going to fight in these wars, but then by the end of the scene, abruptly, without explanation, he bolts off to the battles with Aeneas. Another anticlimax: the reappearance of Troilus coming back from the day's combat. Wait 'til you see T! OooH! Wait! You'll be wowed! . . . [then] "What sneaking fellow comes yonder?" The game, I think, is in reader-response education: "What are you led to expect here? And what do you really see?" Anybody who's been in love knows that batty dynamic of ideals crunching into the actual and then rebounding with redoubled strength to even higher insanity. The maniacal energy of a cartoon character feeds these very human Trojans and Greeks. The goal of teaching the piece could be to help ourselves see ourselves driven by the same engines and made ludicrous by the same human limitations. I hate to think of how many faculty meetings resemble those councils in Troy and in the Greek camp. B-o-r-i-n-g, painfully orderly, and totally inconsequential. I particularly like Hector's fabulously anti-climactic decision to go on with the war after he has laid out an elegant and wise justification for NOT continuing. These wrenching defeats, snatched from the very jaws of victory, shape scenes, speeches, incidents. I guess that's what I mean by a systematic structure of satiric action. I have a long walking tour of the T&C text that I sometimes give to classes. If I can strip away the old CPM Perfectwriter commands, and when I master file-sending, I'll ask Ken Steele to load it into the SHAKSPER byteholes. (Before I slink away with my satiric diseases, I want to say that I didn't mean to send two very similar other messages yesterday. I wrote the first, and a big chunk of it seemed to get hung up electronically as I hit PF5, the SEND command. So I wrote the second and sent it, not knowing Mark I lived. Oops.) Heatedly, and a-flap, Yours, Steve Urkowitz SURCC@CUNYVM (2) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 1 Jun 1991 00:25:06 -0400 From: Steve Urkowitz <surcc@cunyvm.bitnet> Subject: 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire Comment: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire Dear George Mosely, The ideas of satires which repeat what they condemn certainly fit Gulliver, and I've ben finding lots of places where Dante finds himself doing to critters in the Inferno exactly the nastiness that they were condemned for: swooning over Paolo and Francesca's excessive passion, tearing the hair out of the wrathful, sneering at the overly proud. Instead of imitating the messenger from Heaven, Dante the character imitates Vergil. In the recent issue of that "Teaching Medieval and Renaissance Literature" journal (it's somewhere on my desk in school) a secondary school teacher reports that her students kept coming up with more and more of those (may we say it) satiric strokes in the Inferno. For T&C, just about all the voices are bent, and the few straight talkers are condemned to being ignored. So much for the power of truth in the world. So we, with Thersites, Falstaff, and Pandarus can dance madly, sure of our lessons and of their inability to be grasped by any save those who can dance with us. Over the rainbow . . . Yours, Urk (SURCC@CUNYVM) (3) -------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 1 Jun 1991 04:14:00 -0400 From: "George Mosley" <MOSLEY@UNC.BITNET> Subject: 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire Comment: Re: SHK 2.0149 *TC*, Genre, Satire For Steve Urkowitz (if I misspell, it is a bad memory only). I would most wholeheartedly agree with the idea that T&C throws a wrench in genre. In terms of genre, satire, *it seems,* always questions, adopts, modifies, and sometimes rejects previous genres. For example, *The Dunciad* (which really isn't such a *funny* satire) depends upon a knowledge of a type of inflated panegyric, and Tale of a Tub depends upon a knowledge of projections, political theory, etc. Yet this dependence doesn't rob any of the pieces of their bite as long as the reader can have access to the same general genre. I suspect that when my students say that Gulliver isn't funny, *and when yours lose interest in T&C,* it may be because the genres which the works question don't seem to have a contemporary counterpart (at least to a naive reader). There are, of course, all kinds of theoretical questions to ask about this, but they're not really to the point. [By the way, I think Clark's book is inescapable: it's still top-notch as far as I can see.] For personal satires (and there really aren't that many which survive that can be called really personal satires), the *types* (to use an antique term) have to exist for the contemporary audience, and those types have to irk the audience. In the 19th century, a Whiggish England didn't find Swift all that funny, and a Romantic age (I suspect) wouldn't find T&C all that good either. For me, it is only when genres compete that a play like T&C becomes a problem. Well, thus spake the novice. I'll go back to watching those more versed in these matters now.
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