We Were Eight Years in Power by Ta-Nehisi Coates (2017)

An article from The Atlantic for each year of the Obama administration.

Book Review: We Were Eight Years in Power embodies my mixed feelings when I hear the name Ta-Nehisi Coates. The first dozen or so times it was being thrown in my face, variations on "even that Coates guy? He thinks Obama's a joke." I didn't enjoy having to simultaneously debate America's favorite intellectual and some random dude's efforts to de-legitimize the first black president. But that's okay, because these eight articles (and even more valuable epilogue) are necessary, educational, and (mostly) riveting; the book's subtitle is "An American Tragedy." In just two books (haven't read his first, yet) and a series of stellar articles in The Atlantic, Ta-Nehisi Coates has become required reading. His insights change how readers see the world, and the next time there's something in the news, something about the Civil War, something from the President, the reader will think about it a little bit differently. Even those who don't agree with everything Coates espouses will still hear his voice saying, "Yeah, but ... ." While he's opening eyes, he's opening minds.

Coates has done much valuable reading and research, but at times the endless statistics and unrelenting litany of racism, discrimination, violence, and other barbarity in his articles becomes numbing (as with some Holocaust literature). Emotional overload. After a while I simply can't assimilate another crime or instance of savagery without saying, "Yes, I'll stipulate that American history consists of horrors piled on horrors, but then what?" As President Obama is quoted: "Yeah, we can talk about this. But what are we going to do?" Coates seemingly enjoys research -- rather than simply including the strongest anecdote or most convincing statistic, he tends to include all of them (most notably in the "Reparations" and "Incarceration" articles). But his greatest strength lies in his insights and analysis, as when he finds inconsistencies in prevailing theories, contradictions in carefully constructed arguments, exposes when politicians are trying to defend the indefensible. Fortunately, We Were Eight Years in Power has many examples of this strength. He destroys the myth that blue-collar whites supported Trump due to economic displacement; deconstructs the national response to the opioid and crack epidemics; identifies black cultural conservatism (what he calls "the organic black conservative tradition"); explains why Obama particularly appealed to white America; and provides a short but devastating contrast of the candidacies of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Coates also notes that not all who voted for the current president are white supremacists, but they all voted for one.

As noted above, although he now regards Obama as "one of the greatest presidents in American history," Coates was not above challenging President Obama: he's "written several blog posts criticizing" him, and records that due to his criticism the Obama camp believed he was the "wrong journalist" to interview the President. But Obama and the author have more in common than Coates will admit: Obama was white America's black president; Coates is white America's black intellectual. Obama was acceptable to white America as long as he didn't act black; so far, Coates has been unable to offend the white reading public. Coates himself raises the question: "Why do white people like what I write?" He provides no answer (someday there should be a book aimed at a black audience). We Were Eight Years in Power is just as accessible as Between the World and Me (maybe more so), just as valuable, and entirely different.  [4★]

The Tragedy of King Lear by William Shakespeare (1603)

An aging king's vanity brings wrack and ruin to his country.

Play Review: King Lear is Shakespeare's play about old age (and ageism), just as he had previously examined sexism (The Taming of the Shrew), racism (Othello), and antisemitism (The Merchant of Venice). Shakespeare, always so far ahead of his time that he's still relevant today -- it's interesting to see how society has changed (and is unchanged) in the last four centuries. A play set in England (for a change), the aged King overconfident in his kingship to the point of arrogance and tyranny. Approaching his dotage or madness, Lear decides to ease the burdens of his duties by dividing his kingdom among his three daughters. But his favorite, Cordelia, the youngest, refuses to flatter him (believing her love should be enough) and is banished. When Lear's most faithful retainer, Kent, speaks in Cordelia's defense, he too is banished. But as the play continues Lear's faithless daughters turn on him. Goneril and Regan seem almost more like wicked stepsisters, but are complex characters and carry the play whenever they're on stage. The parallel for Lear is the also-aging Gloucester and his two sons (yes, sons as well as daughters are untrustworthy). Gloucester also foolishly trusts the child who betrays him (his illegitimate son Edmund) and banishes the faithful child. So the teams are drawn and we have the battle of the filial children, Cordelia and Edgar, against the serpent's teeth of the thankless children, Goneril, Regan, and Edmund. The two daughters just seem like bad seed, using Lear's decaying age and foolish trust against him to take his power and transform him into a homeless king. Edmund, at least, has an understandable motivation in desiring the patrimony a society that punishes the innocent bastard (but not the sinner) would deny him. Unlike Iago trying madly to destroy the Other, Edmund's only goal is to right an unfair world, at least as he sees it. King Lear is a more plotted play than usual, more emotional than psychological. Emotions run high for both characters and audience as both encounter almost endless suffering from start to finish. Extreme suffering, leavened only by periodic black or inappropriate humor, but not all that funny; sardonic is the word I'm looking for here. Again, as we're accustomed in Shakespeare's tragedies, by the end of the play the bodies have piled up and litter the stage. This is more straightforward play than some of the others. King Lear is accessible, less dependent on and susceptible to deep criticism, but more emotionally wrenching and a sad commentary on the perils of aging in an ungrateful world. Rather than appreciate the contributions of our parents and the older generation, we only want them to get out of the way.  [4½★]

Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson (2017)

Seventeen disturbing stories by the author of The Haunting of Hill House and "The Lottery."

Book Review: Dark Tales has some stories that will keep you up at night -- at least they did me. But first a quick origin story (or history lesson) for those obsessed Shirley Jackson fans out there. Despite writing one of the most anthologized stories in history, "The Lottery," and writing loads of other stories to pay the rent, Jackson released only one story collection in her lifetime (originally titled The Lottery or, the Adventures of James Harris), now commonly known as The Lottery and Other Stories. Posthumously, three Jackson story collections have been published: Come Along with Me (1968), Just an Ordinary Day (1996), and Let Me Tell You (2015). The stories in Dark Tales were selected from just these last three collections. Although Penguin says that these are her "scariest stories," it may also serve as something of a "best of" Jackson's later shorter work, since the three previously published collections are considered somewhat sketchy (the last two compendiums may be scraping the bottom of the barrel -- two collections are on my shelf, I'll report back). Now, back to the book. Dark Tales starts strong with four amazing stories. After that, subtle, intelligent, disturbing stories mix with ones that are a little less powerful, as sometimes Jackson telegraphs her endings, being just a little too obvious, though still unsettling. Jackson writes about worlds that are just little off, worlds where we're not in control, worlds that are against us; she writes about worlds that are close enough to be familiar, but just different enough for chills. The unexpected may be expected in Dark Tales. There are stories where paranoia isn't paranoia, where city folk refuse to listen to country folk, even a couple stories reminiscent of "The Lottery." Jackson is is an  expert at the vague, the ambiguous, the suggestive. Dark Tales is an excellent collection, every story worth reading. And reading again.  [4★]

The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice by William Shakespeare (1603)

The great general is brought low as he succumbs to the plots and snares of Iago, and his own tragic flaw.

Play Review: Othello is a psychological battle between two men: the deceitful, devious, and depraved Iago, and the simple, honorable Othello, who suffers the tragic flaw of jealousy. Iago spins his web, falsely manipulating his confederate Roderigo, pouring poison into Othello's ear, entrapping Cassio, exploiting his own wife, all to his own evil ends. Early on, Iago is dismayed that the post of Othello's second-in-command is given to Cassio, and decides to win it for himself through a complicated scheme that ensnares everyone in his plot. The parallel is that he loves position and power as much as Othello loves Desdemona. Othello, though a great general, a "noble Moor," is portrayed as a trusting and simpler man, without the breeding and refinement of the Venetians. As such, even though he has won the true love of aristocratic and beautiful Desdemona, he still feels not quite worthy of her, not quite believing in his good fortune. He feels what others feel, that he is not deserving of her, and this insecurity is his fatal flaw; he can be lead into jealousy by Iago's manufactured hints and signs. Even after Othello has named Iago to Cassio's post, it is too late, by then Iago is caught in his own web. His dupe, Roderigo, has spent his last ducats on jewels he asked Iago to give Desdemona, but Iago has taken them for himself. He cannot have Roderigo carrying tales, and must have Roderigo kill Cassio to tie up loose ends. The play revolves around two key axes. One is the way the scheming Iago manages to sway Othello, intelligent as he is, into believing that the faithful Desdemona is not. The lengthy Scene 3 in Act 3, shows Iago twisting Othello's mind, overcoming each of Othello's objections, slowly painting a picture in Othello's mind of an unfaithful Desdemona entwined with a duplicitous Cassio. That scene is a subtle but brilliant masterpiece of the two men in a mental battle, a struggle that decent and trusting Othello loses to the wily Iago. The other axis is that Iago's utter amorality is almost too much to accept. He has some cause: he believes he was unfairly denied the lieutenantcy, appears to believe that Othello has slept with his wife, and may be in love with Desdemona himself. But his resultant acts are beyond all reason. Why? Although perhaps these motivations might be enough for the deviant Iago, I believe that Shakespeare has to take it the next level. Iago's evil is unrestrained because Othello is a Moor, and as such Iago believes that Othello is unworthy of command, undeserving of Desdemona, and has no right to have any control over the cultured Venetian, Iago. The twin roots of Othello's tragedy stem from his race: a black man in a white world, he feels he doesn't merit his good fortune, and so succumbs to mortal jealousy; a simple soldier he is easy prey to Iago's unreasoning and overwhelming racial hatred, as no one would believe that any man was capable of so much loathing, going to such inexplicable lengths. Othello is a play that works on levels, and although not the central characters, Shakespeare has once again written roles of depth and intelligence for women, in Desdemona and Emilia. Though narrower in focus (so few characters!) than other plays, Othello actually ventures into more profound waters. This is as good a psychological drama as Hamlet (300 years before Freud tried to figure out this stuff). Wow.  [5★]

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare (1600)

The Prince of Denmark ponders his relationship to his dysfunctional family.

Play Review: Hamlet is one of the contenders for the greatest literary work in the English language. Who am I, being bearly literate, to have anything worth saying about it? So, rather than flopping about coming up with a thesis, this review will be just a few of the light bulbs that occurred to me while reading (if I do a re-read, I might try to make something a little more coherent and cohesive). Herewith, a collection of random thoughts: (1) Hamlet, the melancholy Dane, seems less indecisive than he's often made out to be. When we first meet our hero he's in deep mourning for his father and royally irate that within a month of his father's death his beloved queen mother "incestuously" married his sleazy Uncle Claudius ("more than kin and less than kind"), who is now king. Soon, his father's ghost (or is it?) informs Hamlet that Claudius murdered him. Before Hamlet can take revenge as the ghost demands, he must first play detective. Through the well-accepted investigative technique of "play-within-a-play," we learn by Act 3. Sc. 2, that Claudius is the murderer and the ghost a reliable witness (and, Shakespeare is telling us, is Hamlet's father, not some hobgoblin). In Act 3. Sc. 4, Hamlet kills Claudius (or so he thinks). That seems quick and decisive work to me. And if so, would've been a much shorter play.

(2) Having failed to kill Claudius, it takes awhile for things to get going again. Not killing him while eavesdropping on Claudius at his prayers (and remorseful) seems reasonable to me, as Hamlet explains it. It's only right that he hesitate before becoming a vigilante; taking a life should not be done lightly. But when his hesitation is over, bodies drop like flies. Hamlet shows little regret over the death of Polonius, and I believe he suspected that Rosencrantz and Guilderstern were in on the plot for the King of England to murder him, and so is not too broken up when they die. Then poor Ophelia, and again, not as much regret as expected. But then the flood gates open and all hell breaks loose: Mom, Laertes, Claudius. A good day for the undertaker.

(3) Hamlet seems to hate women? He is so Oedipally (Sophocles and Freud would understand) and deeply wounded by his mother's "incestuous" marriage to his uncle ("He that hath killed my king and whored my mother"), that he loses all faith in women and in marriage ("frailty, thy name is woman"). Hamlet says "we will have no more marriage," and has difficulty trusting even his devoted Ophelia. He feigns madness to advance his revenge. Recognizing that Ophelia may become collateral damage in his plot, Hamlet encourages her to go to a nunnery for her own safety ("I must be cruel only to be kind"). But she stays.

(4) Ophelia and Laertes, sister and brother, are Hamlet's doubles in the play. Hamlet feigns madness, and when he kills her father, the frail Ophelia actually does go mad (there is some suggestion that Hamlet's actions too have caused her madness), and mad she dies. Both Hamlet and Laertes are out to revenge their fathers, and both kill the man responsible.

(5) Can we take a moment to look at just how evil is Claudius? He murders his own brother and then, perhaps to cement his rule, marries his murdered brother's wife (which was considered possibly incestuous at the time). He then sends his nephew to England (with R & G) to be murdered. That failing, he convinces the willing Laertes to treacherously murder Hamlet, while Claudius himself (Plan B) will prepare a poison cup for Hamlet to drink. When his wife goes to drink from the poisoned cup, Claudius puts precious little effort into stopping her, despite full opportunity. Evil, thy name is Claudius.

(6) There are two other threads woven throughout the play, the keeping of secrets and eavesdropping to learn those secrets. Many secrets, much eavesdropping. But as Polonius learns, eavesdropping can be a deadly habit.

(7) Can we also take a moment to a look at all there is in this play? Hamlet could've been called Four Funerals and a Wedding. We have three poorly arranged and incomplete funerals (the King, Polonious, Ophelia), and one that is hasty and oddly fancy (Hamlet's by Fortinbras). We also have (pre-play) the hasty wedding of Claudius and Gertrude. But wait, there's more! We have a ghost, many murders and deaths, madness, a play within a play, some great swashing and buckling (in that darn good sword fight), pirates, a Norwegian army, a suicide, cannons, and a penultimate scene in which four corpses litter the stage. Wow, if that's not entertainment I don't know what is.

Hamlet! Good on ya, Shakespeare!  [5★]

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders (2017)

In the midst of civil war, Abraham Lincoln's grief over the death of his child is witnessed by the dead who are still waiting to die.

Book Review: Lincoln in the Bardo in no ordinary book. Imaginative, it's told in different sections: the "factual" commentary of inconsistent historical quotes, which mix actual accounts of Lincoln and his son's death (e.g., Doris Kearns Goodwin) with Saunders' own similarly constructed fictional accounts; the commentary of the long and recently dead (ghosts) in the graveyard, caught between death and rebirth in the "bardo," a sort of Tibetan Buddhist limbo or purgatory; and the diary-like sections of those who observed Lincoln visiting the cemetery and describe his appearance, his actions, his grief. At times it's like history -- at times like a play. Each of the ghosts has an individual story to tell. Although complex at first, after some pages Lincoln in the Bardo becomes accessible; can't imagine listening to this on audio book, though, without at least following along on the page. This is a brilliant book, a tour-de-force, a worthy winner of the Man Booker Prize. It is a post-modern and intellectual take on loss, letting go, grief, acceptance of death, history, how we treat our fellow humans, and most of all, the denial of death. A book of deep empathy that allows both ambiguity and conflicting views. There is insight, intelligence, humor, irony, raunch, understanding, creativity, and even more creativity here. But as is so often the case for me in postmodern writing, there was too little emotional connection (I know many were in tears after reading this book). There were certainly moments: one would have to possess a heart of stone not to be touched by Lincoln's desolate grief for his son. The death of his son allows Lincoln to more fully understand the war and the needs of the nation, the morality of killing and the morality of letting others live their own lives. But I think I should have felt more, been made to feel more, the subject demanded I feel more (George, it's me, not you). Perhaps in trying to understand the intellectual, I forfeited some emotional understanding. Lincoln in the Bardo is certainly worth a revisit, and perhaps having grasped some of it intellectually, I'll be better able to absorb more of it emotionally on a second read. All in all, this was a mixed bag for me: recognizing its quality, the effort, the chance for me to learn and grow from this book, I was missing the feeling, the human sentiment, the connection I wanted.  [3½★]

FilmLit: Doctor Who - The Shakespeare Code (2007)

The Doctor and Martha Jones travel back to London and the Globe Theatre, circa 1599.

Television Review: "The Shakespeare Code" gives the 10th Doctor (David Tennant) and his companion, Martha Jones (in her second appearance) the opportunity to meet William Shakespeare, in all his genius and fame ("no autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me"). This episode from the BBC's Doctor Who Series Three reveals an alien race, the Carrionites, who appear as witches (broomsticks and all) attempting to use the brilliance, or magic, of Shakespeare's words in his famous play Love's Labour's Won, to resurrect their trapped race and take over the Earth. Magic being just another sort of science. Can the Doctor, Martha, and Will stop them? The whole show is too clever by half and way too much fun, while telling an exciting story at the same time! Back to the Future, Freedonia, groundlings, Harry Potter, Bedlam, Elizabeth I, the sonnets' dark lady, echoes of Shakespeare in Love (1998), all get a mention. Marty McFly is used to explain time travel. Allusions, puns, in-jokes abound. Writers have no more fun than bringing Shakespeare into their work; the chance to to put your own spin on the Bard: priceless! Irresistible. Here, Shakespeare is presented much as I see him myself, pure genius, seeing through and understanding all, the wordsmith, a mind for the ages, even immune to the Doctor's psychic ID. For Doctor Who and Shakespeare fans, "The Shakespeare Code" is all just a little bit of heaven here on Earth. All as funny and thought provoking as usual.  🐢