Alex Tabisher writes about how he decided to live above load shedding, corruption, murder, state capture, escaped convicts and the hoo-ha about the artist formerly known as Prince, and not take strain. Picture: David Ritchie/African News Agency
Lately, I have have been indulging myself in re-reading some old favourite texts. I have re-read Macbeth and dabbled in my Collected Works of Oscar Wilde (Collins Edition).
It’s not all academia, but a revisit to the hoary masters who revelled in the glory of the well-turned phrase.
One cannot deny that words are plastic, malleable, versatile, clever, lithe, athletic, mercurial, enigmatic and all the other words one can evoke to describe the utter joy of the art of communication.
From old Mackie, whose name no thespian would pronounce during rehearsal for fear of dire recrimination from this (literally) bloody king, I have gleaned the following: “There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.” (I:4) The words are spoken by Duncan about Macbeth, whose expression doesn’t show any indication of his intention to murder the king that very evening. Commentators claim Duncan is deceived by Macbeth’s hospitality.
Other critics espouse dramatic irony, where the expectation is in complete contrast to the reality, as in King Duncan commenting that Macbeth’s “castle hath a pleasant seat; the air/Nimbly recommends itself unto our gentle senses” (I:6).
My interest in this text is based on my belief that Shakespeare’s greatness does not lie in the language. That is normally the gripe of those “forced” to read him. No, once you have a mentor to unravel the complex verbal constructs, the truest assessment of Shakespeare resides in Hamlet’s conviction that “Art holds up a mirror to life”. The Bard’s art was to accurately reflect life as he experienced it.
It is this little snippet of knowledge that makes the reading of Shakespeare’s plays such a joy. It’s not about high-minded intellectuality. One finds the same bawdiness in Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, or in the works of the Italians (Dante’s Divine Comedy or Boccaccio’s The Decameron).
The Eastern writers gave us A Thousand and One Nights, while many other countries and ideologies gave us tales that teach, entertain, delight and keep us protected against the heinous realities of our present clime.
Oscar Wilde wrote a few short “poems in prose”. One tells of the death of the Greek hunter who also became known as The God of Vanity. He rejected all romantic advances from ladies, having fallen in love with his own loveliness. He admired his own beauty in a pool of water in the woods.
So obsessed was he with seeing his reflection in the water, that he rejected the overtures of an Oread or nubile young nymph called Echo, who was so distraught at the rejection that she faded away into a whisper.
The god Nemesis was so incensed she turned his self-love into an obsession. This caused him to fall into the pool and drown. Out of pity, she turned him into a flower. The Spirits of the Woods, all Oreads who had been rejected by Narcissus, visited the pool.
“Why has your cup of sweet waters changed into a cup of salt tears. Is your grief so great that you can no longer reflect the beauty of Narcissus?” The pool responded: “Our grief is not that we can no longer reflect the beauty of Narcissus in his own eyes. We mourn because we can no longer see our own beauty reflected in his eyes.”
This is a cautionary tale against self-aggrandisement or solipsism, vanity and an inability to show empathy for others. Small wonder then that it is treatable these modern days as an illness which requires intervention.
The condition is called narcissistic personality disorder and identifies people with NPD as cocky, manipulative, selfish, patronising and demanding.
If you are still wondering at what my point this week is, please don’t take strain.
I just loved these two snippets which emerged when I decided to live above load shedding, corruption, murder, state capture, escaped convicts and the hoo-ha about the artist formerly known as Prince. Make up your own mind.
* Alex Tabisher.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.
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