Brain Drain Blog

Posts Tagged ‘William Shakespeare’

The Disintegration and Reclamation of Indigenous Identity in America (from the archives: 12.13.2006)

European settlers, civilized folk with a strong avarice for economic and territorial affluence in the New World, fought a dark and dangerous indigenous people for nearly three centuries after the arrival of renowned explorer Christopher Columbus. Offerings of Indian Territory were extended in an attempt to peacefully divide the land among both races, but the Indians resisted and violent battles ensued. Great American heroes were born out of such battles and yet benevolence prevailed as Americans generously offered gifts of English language and Christian religion to civilize the remaining savages. Unable to achieve the desired effect, the Indians have remained an unresolved problem for America, a country fondly referred to by its thriving citizens as ?land of the free and home of the brave.?

Indigenous history reveals a very different story, one of the invasion and occupation of the Great Turtle Island, genocide of the original island people, and for those few remaining, ethnic cleansing through assimilation. Forced to abandon their native identities and adopt European-American culture, indigenous people have been coerced to submit to an occupying force and are further marginalized by the power of the English language. In both its euphemistic and discriminatory capacity, English has bound Native Americans to a history and identity which is not their own, and in a way their own language could never have betrayed them.

To say these stories possess the dramatic elements of a theatrical production is a valid argument as it has already been demonstrated. The Euro-American version of history, much like Prospero?s narrative in Shakespeare?s The Tempest, offers a triumphant telling of European colonization. As Paul Brown remarks in ??This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?: The Tempest and the Discourse of Colonialism,? Prospero calls to his various listeners ?and invites them to recognize themselves as subjects of his discourse, as beneficiaries of his civil largess? (P. Brown 218). Shakespeare, understanding the usurping power of Europe in America, calls attention to Prospero?s mastery of language as power of ?civility? over ?savagery.? Interestingly, the English language, as used to strip indigenous people of their culture, eventually empowered them to address their oppressors and reclaim what is left of their Native American identity. By recording the struggles they have faced, Indians have elevated themselves far beyond mere ?linguistic subjects of the master language? (P. Brown 220).

Historically, the most powerful linguistic tool employed by expansionists was the euphemistic term “Manifest Destiny.” This concept legitimized American advances into territory already inhabited by Mexicans and American Indians. As Dee Brown describes in Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, “To justify ? breaches of the ?permanent Indian frontier,? the policy makers in Washington invented Manifest Destiny ?The Europeans and all their descendants were ordained by destiny to rule all of America. They were the dominant race? (8). While Americans were purportedly fated by God to expand in the name of their great experiment of liberty, ironically, this liberty was not meant for all people. Indians were rounded up while soldiers ?concentrated them into camps? (D. Brown 7), allowing for American retrieval of Appalachian gold. Brown?s naming of a recognized dominant race indicates the point at which Indians became aware of two choices. They could either fight to retain the freedom of their land or submit to relocation, making way for the American harvest of natural resources with the promise of provisions in return. When Little Crow, chief of the Mdewkanton Santee, toured the rapid developing eastern cities, he ?was convinced that the power of the United States could not be resisted? (D. Brown 9), and yet he was ?determined to oppose any further surrender of their lands? (D. Brown 9). Black Kettle, leader of the Cheyenne, trusted the American offer of provisions as payment for his lands and relocated to ensure tribal survival. Black Kettle was killed on a reservation along side 103 fellow Indians in an attack of betrayal by American soldiers. Manifest Destiny was clearing the way and ?like the antelope and the buffalo, the ranks of the proud Cheyenne were thinning to extinction? (D. Brown 174). By the late 1950?s only the terms had changed. Leonard Peltier, in Prison Writings: My Life is My Sun Dance, describes ?the most feared words in our vocabulary: ?termination? and ?relocation.? ? To us, those words were an assault on our very existence? (Peltier 80), as was the FBI term ?neutralization.?

Another effective tactic employed by American colonists was dysphemism, linguistically painting a damaging picture of indigenous culture. ?Savage? and ?heathen? were common terms associated with Indian people regardless of the observation Christopher Columbus had made, ?So tractable, so peaceable, are these people? (D. Brown 1). During the winter of 1868, ?In his official report of victory over the ?savage butchers? and ?savage bands of cruel marauders,? General Sheridan rejoiced? (D. Brown 169) in what could be considered his own savage slaughter, although he didn?t label himself as such. Placing the words into written military record simply reinforced a long standing stereotype already in place. Still, the lasting effects of his influence are evident in Sheridan?s most famous spoken words, ?The only good Indians I ever saw were dead? (D. Brown 171) which was ?honed into the American aphorism The only good Indian is a dead Indian? (D. Brown 172). Opposition to this type of attack on the Indians proved futile as only victory mattered to the government. When ?white men who had known and liked Black Kettle ? attacked Sheridan?s war policy, ? Sheridan brushed them aside as ? ?aiders and abettors? of savages who murdered without mercy? (D. Brown 170).

Sheridan proved quite influential in popular American belief. This same accusation of ?aiding and abetting? savages was bestowed upon Leonard Peltier more than one hundred years later. He has resided in prison since 1976 with no substantial evidence supporting murder charges for the deaths of two FBI agents at the Pine Ridge Reservation. Considered a political prisoner by many, he is suspected to be the scapegoat for a failed attempt by the FBI to exterminate more Indians, clearing the way to the reservation?s Uranium enriched soil. Former Attorney General and Peltier?s defense attorney, Ramsey Clark, in his preface to Prison Writings: My Life is My Sun Dance says, ?There?s no question but that our own government was generating violence against traditional Indians at Pine Ridge at that time as a means of control and domination, some believe on behalf of energy interests? (Peltier xvii). Peltier himself says, ?I shot only in self defense ? I wasn?t trying to take lives but to save lives ? of a defenseless group of Indian people. That?s the only ?aiding and abetting? I did that day? (Peltier 170). Peltier has become the symbol of ?an Indian who dared to stand up to defend his people? (Peltier 14), his story bearing strong resemblance to early Indian warriors who rallied against oppression for the health and well being of their tribes. For this reason, he and they share the charge of aiding and abetting, although this phrase is no longer as damaging to Peltier as is a new legal term. ?So simple an act by the courts as changing my ?consecutive? sentences to ?concurrent? sentences would give me my freedom? (Peltier 171), a poignant example of bondage through language. Prison guards who attempted to cage Peltier?s spirit as well as his body often used degradation for provocation, talking about ?how stupid and filthy Indian people were, about how ugly our women were and how they had such loose morals, about how our children were ?defectives? and should be rounded up and shot like stray dogs? (Peltier 146). Peltier returned only his strength of silence.

This constant labeling was a large part of the language that Americans insisted was superior as they stripped Indian children of their native tongue. In 1884, Gertrude Simmons Bonnin ?attended White?s Indiana Manual Labor Institute in Wabash, Indiana where she experienced humiliation and insensitive treatment? (Fetterley 532). She would ?actively test the chains which tightly bound [her] individuality like a mummy for burial? (Fetterley 555). Bonnin?s mention of burial is telling as Americans attempted to assimilate the Indian children, a process in which much of their culture became dead to them. In 1953, Peltier attended the Bureau of Indian Affairs boarding school in Wahpeton, North Dakota. He, like Bonnin, was forbidden to speak anything but English without the consequence of a beating. ?Still, we did. We?d sneak behind the building the way kids today sneak out to smoke behind the school, and we?d talk Indian to each other? (Peltier 78). Indian language, the connection it embodied to the Earth and to others, became contraband, criminalized for decades.

During their Americanization, Bonnin and Peltier found themselves ?drawn to both cultures ? spread eagle between them? nearly torn apart by the conflicts and contradictions between the two? (Peltier 79). Claiming his individual identity, Leonard embraced each name he was given. He is prideful of his connection with French fur hunters through Peltier and recognizes Leonard for its meaning of lion-hearted. His Indian names include Wind Chases the Sun, symbolic of freedom, and He Leads the People, a call to action. The Christian and American labels, which can be interpreted as an act of assimilation, are respectfully declined as Peltier says of his indigenous identity, ?I am a native of Great Turtle Island ? Our sacred land is under occupation and we are now all prisoners? (63). Bonnin, in discarding her white American names, gave ?herself her own tribal name, Zitkala-s?, which means Red Bird? (Fetterley 532). This identification provided a solid base from which all other thought flowed for each author.

A?focus on connection?between Indian people is what inspired the English writings of Dee Brown, Leonard Peltier and Zitkala-s?. Dee Brown reached back through the past collecting sources of forgotten oral history to ?fashion a narrative of the conquest of the American West as the victims experienced it, using their own words when possible? (D. Brown xviii). Hoping that these words have not been dulled, Brown explains that ?we rarely know the full power of words, in print or spoken? (D. Brown xvi). The number of books sold is testament to the clarity of the words? sharp truth. Peltier is compelled to join his story with Brown?s history because ?speaking out is my first duty, my first obligation to myself and to my people? (Peltier 9) and ?Only when I identify with my people do I cease being a mere statistic, a meaningless number, and become a human being? (Peltier 43). Peltier, in particular, is most separated from his people behind prison walls. In writing, he is able to break free like Wind Chases the Sun. Combining her award winning mastery of oratory skills stemming from Indian tradition, along with her American English writing skills, Zitkala-s? publishes accounts of her childhood for “Atlantic Monthly”, providing a realistic and softer presentation of Indian family life and criticism of assimilation practices. Her regionalist ?desire to tell Indian legends and stories in an Indian voice ? in written English ? may have created an intolerable opposition to the oral story telling tradition she hoped to ?transplant?? (Fetterley 534). Caught somewhere between Indian and white society, her return to advocacy, or ?life as a reformer may indicate that the price she paid for attaining the language? was the loss of place? (Fetterley 534). Still, her struggle is documented and what culture could be preserved is.

People of indigenous descent have joined in a great discourse with traditional white American history. Their tale, after centuries of struggle, has just recently reached a greater audience with a fairly new possession of writing skills within a much longer history of oral culture. The English language, which originally attempts to bind them, is used to set them free because people, not the language itself, defines cultures as inclusive or other. Through their history, novels and poems, each author extends an invitation to a middle ground with no retaliation for the crimes committed against their people. As Shakespeare?s Prospero eventually learns, ?The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.? (Shakespeare 75, 28)

Works Cited

Shakespeare, William, et al. The Tempest Ed. Gerald Graff and James Phelan. William Shakespeare, The Tempest; A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 10-87

Brown, Paul. ?This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?; The Tempest as the Discourse of Colonialism? William Shakespeare, The Tempest; A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 205-229

Peltier, Leonard. Prison Writings: My Life is My Sun Dance. New York: St. Martins Griffin, 1999.

Fetterly, Judith and Marjorie Pryse, eds. American Women Regionalists 1850-1910. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1995.

Brown, Dee. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2001.

I’m posting this for Michael and Elliot, who recently had me reminiscing about my encounter with black pudding and haggis. I dug through my old flight journal to retrieve this entry, going all the way back to…

June 25, 1999
My First Time in Brighton, UK
Photo caption: How many flight attendants fit in the loo of a 777?

Our crew reached the hotel at a million o?clock in the morning (Eastern Standard Time and otherwise). I had pulled a full shift on no sleep. Visions of a bed with fat pillows raged through my gray matter harder than any sweet sugarplum could. Even if the bed had stupid sheets with stupid paisley patterns in orange and purple to match the stupid curtains, I didn’t care. (There are some hotels that could benefit from the Interior Design Police.) Anything soft that allowed me to get vertical for several hours would suit me fine. It’s not like my eyes would be open long enough to vomit at the decor.

Unfortunately, our hotel wasn’t able to immediately accommodate the crew’s needs. Instead, the apologetic staff offered a three hour wait with a compensatory breakfast buffet. Great. I could eat myself into a food coma with nowhere to pass out.

As the herd of fourteen uniformed zombies gathered around the buffet trough, we half snored and half snorted at the food. I vaguely remember hearing, “Oh look! Black pudding, I’ll have to try that. Traditional English cuisine!”

Pudding can’t be bad, black or otherwise. I took a slab and placed it on my plate. A fellow zombie approached inquiring about the dark cake. Taking a small piece into my mouth, I swirled it around the full surface of my tongue. It was like soggy cardboard cooked in herbs and spices – but not. There was a hint of sweetness to it – but not. It wasn’t too rancid, but it most definitely was NOT good. It lingered over my taste buds like a thick fog. Fog? Frog. No, not frog…

Our International Service Manager appeared to my left, looked at my plate, and spouted, “You’re a brave soul.”

So I replied bravely, “I’ll try anything once.” Just then my sleepy eyes registered the many English folk around the buffet watching with anticipation. I finally asked, “Well, what IS it?”

My ISM, a fabulous prankster, whispered in my ear, “It’s deep fried cow’s blood.”
I laughed, albeit nervously. I felt a look of nearly-nauseous disbelief wash over my face. “You’re such a liar!”

His answer came in the form of a steadfast stare.

I scanned the crowd. Nods of agreement bobbed at me from every angle, reflected in the polished glass of the sneeze guard for double clarification.

“I JUST ATE DEEP FRIED COW’S BLOOD?”

Okay. So what. I didn’t die. I didn’t even puke. I was damn proud of that. I’ve eaten many a strange thing: octopus, squid, eel, oysters, a ham sandwich off a New York City sidewalk, but this was the cake topper.

As if I could prove my audience wrong, I smeared the slab with my fork. Soft, fleshy, red stuff streaked a dark, crimson smudge across my white plate. Not only was it NOT pudding, it wasn’t truly black. A fat clump of clot stuck to the fork.

Now I was ready to hurl. I recognized the residual taste, familiar, metallic, like when I last bit the inside of my cheek. I pictured eating a not-quite-hard scab. The loaf was the consistency of an hour old, coagulated, deep fried flesh wound.

My next move was to find something to mask the flavor. I moved down the buffet and pointed at another dish. I asked the nearest Brit, “What’s this?”

“Haggis.” His tone flashed a smidge of negativity.

“I can read the sign. What’s IN it?” Those nutty English. They turn out a few gems like Monty Python and Fawlty Towers and think they’re funny.

“It’s a Scottish (perhaps he said Irish) dish. It usually has lamb, oatmeal, herbs, spices.”

“Would you put it on your plate?”

“Uh, no.”

I opted for the sausage, eggs, and potatoes with little appetite. No amount of replacement food could erase the horrendous taste. Once we were finally assigned rooms, shots of mouthwash didn’t work either. I couldn’t sleep. I was assaulted by thoughts of some sacrificial, virgin cow being slaughtered to make a loaf of aneurysm.

I found this description from P.G. Wodehouse on Haggis at an internet cafe today:

The fact that I am not a haggis addict is probably due to my having read Shakespeare. It is the same with many Englishmen. There is no doubt that Shakespeare has rather put us off the stuff…. You remember the passage to which I refer? Macbeth happens upon the three witches while they are preparing the evening meal. They are dropping things into the cauldron and chanting “Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog,” and so on, and he immediately recognises the recipe. “How now, you secret, black and midnight haggis,” he cries shuddering.

This has caused misunderstandings and has done an injustice to haggis. Grim as it is, it is not as bad as that– or should not be. What the dish really consists of — or should consist of — is the more intimate parts of a sheep chopped up fine and blended with salt, pepper, nutmeg, onions, oatmeal, and beef suet. But it seems to me that there is a grave danger of the cook going all whimsy and deciding not to stop there. When you reflect that the haggis is served up with a sort of mackintosh round it, concealing its contents, you will readily see that the temptation to play a practical joke on the boys must be almost irresistible. Scotsmen have their merry moods, like all of us, and the thought must occasionally cross the cook’s mind that it would be no end of a lark to shove in a lot of newts and frogs and bats and dogs and then stand in the doorway watching the poor simps wade into them….

Note to self: Never ingest anything without knowing the full goddamn history of it first.

In Act I of “The Tempest,” William Shakespeare paints Prospero as a character who possesses a great deal of power, quite analogous to that of the King of England. Attributing this power to his education in ?liberal arts,? Prospero?s enchanting abilities appear to stem from his study of books, the donning of a magical cloak, and by carrying a magical staff, much as the King?s crown and vestiges, although not powerful themselves, lend to the visual definition of his authority. While each of these items do supply Prospero with the ability to cast spells, it is his ?art? of conversation that affords him the most power.

As Paul Brown remarks in ??This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?: The Tempest and the Discourse of Colonialism,? Prospero calls to his various listeners ?and invites them to recognize themselves as subjects of his discourse, as beneficiaries of his civil largess.? (Brown 218) The technique with which Prospero bestows his ?civil largess? upon his daughter, Miranda, and his servant, Ariel, varies in degree of applied patience, yet it conclusively achieves the desired effect as each bend to his will. While Caliban, Prospero?s slave, offers the vilest resistance, Prospero demands compliance by employing the use of painful threats, only occasionally requiring additional reinforcement through action. Prospero?s command of language, ultimately his most useful tool, influences and manipulates the thoughts, ideas and behaviors of all the play?s participants, including those of the audience.

Miranda?s character is akin to the citizens of England, each governed by the power and guidance of their rulers. Through suggestive conversation, Prospero educates Miranda on the subject of their history, molding her perspective to ready her for a future orchestration of events. As he begins the tale, Prospero asks Miranda to, ??pluck my magic garment from me. So, [laying down his magic cloak and staff] Lie there my art.? (Shakespeare 14, 24) Here Prospero engages in conversation exclusively, making a point to shed all other forms of power. With this simple action, Shakespeare demonstrates the innate power of Prospero?s persuasion and how it is used to educate and thus govern Miranda with the provision of a singular perspective. This directly reflects England?s own normative view as colonizer, enforcing the belief that English culture is superior both within and beyond the country?s borders.

Prospero takes pride in his ability to educate. He speaks passionately of this role in regard to Miranda, ?Here have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit than other princess? can, that have more time for vainer hours and tutors not so careful.? (Shakespeare 19, 171) Prospero has been grooming Miranda to be obedient all her life, and she, a naive student, exclaims, ?Heavens thank you for ?t!? (Shakespeare 20, 175) In his technique of reinforcing his daughter?s loyalty and attention by repeatedly asking, ?Dost thou attend me?? (Shakespeare 16, 78) requires Miranda to engage in the dialogue and actively confirm, ?Your tale, sir, would cure deafness,? (Shakespeare 17, 107) In this way, Miranda reflects the desired perspective as it is presented to her, satisfying Prospero?s need for loyalty and support in his plot to resume his dukedom. As Brown explains, ?A major strategy of this scheme is to engineer another courtship between Miranda and the son of his enemy ? his daughter having been duly educated for such a role.? (Brown 219) In grooming Miranda to marry Ferdinand, Prospero intends to place her like a pawn among royalty, ensuring his ties to political authority.

In Ariel, Prospero?s servant, Shakespeare depicts an English colonizer, one sympathetic toward the American Indians. Ariel proves useful in forging a foundation for Prospero?s new world order but must be commanded to continue in the face of unpleasant tasks, particularly those he believes will cause harm. Applying the approach used with Miranda, Prospero begins to question ?Dost thou forget from what torment I did free thee?? (Shakespeare 22, 250) Ariel challenges that he has not. With this exchange Prospero begins a detailed call and response, ?Hast thou forgot the foul witch Sycorax? Thou hast. Where was she born?? (Shakespeare 23, 261) Recounting this story of how Prospero freed Ariel from the witch?s curse actively recalls the details of Arial?s torment and debt to Prospero for release. Ironically, this freedom from the pine has merely released him into a new form of bondage. (Brown, 220) According to Brown, ?This operation of constant reminding acts as ?symbolic violence.? What is really at issue is the underlining of a power relation.? (Brown 220) Illustrating a bending will, Ariel replies, ?Pardon, master. I will be correspondent to command and do my spriting gently.? (Shakespeare 24) As Ariel submits, Prospero is able to expand his power to that of the spritely realm with Ariel to do his bidding.

Caliban, having occupied the island long before Prospero, represents the idea of ?savage? as it exists within the colonization of Ireland and America. Prospero tries in vain to educate Caliban, to civilize him in the ways in which Prospero is accustomed. Miranda too, as an extension of Prospero, teaches Caliban the language common to her and her father. In regard to this education, Caliban is not grateful for their ?gift,? but rather feels enslaved by it. ?You taught me language and my profit on ?t is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!? (Shakespeare 27, 367) Before the arrival of Prospero and Miranda, Caliban understands his thoughts perfectly well, explaining that they didn?t give him knowledge, but only the means to express what he already knows in a way they understand. He too can understand their demands as they bark orders at him. Brown believes Caliban ?recognizes himself as a linguistic subject of the master language. Caliban?s refusal marks him as obdurate yet he must voice this in a curse in the language of civility … Whatever Caliban does with this gift announces his capture by it.? (Brown 220) In his unwillingness to easily submit, Caliban poses a real challenge for Prospero. While still embracing his mastery over communication, Prospero must change his approach. Keeping the upper hand, he incorporates the use of threats backed by real action, making Caliban submit out of fear.

At the play?s end, as so ordered by Shakespeare, the shipwrecked aristocrats suffer to Prospero?s content, extracting sufficient remorse from their maddened state with no lasting harm dealt by his hand. His daughter, too, is arranged neatly in the arms of King Alonzo?s son, assuring her royal future and his. Ariel is freed for a job well done, and even the stubborn Caliban all too easily sees the light after falling further from grace, accepting Prospero as a more desirable master than Stephano. Each fragment is neatly tied up with one exception. In what way does Shakespeare deal with Prospero?

By educating the island inhabitants as he sees fit, Prospero gets an unforeseen education of his own. During the marriage of Miranda and Ferdinand, Prospero is startled with the realization of his aloneness without her. Fiedler with the idea that Shakespeare ?appears more and more to divest himself of the very power he has so relentlessly sought. … even as Prospero?s game plan succeeds he himself is played out, left without a move as power over his daughter slips away.? (Brown 226) Prospero speaks of this dissolve of power, as well as the erasure of existence when he says, ?We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded in sleep.? (Shakespeare 70, 156) Caliban?s attempt on Prospero?s life leads Prospero to look more closely at his inability to civilize the savage. He raves, ?A Devil, born a Devil, on whose nature nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost!? (Shakespeare 71, 188) And lastly, in an effort of revenge on his brother, Prospero learns compassion, characterized by his epiphany that ?The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.? (Shakespeare 75, 28) Brown believes, ?At the ?close? of the play Prospero is in danger of becoming the other to the narrative declaration of his own project, which is precisely the ambivalent position Caliban occupies.? (Brown 228) and is unsatisfied with how Shakespeare handles Prospero?s abandonment of magical external power with no ?triumph for colonialism? (Brown 228). With this I disagree.

At the time Shakespeare writes “The Tempest,” no societal answers existed in response to the play?s questions. Shakespeare appears to synthesize the culmination of Prospero?s lessons to demonstrate the hope for England of one day being wiser, more accepting of others, and willing to forfeit control where it already exists rather than to attempt the civilization of the world. As the rest of Prospero?s powers fade, his reign over language is not lost. ?Now my charms are all o?erthrown, and what strength I have ?s mine own.? (Shakespeare 86, 1) The power of persuasion has always been an innate part of his being only to fade when Prospero himself expires. He uses his remaining capacity for language to appeal to the audience. He seeks their applause and thus forgiveness for his character flaws. This may also be a plea from Shakespeare himself to forgive weak plot point. The questions raised are left to us, the audience to ponder and answer for ourselves.

Works Cited:

Shakespeare, William, et al. “The Tempest” Ed. Gerald Graff and James Phelan. William Shakespeare, The Tempest; A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 10-87

Brown, Paul. ?This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine?; The Tempest as the Discourse of Colonialism? William Shakespeare, “The Tempest;” A Case Study in Critical Controversy, Boston: Bedford/St. Martin?s, 2000, 205-229

I took my professor’s suggestion, sitting for several hours over the weekend with my copy of “The Tempest” and a pencil. I started back at Act 1, picking most of the descriptive notes from the bottom of the page and transferring them into the text. Reading through once more, with those in place, I made notes about the plot in the margins. As I made my way through Act III, it was obvious that I had learned much along the way. Still, I continued to transfer many of the notes, even if I didn?t think I needed them, because this made the double entendres far more apparent and enjoyable.

The difference between ?getting the gist? and picking up the humorous subtleties brought a whole new dimension to life. The whole interaction about chickens and foul was lost on me the first time through. When seeing a performance, the actors? physical cues and tone help identify Shakespeare?s play on language and the running jokes referenced throughout. In reading, I truly miss the cues. It was good to discover that the more effort I put in, the more I was rewarded with enjoyment. All this talk about Shakespeare being such a drag had me doubting how much I?d like him.

Beyond addressing the language, I did have some questions about what happened between some of the characters. In Act III, scene I, it seemed rather forward of Miranda to ask Ferdinand to marry her. Am I judging from a perspective outside the social norm for the day?

In Scene III, Caliban seems to finally speak without venom when he describes the island and his relationship to it. He talks of the noises that lull him and from what he finds comfort. Why does Shakespeare suddenly give us this new glimpse of the character in alight we?ve never seen and yet in the midst of convincing Stephano to kill Prospero?

Also, is Prospero really as magical as he boasts himself to be? It seems he has a genius mind for orchestrating events, but beyond lulling his daughter to sleep, becoming invisible, and freeing Ariel from the tree, he seems to rely much more on Ariel?s handiwork than his own.

In reading Act I of Shakespeare?s “The Tempest,” Prospero?s character is complex, making him an interesting element to focus on. He orchestrates many of the Act?s events, exhibiting many facets, from deriving great pleasure from his daughter?s smile to how demanding he can be on those who serve him.

While Prospero loses his rightful ruling position over Milan at the hand of his brother and is exiled to an island with his daughter, Miranda, he still seems to hold power, both influential and magical. By way of fate, a ship carries his brother and others near to the island and, through the shear will of Prospero, it is tossed about the sea, caught in a Tempest as reparation for the pains he has suffered. This retribution appears to be warranted, leaving me, the reader, glad for Prospero?s chance to demonstrate to his brother the ways he has suffered. But the question remains, how far will Prospero go? When a distraught Miranda asks the same question and it is revealed that none aboard the ship are physically harmed, Prospero appears to be a fair and just soul.

By enslaving the island?s only native inhabitant, Caliban, the animal-like son of a witch, as well as Ariel, an ethereal sprite he released from the holdings of a curse, Prospero?s duality is revealed. He may be too kind hearted to fully destroy the ship?s men, but he has certainly bound others to serve him with an unrelenting exhibition of power. Where does this fit within the ideals of a man who desires to serve his people and who desires to serve his daughter?s best interests? Perhaps he truly believes he helped Caliban by teaching him to communicate, but he is unwilling to see how he might be usurping Caliban?s rightful place as King of the island. He certainly freed Ariel from the pine tree but, as Ariel fulfills each of Prospero?s requests to repay this debt, he finds yet another request awaiting him.

What do these inconsistencies say about Prospero?s character as a whole? Is he really at such odds with himself, or does the text later reveal what ties these traits together? Perhaps these servants are used to show dedication from an earthly as well as spiritual world as each continues to server Prospero regardless of his brother?s refusal to do so. Even the old wise man Gonzales seems eager to help him by sending him to the island with provisions.