The Crucible
Arthur Miller
127 p.

Penguin Classics, 2000.
(first published 1953.)

Back cover blurb:

Arthur Miller’s classic parable of mass hysteria draws a chilling parallel between the Salem witch-hunt of 1692 - ‘one of the strangest and most awful chapters in human history’ - and the McCarthyism which gripped America in the 1950s. The story of how the small community of Salem is stirred into madness by superstition, paranoia and malice, culminating in a violent climax, is a savage attack on the evils of mindless persecution and the terrifying power of false accusations.

The man who wrote this play was married to Marilyn Monroe. Unfortunately, this play is by no means as amazing as she was. In fact, I found it down-right bad. There are perhaps two characters who does not make me want to stab someone. I believe that the reader (or viewer, I suppose) ought to be sympathetic to Proctor, but me? I just sat there and hoped that a rock would fall down and squash him mercilessly. And Abigail? Let’s not get started with Abigail. If we did, we’d be here all night, and I, sad as it is, need my eight hours of sleep plus some extra, for good luck. In short: I hate these people.

And the writing! Gor, the writing! It is so pretentious and I don’t believe in it. I don’t think that that was the way people spoke in the seventeenth century. And all the scene descriptions! Barely a sentence goes by before you get interrupted by a bracket with some insignificant detail telling us that the character is going to pick up a green book with daffodils on. Oh, that was made-up, but it is more or less that level of artistry. It is bad.

Wikipedia tells me this is a tragedy, which is why I am categorising it as such. In any other case, I would categorise it under “comedy”, even though the only thing funny about it is how incredibly, exceedingly dull it is.

Macbeth
William Shakespeare
142 p.

Classical Comics Ltd., 2008.
(First published 1623.)

Back cover blurb:

William Shakespeare’s full and unabridged play in comic book form!

This full colour graphic novel presents “The Scottish Play” just as Shakespeare intended: in its original and unabridged format. Ideal for purists, students and readers who will appreciate the unaltered text.

Macbeth is probably the most dramatic of Shakespeare’s tragedies and this version will give you a brand new and totally fulfilling view of the sheer genius of Shakespeare’s story telling.

Witchcraft, superstition, murder - it’s all here! Featuring stunning artwork, and full of action, atmosphere and intrigue from start to finish; this new treatment of The Bard’s wonderful tragedy will have you on the edge of your seat.

I can’t say how many times I’ve read this play. This in itself feels a little ridiculous to say, seeing as I’m not even legal, but already I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it. I have read it, at least, four times. Those are the times I can definitely account for. Additionally, I have seen it probably five times, in different versions (stage and film), and then tehre’s this. Macbeth in a graphic novel version.

That concept itself wins my adoration. Especially it makes a good graphic novel. The transposation from the empty text to the illustrated text goes smoothly, and makes it understandable. I did, for a while, get very iffed at the very untrendy haircuts everyone had, but I assume that since everyone probably looked like that, I am a bit unfair for dissing them like that. (oh, ouch, that is very colloquial!)

Now, I filed this in school reads, which is slightly misdirecting. I have read this play for school a number of times, and it wasn’t strictly for school I read it. Oh, alright, if it weren’t for school I probably wouldn’t have crammed in enough time to actually read it. I’m just tagging it for school because in some manners, it is for school. Even if my reading it again didn’t benefit me much!

This being a little sidetrack from the topic, I would like to say that the semicolon in the last paragraph of the back cover blurb creeps me out. I can not at all make it understandable. It ought to be a bloody comma! …I really ought to stop being so annoyed at back cover blurbs, oughtn’t I?

Though this is an opinion I almost fear to voice, I must say I strongly dislike Lady Macbeth. I won’t go so far as to say I hate her, but she irks me quite badly. In my eyes, she is the real fiend in the play. Which is a pity, because in reality, she is quite a fascinating characters, but all her arrogance and self-certainty just annoys me, and makes me pity Macbeth.

Of course, no one holds a candle to Banquo. Banquo is the best. Even though he might, in this version, look like a carrot-headed idiot.

Medea
Euripides
70 p.

Natur och Kultur
(published together with Aischylos’ Agamemnon.)

Back cover blurb:

[---]

MEDEA av Euripides (ca 485-406 f.Kr.) är svartsjukans, den kvinnliga lidelsens och könskampens drama. Euripides tog i sina dramer upp psykologiska och sociala frågor och tvekade inte att ifrågasätta gamla värderingar. Hon tillhör dem som lade grund för den moderna litteraturen och har haft en oerhörd betydelse för europeisk dramatik och skönlitteratur.

This is another thing I read for school. If it wasn’t in the school syllabus, I probably wouldn’t have read it, as it is Greek and Greek is my sister’s field, not mine. But I read it, and I enjoyed it. Or, that is to say, I enjoyed the first sixty-five pages. Then Medea was given a chariot with dragons, and I just did not buy that. Where did those dragons come from anyway?! As a moralistic work, this is complete and utter bullshit. Someone kills - directly or indirectly - an insane amount of people, but is still given the moral highground, because her husband cheated on her. Even the fact that she kills her own sons doesn’t seem to faze the gods. This made me incredibly upset. I am not a nice person, I don’t hold too much on morals and all that, but there is something seriously wrong with something like that.

I must also admit not being too fond of Medea. I thought she, as a character, was a bit too hysterical, a bit too mad, without any good cause. A lot of people in my year enjoyed her immensely, and whilst I really liked the story overall, she didn’t convince me. Neither did the ending. However, this might be related to that this is the first Greek play I have ever read. If I had read more, I might be more impressed. The fact that many seem to dislike the ending of the play makes me feel relieved. For once it isn’t me who is deviating from general opinion. I always feel so wrong when I do that.

However, my class is going to do our best to dramatise at least parts of the play, and I am very excited. As you are.

The History Boys
Alan Bennett
109 p + xxvii p

Faber & Faber, 2004.

Back cover blurb:

An unruly bunch of bright, funny sixth-form boys in pursuit of sex, sport and a place at university. A maverick English teacher at odds with the young and shrewd supply teacer. A headmaster obsessed with results; a history teacher who thinks he’s a fool.

In Alan Bennett’s new play, staff-room rivalry and the anarchy of adolescence provoke insistent questions about history and how you teach it; about education and its purpose.

Let’s be honest: I saw the film before I read the play. However, seeing as the differences between the two are so tiny, it doesn’t matter much. I instantly fell in love with the story. I adore Cambridge as a town, and even the slightest mention of it makes me giddy. (My sister got accepted to an undergraduate there, which means I will soon have a reason for going there, apart from homesickness.) Cambridge is mentioned not all the time, but a lot of the time. Oxford is also big, but I’ve never been there, and I don’t have any kind of relationship with that place. Now, the thing is that I don’t want to study in Cambridge. One person in my family’s going there, why should I? It wasn’t Cambridge that was the reason I loved this play so much.

It was the characters and their relationships I completely fell for. They are all so beautiful. Some of them are right arses, but they are described with so much vigour that even the worst people seem interesting. There are extremely few characters - even I, with a memory of about five minutes, can keep track of them. Posner is in love with Dakin, who in turn gets more or less with obsessed with their new teacher, Irwin. This subtle homosexuality, obviously there but never too apparent, was aweinspiring. It is gay at its best. It’s not deemed unnatural, but nor is it that everyone is gay. The cast is almost completely male, with one female teacher, who is fantastic. All of these characters are people I would love to talk to, if only for just a little bit. (I must admit that I wouldn’t want to spend too mcuh time with Dakin, who is a little nasty, despite being extremely fascinating.)

And the language! It is fluid and gentle and honest and it flows like a river. It is sprinkled with references I can and cannot place, incorporated like the most natural thing in the world. They quote poems and songs from the thirties; they know all the words to When I’m Cleaning Windows off by heart. I love George Formby. It’s these small things that makes it is such a joy to read. In the film they play the intro to This Charming Man, which had me in fits of fannish glee. (yes yes yes, I know, you shouldn’t let your opinions of a film influence your opinion of the work it’s based on.)

Now I really want to see the play staged. And I want to see the film again. And then, maybe, I shall read the play again. It was good enough to.