Apostrophe S

“The Merchant of Venice” isn’t very funny for a comedy. I know, I know, a comedy isn’t defined as being funny, it’s defined as being lighthearted with a happy ending. While the latter is true, the former is challenged by some seriously heavy themes and situations, such as one character very nearly having a pound of flesh cut from his breast.

What I came away from the play remembering the most was the harsh stereotyping of the Jewish villain, Shylock. While he is the villain, and a cruel one at that, the modern reader can’t be entirely without sympathy for him. Shylock tells of his mistreatment at the hands of several of the main characters, who have spit on him and been generally cruel. They berate and belittle Shylock merely for being a Jew, and Shylock seems to be the only character who has a problem with that. So it is no surprise that he lashes out. He even asks in the play that if he is to be treated as a dog, why is everyone surprised when he strikes out like one?

Indeed, Shylock is the only character worth remembering from the play, and aside from the scene where Bassanio chooses the right casket, therefore winning the hand of the fair (and surprisingly spunky) Portia, the only truly memorable scene is when Shylock demands the payment of his bond in the form of a pound of Antonio’s flesh. It’s pretty intense. But of course by the end Shylock is not only legally thwarted, he is stripped of nearly everything he owns and sent away to probably kill himself from shame.

I doubt Shakespeare meant Shylock to be a sympathetic character, as Jews were held in very low regard in England at the time. (Actually, they had been pretty much kicked out.) Over the years, however, it has almost certainly become necessary for productions of the play to imply an acceptable amount of sympathy for Shylock. Otherwise that in-your-face level of anti-semitism probably wouldn’t fly with modern audiences.

But I enjoyed it nonetheless. Shakespeare’s wordplay can be difficult to crack at times, but the payoff is worth it, and I can continue to say I haven’t read any play of Shakespeare I didn’t like. (Although I’m far from having read them all.)

My dad remarked while I was home recently that he didn’t think people still read Shakespeare for pleasure, that it was now solely the domain of secondary and higher education. I can’t say there isn’t some truth to that. Most people who didn’t like being forced to read “Romeo & Juliet” or “Hamlet” in high school probably aren’t going to pick up a paperback of “Twelfth Night” just for the hell of it. At the same time, having been through college, I couldn’t help reverting to Student Mode while I was reading the play, dog-earing notable passages and trying to pick out themes recurring images. It can be dense reading, and it can be daunting when all one remembers is failing quizzes thanks to the prickly plot of “King Lear.” Shame on literature teachers, then, because most of the plays make pretty good reads.

Honestly, I probably enjoy reading Shakespeare more than I do watching it performed. I still need to stop and re-read a lot.

Next book, “Moving Mars” by Greg Bear.

[This article is part of the 26 Books project that I'm doing this year.]