Hamlet is the first work I have read by William Shakespeare that I actually understood and enjoyed. Maybe it’s because I was too young in the past to fully comprehend his “one of a kind” diction. In all honesty, my literary comprehension level is probably still not quite high enough to be able to understand all of Shakespeare’s meanings, but I think I’m making progress. Perhaps the real reason is because I should be watching his plays rather than reading them. I’ll have to see how my English teacher feels about replacing our class time with movie time.
There was something about this play that allowed my attention to be held for the duration of reading it. This doesn’t happen often in regards to literary classics, so reading Hamlet was a pleasant surprise. I think it was due to the fact that the play quickly progressed on its route to chaos.
From the very beginning, I adopted a feeling of anticipation for the play to ultimately spiral into madness. And of course, I was not disappointed. In a sense then, I didn’t really feel bad for the characters, as I could tell what was coming. It was as if I simply watched, from a safe distance, as a massive meteor hurled toward the characters, oblivious of their impending doom. It was extraordinarily entertaining. I don’t mean for that to make me sound like an evil supervillain, but let’s face it, we as humans like to watch others fail. How else would you explain America’s Funniest Home Videos? Reading Hamlet was pretty much the same thing, and I loved it.
On a side note, is Shakespeare always like this? If so, I’m heading to the closest bookstore ASAP!