Shakespeare’s Kings or how to understand the war of roses over a hollow crown

The War of the Roses
The War of the Roses

If you live in the U.K. I bet you are well aware that the award winning series “The Hollow Crown” part 2 The War of the Roses” is being telecast right about now. If you are not aware this may help explain why all of the young girls are giggling and staying home; Benedict Cumberbatch is playing Ricard III.

This production is a series of some of Shakespeare’s English history plays. In chronological order of setting, these are: Richard II, Henry IV Parts I and II, Henry V, Henry VI Parts I, II and III, Richard III. But if we look at the order of when they were written we see that Shakespeare may not have had a series in mind.

Henry VI part II 1590

Henry VI part III 1590

Henry VI part I   1591

Richard III          1592

Richard II           1595

Henry IV part I  1597

Henry IV part II 1597

Henry V               1598

Looking at the order above, we may wonder just what it was Shakespeare had in mind. But if we keep in mind that his primary focus was the stage, not history, we can guess that for Shakespeare the story was thing. Knowing that Henry VI part II was written first it seems to me (and this is just an educated guess) that Shakespeare wrote the plays in response to current events or in order that he found the subject matter fascinating, maybe a little of both.

Thankfully for modern audiences the plays are presented in chronological order. I say thankfully because at times they can be hard to follow, especially the Henry VI plays. I cannot imagine trying to piece the narrative together if I had to watch them in order that they were written. But to be completely honest for many Americans Shakespeare’s history plays are hard to follow no matter the order. Here’s the rub; as much as we may adore Shakespeare’s work, his history is not our history. We don’t study English history unless we seek it out in college or become armchair historians. Many of the characters and events depicted in the history plays are all we have to go on. For many these plays represent our first window view into medieval England. But the window is cloudy and at times we are unsure of what we are seeing.

I was an armchair historian before I went back to school. I fell in love with the medieval Europe and as an undergrad studied the period in which the Catholic Church became the center of politics. Even so, I had questions the first time I saw Richard II. Why was he so hated? Why was it so easy for Henry Bolingbroke to take the crown? Who were all the players in the Henry VI series and more importantly, was Shakespeare true to history?

Now with renewed interest in the Hollow Crown series, I decided it was time to do some reading.

Touchstone Press  1990
Touchstone Press
1999

I’ve had John Julius Norwich’s book “Shakespeare’s Kings” on my bookshelf for about a year. I picked it up last week in the hopes that it would answer some of my questions and further my education on medieval kings. I wish I had read it earlier.

Norwich’s book could easily be a guide to the Hollow Crown series. Norwich begins his book not with Richard II but with Edward III, a play that some earlier scholars argued that Shakespeare helped write. Today’s scholars are slowly coming to the same conclusion, though I remain unconvinced. The prose seems sloppy and lacking in depth. Yet the inclusion of Edward assists Norwich as he attempts to paint on a broad canvass. Edward is the jumping off point to Richard’s reign as King and helps explain why it is Richard was such a disappointment.

Norwich is a fine narrator. His retelling of history is engaging and informative. As a historian he does not fall into the easy trap of extrapolating facts to fit his idea of history or seeks to understand it in modern context. I was sucked into the each King’s story and never once questioned Norwich’s conclusions (he has none) or questioned his motive. This is a clean narrative and a history book that is exactly what it claims to be; a historical look at some of Shakespeare’s kings. It is rare to find such a book now days.

Norwich lays out the historical events that shape each play, one by one. Each King is then subjected to Norwich’s summary of the play in question. He breaks them down act-by-act, pointing out inaccuracies and complete fabrication. Like he does with his narrative, Norwich does not judge Shakespeare or act as his chief apologist. Instead, Norwich reminds us that Shakespeare’s focus was on story telling, not lecturing his audience on historical facts. Along the way Norwich explains what source material Shakespeare probably used (I say probably because there was so little to choose from) and how the material shaped his view of Henry V and Richard III.

Reading Norwich’s account of Henry VI’s reign and how it led to the war of the Roses I began to understand why Shakespeare decided to pen three plays on this hapless King. But even so, I was a little disappointed on the liberties Shakespeare takes with historical fact. But then again, I had to remind myself that the more educated of his audience would have had a good understanding of history and would forgive him in order to be entertained. The less educated probably wouldn’t have cared.

Norwich begins with Edward III and ends with Richard III, which encompasses the years 1337 to 1485. This is a lot to take in, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that the book requires a second reading or acts as a reference guide to specific plays. It certainly will remain in arms reach for me as I eagerly await the American premier of The War of the Roses.

 

 

Remembering my childhood years of wonder with Terry Pratchett and The World of Poo

2012 Doubleday
2012
Doubleday

“Vimes looked at the cover. The Title was The World of Poo. Apparently it was by the author of Wee and if Young Sam had one vote for the best book ever written, then it would go to Wee. His enthusiasm was perhaps fanned all the more because a rare imp of mischief in Vimes led him to do all the necessary straining noises.” (T. Pratchett, Snuff)

Have you ever been tricked by a novel? Or should I say, by an author? I am not talking about the kind of trick that we call a twist, or unreliable narrator (I’m sure this has happened to us all) but actually believing something you read in a work of fiction? No? Lucky you. I have, and I am almost ashamed to admit it.

Years ago, right before the invention of the internet, I read William Goldman’s The Princess Bride and was completely bamboozled by the author. If you’ve had the pleasure of reading the book, you probable know where I am going with this, if not, warning, spoiler ahead!

The book is told from an omnipresent narrator who not only knows what is going on everywhere in the book, he (or it, if we want to be politically correct) breaks the fourth wall by talking to the reader. The narrator does this by talking to the reader and admitting this story is an adaptation of S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of Love and High Adventure, a French tale in which Goldman abridges “all the good stuff”. Throughout the book the narrator refers to this tale and remarks where he omitted a chapter or scene. My favorite is a lost chapter devoted to Buttercup and her hats. Goldman does such a fine job of outlining this silly chapter that I was disappointed he did not just include it. Oh how I wanted to read the original story. And this, my friends, is where he got me. There is no original story other than Goldman’s.

At the time, I did not know anyone who read the novel so I couldn’t ask about the original. I tried the library and even a rare book dealer, who it turns out, had no idea what I was talking about. He obviously hadn’t read the book or he would have clued me in. It wasn’t until the early days of the Internet did I find out what a fool I’d been. This was when the Internet consisted mostly of chat rooms. Remember those? I found myself in a book chat room one afternoon, talking about old books and I brought up the subject of the original Princess Bride story. I’m positive everyone in the room who had read the book started laughing in unison. I have to say, I felt really small and gullible when I found out I’d been had.

Now days when a book title is mentioned in a novel, I assume it is a fictional piece (unless of course, I’ve read it). I refuse to be fooled again! So imagine my surprise the other day to find a book at my local library that Terry Pratchett refers to in his novel, Snuff. The book is titled, Miss Felicity Beedle’s The Wonderful World of Poo. I laughed out loud and of course, because it was a Terry Pratchett book, checked it out. Though it’s a children’s book, I encourage everyone to read it.

I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, not being a fan of poo, but curious to read Pratchett’s take on the subject. Was this a book designed to explain our least talked about body function, or was it a silly take on what we do behind closed doors? To the first, not really, to the second, a little bit, but oh, so much more.

Have you ever longed for the days when as a child you viewed the world with wonder and awe? Even more so when you found yourself enthralled with collecting? For me it was rocks. I loved rock hunting, even if it meant just going out behind the house to look for treasures buried between the railroad tracks that ran through our town. I felt so proud when the grownups around me shared my enthusiasm and fussed over me when I showed them the newest “gem” gathered for my rock museum. Yes, I used our garden shed as my museum. Sadly, as much as I was encouraged to collect rocks, only one person was kind enough to buy a ticket. As much as I enjoy hiking in the woods now, and stopping to admire the beauty of nature, I will never recapture the feeling of my younger days when every day was an adventure.

Yet, for the brief amount of time I spent with this book, the memories of those days came flooding back even though our young protagonist, Geoffrey becomes obsessed with collecting poo.

In this book we meet several of Pratchett’s famous characters again, including the King of Gold Sir Harry, a gargoyle, Sybil, and a baby dragon that poops coal.

Grandma said, “I think there might be cake for tea. But first, tell me, what have you been doing today?”

Well, I’ve stared a collection”. He said breathlessly, “and plain Old Humphrey said I could use his old shed for a museum, and he gave me a bucket and spade and a trowel for collecting. And I took Widdler (the dog) to the park, but I forgot my bucket and we met a boy called Louis”.

Geoffrey is visiting his grandmother in the city for the summer and spends his days meeting interesting people and animals, in the hopes of acquiring the greatest collection of poo to be housed in his museum. It sounds like a messy and smelly way to write about a young boy, but Pratchett manages to capture the feeling of awe and wonder that all children feel when given the chance to explore. This is the heart of the book and why it was such a pleasure to read. It is less about what is being collected and more about that short span of time we call childhood innocence. As I read I had to wonder if Pratchett, knowing he did not have much time left, wanted to recapture his youth and poor those feelings into Geoffrey. It was almost heartbreaking to think of this young boy growing up and losing his sense of wonder. In this book we find yet another gift from the great writer; he allows us to be children once again.

The book seems timely, given that our politicians are acting like caged monkeys who spend their days slinging poo at each other. It’s refreshing to read that given the right circumstances, collecting poo can be fun. Leave it to Pratchett to make us care about poo.

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