But if Shakespeare himself is maybe about meaning and truth, I
But if Shakespeare himself is maybe about meaning and truth, I don't know, then he is certainly about pleasure and interest, we start with pleasure and interest, but maybe eventually it gets to meaning and truth.
"But if Shakespeare himself is maybe about meaning and truth, I don't know, then he is certainly about pleasure and interest, we start with pleasure and interest, but maybe eventually it gets to meaning and truth." These words spoken by Stephen Greenblatt hold within them a profound reflection on the nature of Shakespeare's work—a recognition that the power of his plays is not merely in the meanings they convey but in the pleasure they offer to those who witness them. In this, Greenblatt gives us a beautiful lens through which to view not only Shakespeare’s art, but the art of life itself. Pleasure and interest, as Greenblatt suggests, are the entryways to something deeper—truth and meaning—that only become apparent as we journey through the landscape of human experience.
To understand Shakespeare, one must first engage with the pleasure he offers. Shakespeare's works are filled with the rhythms of life—love, ambition, betrayal, joy, and sorrow—all presented in such a way that we are drawn in, captivated by the interest of the characters, the drama, and the conflict. This is no accident. Shakespeare understood the human soul and knew that to reach people, to truly stir them, one must first appeal to their senses, to their pleasure. It is through the delight of language, the thrill of the plot, the depth of the characters, that we are first hooked. Only then, through this engagement with the surface of the story, do we begin to recognize the deeper currents of meaning and truth that pulse beneath the surface.
Consider, for a moment, the great tragedy of Macbeth. At first, we are gripped by the pleasure of the spectacle—the rise of Macbeth, his ambition, the witches’ prophecies, the supernatural forces at play. We are fascinated by the moral complexity of the characters, the tension, and the drama. But as the play unfolds, we are led into deeper reflections about the consequences of unchecked ambition, the nature of guilt, and the corrupting power of power itself. What began as an engaging story becomes a profound exploration of truth, revealing the devastating effects of self-deception and moral decay. In this, Shakespeare shows us that pleasure and interest are not opposed to meaning; rather, they are the very vehicles through which we are led to a deeper understanding of life.
This principle of starting with pleasure and eventually arriving at meaning can be seen not only in Shakespeare but in the very story of how humanity seeks wisdom. Consider the great philosophers of ancient times, such as Plato. At the outset of his dialogues, he often began with simple questions—questions that engaged the listener’s mind, sparked their curiosity, and stirred their interest. Through conversation, through playful engagement with ideas, Plato led his followers to greater insights into the truths of the world, about virtue, justice, and the nature of the soul. Just as Shakespeare uses the pleasures of storytelling to guide us toward a deeper understanding of human nature, Plato used the pleasure of intellectual debate to guide the soul toward wisdom.
We are all, in a way, like the audience of a great Shakespearean play. We begin our lives drawn into the spectacle, the pleasure of existence, the richness of our experiences, the adventure of love, friendship, and ambition. But it is only through the journey of life, through the highs and lows, that we come to understand the deeper truths that underpin our actions. As we grow, we learn that life is not just about seeking pleasure, but about finding meaning in the choices we make and in the consequences we face. It is through our experiences—the drama of our own lives—that we arrive at the truth of our existence, just as the audience of a Shakespearean play might begin with the thrills of the story but end with a deeper reflection on their own lives.
The lesson here, then, is that pleasure and truth are not two opposing forces but are intimately connected in the pursuit of wisdom and understanding. We must not dismiss the importance of pleasure—the joy we find in the simple pleasures of life, the interest we have in the stories we hear, the things that captivate our hearts and minds. These are not distractions but rather the very means by which we come to understand the truth of our own humanity. To reject pleasure in favor of a dry, analytical pursuit of truth is to miss the richness that life has to offer.
Let us then approach life, as Shakespeare did, with an understanding that pleasure is not the enemy of meaning, but its guide. Let us seek to engage deeply with the things that capture our hearts and imaginations, knowing that in time, those very things will reveal the deeper truths we seek. As we move through our lives, let us embrace the interest that draws us in, the experiences that move us, and trust that these, too, are part of the journey toward a greater understanding of truth. Like the greatest works of art, life itself is not just about what we see on the surface, but about what it calls forth from us in the depths of our being.
KT38.Le Thi Kim Trang
Greenblatt’s reflection on Shakespeare speaks to the dual nature of great art: pleasure followed by meaning. This raises an interesting question: Can we separate the enjoyment of art from its deeper truths? Or does the experience of pleasure set the stage for understanding? Perhaps the best works of literature are those that entice us at first, but lead us toward greater insights as we engage more deeply with them over time.
KNKIEN NONG
I find Greenblatt’s thoughts on Shakespeare intriguing. He suggests that art, especially Shakespeare’s work, starts with pleasure and interest, but eventually leads to meaning and truth. How often do we engage with works of art solely for entertainment, only to later discover deeper layers? Does this imply that meaningful art must be enjoyable first, or is it possible for something to be meaningful and truthful without first captivating us?
MNMinh Nguyen
Greenblatt’s view of Shakespeare reminds me of how literature can simultaneously entertain and challenge us. Initially, we enjoy the pleasure of the narrative, but later, we realize its deeper implications. But can a piece of art be truly meaningful if it doesn't first engage us? Is it the pleasure of the story that opens the door to the deeper truths, or can meaning and truth stand on their own from the start?
GBNguyen Pham Gia Bao
Stephen Greenblatt’s quote on Shakespeare suggests that the enjoyment of his work comes first, but eventually, it leads to deeper meaning and truth. This idea resonates with how we often engage with art or literature—initially for entertainment, but over time, we discover deeper layers. Does this mean that the best works of art are those that offer both pleasure and profound meaning? Can meaning and truth only be appreciated after we are captivated by the work itself?