My friend’s hairdresser rereads classics covered in high school English classes each decade of her life. Because we live in a culture of semi-literate cretins, her stereotype-defying quest for a lifelong love of the written word is met by many of her friends and family members with mockery and ridicule. Yet, she continues, reaping rich rewards from “The Catcher in the Rye” and “The Scarlet Letter,” “Animal Farm” and “Moby Dick” long after the teen years when most of us lack so much of the life experience to appreciate their treasures.
I was reminded of this hairdresser recently when I discovered through a public library—how I love libraries—that I can listen to The Modern Scholar’s recordings of 14 lectures by renowned critic Harold Bloom on Shakespeare’s seven major tragedies. I was transported. As other listeners noted, Bloom’s enthusiasm for Shakespeare is contagious. The first lecture, in which he sings the praises of Juliet, was astonishing.
It’s a sad fact that most people encounter the teen characters of “Romeo and Juliet” as teenagers, leave them there and never come back to them. As Bloom convincingly argues, Juliet is so much more than a 14-year-old girl. She is, in his estimation, a woman who has achieved maturity and insight, committing herself fully and completely to love, heedless—but not reckless—of its tragic consequences.
In the first lecture, Bloom considers his favorite line. When Romeo, being instructed in love by Juliet who is his superior, thinks she has withdrawn her pledge of affection, she responds:
“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.”
For us, who were raised with lyrics proclaiming “girls just want to have fun,” “a material girl in a material world,” “a man is not a plan,” what a joy to rediscover a boundless optimism, an eternal hope that love can exceed the physical world, transcending to the infinite.
The question of whether to marry and whether or not to have children is now often circumscribed by mere material concerns. What will it cost? Does it financially “make sense”? There is a place for prudence and practicality. But for the question of expense to ultimately dictate immaterial questions of the human soul shows such a sad lack of vision. Can we conceive of a horizon beyond what can be measured, one that is, as Juliet claims, infinite?
Bloom observes rightly that women, be they truly women, must always marry down. That is not a slight against his sex but a timeless observation of reality. Women, grasping at equality have surrendered superiority. What else is lost? A sense of eternity beyond the material. Women are by nature more inclined to sense the immaterial. As Juliet inspires growth in Romeo, so women inspire men and imprint an eternal image on the culture.
Bloom’s musings call to mind Gertrud von le Fort’s “The Eternal Woman,” a book that I read but barely began to understand. If I’m casually spending time with Shakespeare through the likes of Harold Bloom, perhaps there’s reason to hope I can revisit von le Fort in the weeks to come.
