The Sonnets and A Lover's Complaint - William Shakespeare

How does one go about reviewing England’s National Poet; the greatest contributor to English literature of all time? Do I fawn, grovel and cower beneath the majesty of such a personage, or do I risk exposing myself to scorn by condemning the well-worn bard as less than great? I make no pretence to good taste, only esteeming that which moves, elevates, or lowers me to realms beyond, above, or beneath my own. The Sonnets, 154 well loved examples of Romantic poesy, have endured the centuries with their enthralling confessions of love and jealousy. The concluding poem, A Lover’s Complaint, brings the odyssey of heartache to a close with a piteous lamentation of spurned affection and misplaced trust. My Penguin edition also came with a lengthy introduction which I would advise the casual reader to skip entirely. Not only was it unnecessarily convoluted, but it actually bored me to a fit of exasperated sighs not unlike the lovesick bard’s. The sonnets speak best for themselves, with the stagnant introduction reading like a pompous professor’s thesis.

The Sonnets were written some time after the plays which made Shakespeare one of the most famous individuals ever to have existed. Their ordering has been heavily contested by scholars over the years, but this edition seems to have them sussed. Best read in continuation of one another, they tell a story of a love torn mind plagued with infatuation. The first 126 are addressed to a fair haired youth, presumably male, whilst 127 to 154 are written to a dark mistress who has stolen the aforementioned youth from the poet. Major themes include love, beauty, mortality and the devastating inevitability of Time, personified brilliantly as Death wielding a wide arced scythe. Much debate has reigned regarding the sexuality of Shakespeare, such is the intimacy displayed in his longing, erotically charged verse. It was not uncommon in the sixteenth century for a man of the arts to have a close male companion, so we can probably safely assumed that Shakespeare’s love for the golden haired Adonis was both sexual and platonically transcendental. His tone towards the dark mistress is a wonderful combination of lustfulness and bitterness entwined as sugar and spice. Thematically, the overall dynamic is deliciously intoxicating.

Praise done and dusted, bestowed where earned, what did I not like about the Sonnets? In short, their tautological aspect. With some minor exceptions, most of the Sonnets are repeating over and over the same vows of constancy and all-conquering affection. They say the same thing in just about every conceivable way, sometimes beautifully, other times rather crudely. Either way, the quality of the rhyme rarely falters and each Sonnet can be analysed endlessly. Reading them in sequence was something of a slog, especially as Shakespeare’s flowery language requires multiple readings before it can be processed into modern vernacular. I confess that it took me a while to get the gist of what each sonnet was about, but like a code, once cracked, it remains accessible. It seems an impossible task to give Shakespeare’s masterful poetry a fair rating, but my final score must reflect my level of enjoyment when reading them in bulk. Can I with unaffected conscience rate these expressions of overflowing sensuality and rollicking wit beneath far inferior writers? Yes, I can. The Sonnets, whilst sumptuously composed, drew one too many yawns from my ignorant bosom.

Such poor abused sonnets from a genius wordsmith, how ill I treated them! But what of A Lover’s Complaint, that depiction of pastoral Arcadia where a young girl’s heart is rent in twain by a conniving cad? It was an interesting and engaging insight into a maiden’s abused modesty, but (dare I even think it?) it did not stir quite the same level of pity as Ovid or Homer might have coaxed. A classicist at heart, I read it twice through and failed to imbibe that sense of greatness which should have been there. Alas it was not, and I closed the book with mixed emotion. Call me debased, pretentious, false and artful - it will not change my unkind verdict. Let it also be known that although I have always esteemed our saviour poet, I have never particularly liked him. Now I slink back to my mountain cave, an imposter on fine taste. This is not to say that The Sonnets and A Lover’s Complaint is a bad read. On the contrary, it is an unparalleled work built of exquisite insight on the faculties of the heart. PBe so as it may, I was grateful to reach the final page of the book. I recommend this collection to all lovers of poetry.

Rating: 2/5