Masterpiece Monday: The Handmaid’s Tale

Image via Goodreads

Rating: 5 out of 5

Happy Victoria Day to all my Canadian readers! We here in the States don’t learn too much about Queen Victoria, unfortunately, and while I don’t really know how Canadians celebrate the queen’s birthday, I hear it’s full of fireworks, parades, and drinking–not unlike our own Memorial Day next week! So cheers to our neighbors up north!

I would have to say that the most famous Canadian author living today would be Margaret Atwood. I read her well-known novel The Handmaid’s Tale while attending UC Santa Cruz, and I immediately fell in love.

It seems only natural, since I’m never met a woman who disliked this feminist dystopian tale. Set in the near future, the Republic of Gilead (the former USA) is run by a racist, sexist, theocracy which completely reversed the progress made during the Feminist Movement of the 1970s.

In this society, women have no rights, forbidden from reading to possessing their own money. The protagonist Offred (name meaning “Of Fred,” referring to her master) serves as a handmaid, whose only job is to combat the declining birth rate and reproduce. If she fails, she’ll be declared an “unwoman” and discarded.

What’s interesting is that Offred is part of the first generation of handmaids, meaning that she remembers life pre-Gilead with her own husband and daughter. Now separated from them, the novel is written in the form of her diary as she flashes back and forth from her past and present.

Very few novels are able to create a dystopian universe that is this intricate and disturbing. Since Atwood is a devout feminist, much of the terminology in The Handmaid’s Tale is biblical, pointing to all the patriarchal notions that Christian theology encourages.  Because of these allusions, Atwood has created much controversy.

I would argue that this book should shake you up. The graphic scenes of the “Ceremonies” and the overall sense that women are nothing but wombs should make you angry, frustrated, and afraid. Because you just have to read the news of the right-wing fundamentalists trying to destroy Planned Parenthood and eliminate women’s reproductive rights to understand that this story is not as far-fetched as you might think.

Clearly, The Handmaid’s Tale, and the rest of Atwood’s work, is not for everybody. Many might find her writing too radical. However, if you’re an advocate for female empowerment and you enjoy literature that is mentally stimulating, then you’ll love this novel. I know I did!

Favorite Quote: “Maybe none of this is about control. Maybe it isn’t really about who can own whom, who can do what to whom and get away with it, even as far as death. Maybe it isn’t about who can sit and who has to kneel or stand or lie down, legs spread open. Maybe it’s about who can do what to whom and be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.” (Ch. 23)

Masterpiece Monday: Medea

Cover of Medea (Dover Thrift Editions)

Rating: 5 out of 5

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to blog much last week, but I was celebrating my upcoming graduation with my grad school girlfriends in Las Vegas! I had such an amazing time, and after staying up all night, I have a serious case of the Mondays. But at least it’s Masterpiece Monday!

So Mother’s Day is this weekend, and I’ve been finding it difficult to find really good mothers in classic literature. Most women hundreds of years ago had children out of obligation rather than choice. Just look at The Awakening and Madame Bovary, for example. However, I’d much rather discuss probably the worst literary mother: Medea.

Medea was first produced by the ancient Greek tragedian Euripides in 431 BCE. It tells the tale of Medea, a barbarian woman from Colchis known for witchcraft. She married Jason, hero with the Golden Fleece, and traveled to Corinth. There, Jason falls in love with a princess named Glauce, daughter of King Creon. Interested in joining a royal family, Jason tosses Medea aside.

In a fit of unparalleled revenge, Medea murders Glauce and Creon with poisoned robes. Not satisfied, she decides to bring complete ruin to her husband by killing her own two children. She declares that she hates Jason more than she loves her progeny.

Surprisingly, Medea is not punished by the gods for her actions. The sun god Helios carries her and her sons’ bodies to Athens as the play ends. The chorus breaks into song frequently throughout the production, contemplating the morality of Medea’s actions, but it’s up to the audience to form their own conclusions.

As for this reader, I absolutely love Medea. Compared to Sophocles and Aeschylus, Euripides is such a bad-ass. He often writes about powerful women, including Helen, Andromache, and Hecuba, placing them as the stars in his tragedies.

His plays are also the most violent of the three playwrights: My second-favorite work of his, Bacchae, narrates a young man ripped from limb to limb by his own mother in an ectastic, orgiastic episode. All of this occurs at the hands of the vindictive god Dionysus.

Obviously, Euripides is an acquired taste, and may not suit prim-and-proper readers. But he manages to contrast gritty, brutal themes with beautiful writing. It’s a shame that there are so many texts of his that remain lost or in fragments.

So why do I love Medea? She’s the quintessential figure behind the saying “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Because she has semi-supernatural powers and is a foreigner, she is not chained to Greek mores. She suffered through a tremendous betrayal and finds the perfect way to get back at her scumbag of a spouse. She realizes that killing him would be too easy; it’s much crueler to kill his loved ones and force him to live with his guilt.

Do I think she’s a good role model? Of course not. Are her actions justified? I think so, but that’s for you to decide. If you’re interested in reading Greek literature, leave your Judeo-Christian notions behind and open your mind to an entirely different way of thinking. If you can do that, you might just find yourself enjoying some of the most celebrated, intellectually rewarding pieces of literature in the entire world.

Feel free to share your thoughts about Medea or just give a shout-out to your favorite literary mothers! And don’t forget to call your real one on Sunday!

Favorite Quotes: 

“This I say, that those who have never had children, who know nothing of it, in happiness have the advantage over those who are parents” – Chorus, lines 1090-1095

“Let no one think me a weak one, feeble-spirited, a stay-at-home, but rather just the opposite, one who can hurt my enemies and help my friends; for the lives of such persons are most remembered” – Medea, lines 805-810

Masterpiece Monday: Poems About Loss

Tattoo of Thomas' famous lines

Today is a somber day, because it’s the one-year anniversary of my beloved grandfather’s death. Coincidentally, it’s also his birthday, so I find it an apt reminder of how life and death are so intertwined. Thus, for Masterpiece Monday, I thought I would share with you my favorite poems regarding loss. You are more than welcome to add to the discussion your own experiences with grief and any pieces of literature that help you cope.

“Death, Be Not Proud” by John Donne (1633)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

“Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” by Dylan Thomas (1952)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Death is one of the most ubiquitous topics in poetry, and these poems are two of the most famous that discuss it. (Donne’s poem is even the focus of a film starring Emma Thompson called “Wit,” in which she plays a scholar who is diagnosed with cancer. A total sob-fest, but I highly recommend it).

I chose these poems because even though they come from two completely different eras, they share some common themes. Donne’s belief in an afterlife allows him to downplay death’s power, while Thomas only uses the word “death” once, instead preferring to call it a “good night.” Donne says to not fear death because it holds limited might, and Thomas adds that people do not have to accept death with weakness, but rather hold onto their strength and vitality.

I’m not using these poems as examples of how to view death, because I understand that everyone deals with loss differently. Some find comfort in an afterlife, others don’t. Some prefer to go out in their prime, others hang on to every day given to them. Neither is right nor wrong, and we should support one another through difficult times despite our varied coping mechanisms.

All I know is that today is a reminder of how much those who are gone are not forgotten, because we can still cherish the memories we made with them. After a year, I still miss my grandfather terribly, but I know that he lived a rich life and I am so grateful for the moments we shared together.

Blogging this has been therapeutic, and I want to thank my readers for all your support. It’s nice to feel part of a community–and it’s even nicer when we’ve bonded over some great books and poems!

I’ll leave you with a final quote by A. Sachs: “Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives.“

Make sure you live your life to the fullest today, and every day!

Love, Book Club Babe

Masterpiece Monday: Transcendentalist Poetry

Walden. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yesterday was Earth Day, and I thought I would celebrate by discussing the most famous literary movement regarding nature: Transcendentalism. It’s basically a philosophy of the mid-19th century that asserts that humans have a special, inherently good relationship with nature, and that the spiritual world rises above, or transcends, the mortal one. Transcendentalists believed in a simple, minimalist life of self-reliance and independence.

The two most famous Transcendental poets were Ralph Waldo Emerson  (1803-1882) and Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862). These well-educated friends were both abolitionists: Emerson believed in the divinity of all things, while Thoreau became known for his naturalist journals and simple living on Walden Pond. Thoreau was more radical than Emerson, given that he practiced civil disobedience by refusing to pay taxes (he even spent a night in jail for his evasion).

To celebrate the environmentalism surrounding Earth Day, I’ll share poem excerpts about nature from each writer.

Excerpt from “Song of Nature” by Emerson

Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The sunburnt world a man shall breed
Of all the zones, and countless days.

No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,
My oldest force is good as new,
And the fresh rose on yonder thorn
Gives back the bending heavens in dew. 

“Nature” by Thoreau

O Nature! I do not aspire
To be the highest in thy choir, -
To be a meteor in thy sky,
Or comet that may range on high;
Only a zephyr that may blow
Among the reeds by the river low;
Give me thy most privy place
Where to run my airy race.

In some withdrawn, unpublic mead
Let me sigh upon a reed,
Or in the woods, with leafy din,
Whisper the still evening in:
Some still work give me to do, -
Only – be it near to you!

For I’d rather be thy child
And pupil, in the forest wild,
Than be the king of men elsewhere,
And most sovereign slave of care;
To have one moment of thy dawn,
Than share the city’s year forlorn. 

Notice how both poets create that powerful connection between the earthly world and the heavenly realm. They recognize their inferiority in this grand universe, and their words are humble. Sometimes it’s nice to read their poetry to get back to basics and appreciate the wonder of nature.

Of course, don’t think I forgot about Shakespeare’s (alleged) birthday (and deathday)! If the Bard were alive today, he would be 448! I’ll most likely write a more comprehensive tribute in the near future, but for now I’ll leave you with a parody of Hamlet by the Sassy Gay Friend!

And there’s more what that came from! Check out the clips of Romeo and Juliet, Othello, Macbeth, and Henry VIII!

Masterpiece Monday: Night

Image via Amazon

Rating: 5 out of 5

In case you didn’t know, Thursday is Holocaust Remembrance Day in America, the origins of which date back to 1978 when President Carter created a memorial commission and established Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel as the chair.

Wiesel is most famous for his memoir Night, published in English in 1960. In the novella, Wiesel recounts his experiences in various internment camps during World War II. He discusses the horrific living conditions, the beatings and murders by the Nazis, and his loss of faith in God and humanity. He even comes to see his own father as more of a burden due to the old man’s ever-waning health.

Eventually, Wiesel was rescued by the US army in 1945, but didn’t speak of his past for ten years. Then he wrote a manuscript of over 800 pages, about 100 of which was composed into Night. The book is actually the first part of a trilogy (Dawn and Day as the sequels, respectively), but I have not personally read them. However, Night is the only part of the series that is not fictional.

I read this story in high school, a couple years before Oprah selected it for her book club. It has become synonymous with the Holocaust, and although it is disturbing and graphic, it effectively conveys the tragedy to the public. In fact, I recently learned that when Spielberg directed “Schindler’s List” in 1993, half of high school students in America were not aware of the genocide, and 20% of them denied its very existence. Those figures have since been disputed.

Regardless of that poll’s results, there are still too many people today who are uneducated regarding the Holocaust and other genocides in history. Too many people today still hide behind their bigotry and say these cultural/religious groups deserved their fates.

I’m not Jewish, but I am Armenian, and Armenians also suffered from genocide during World War I. Allegedly, Hitler was even motivated to annihilate the Jews because the Armenians had been massacred relatively unnoticed by the world. April 24 is Armenian Genocide Recognition Day, so I will be returning to this theme next week.

I just want the world to memorialize those whose lives have been lost, and to do all that it can to prevent such tragedies from occurring again. We should never forget the Holocaust, the Armenian Genocide, and other atrocities, but we should also never stop striving for freedom and peace.

Favorite Quote: “One day I was able to get up, after gathering all my strength. I wanted to see myself in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I had not seen myself since the ghetto. From the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me. The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me.”

Masterpiece Monday: Of Mice and Men

Of Mice and Men (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rating: 4 out of 5

BEWARE: SPOILER ALERT!

Hope everybody had a happy Easter yesterday! Because I’m more interested in the time spent with family than the spiritual aspects of the holiday, I usually associate Easter with egg hunts, chocolate, and–of course–bunnies. As I was brainstorming what to discuss for Masterpiece Monday, my morbid sense of humor immediately thought of John Steinbeck’s 1937 novella Of Mice and Men. If you don’t understand the sick joke yet, stay with me.

Of Mice and Men is about two migrant workers, Lennie and George, living in California during the Great Depression. Because Lennie is mentally challenged, it is difficult for them to find work. Lennie’s dream is to own land and raise a bunch of rabbits. Unfortunately, his love for soft things often results in killing them because he is not aware of his own strength.

This serious issue escalates from mice, to puppies, to finally, the wife of their boss’ son. George, aware that Lennie will continue to be a danger to himself and others, chooses to end their friendship in the most tragic way. After meeting one another and reminiscing over Lennie’s dream bunny farm, George shoots his companion in the back of the head.

I would hate to label this novel a “bromance,” but it does exhibit one of the most famous male friendships in literature. What makes it special is that the ending forces the reader to determine just how loyal of a friend George was. Was murder the only option? Was it malicious or merciful?

Other than Steinbeck’s excessive descriptions of scenery (I mean, I live in the Central Valley of California, but how long can a man talk about landscape? Geez!), this is a great novella with many timeless themes. I recommend this book, not only to anyone living in this state, but to all those who want more classic American literature in their lives.

And for those of you who are familiar with the story, go watch Looney Tunes again, because you’ll see the Abominable Snowman in a whole new way!

See what I mean? Nothing’s better than finding out your favorite cartoons are smarter than you thought they were!

Favorite Quote: “I seen hundreds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads . . . every damn one of ’em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn one of ’em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land.”

Masterpiece Monday: Iliad

Achilles kills Hector. Detail from an Athenian red-figure clay vase, about 500-450 BCE. Rome, Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano H545 © Museo Gregoriano Etrusco Vaticano

Rating: 4 out of 5

Now that my comprehensive exam process is over, I’ve been busy grading papers and reading my first guest recommendation. I won’t spoil the surprise, but I will tell you what I’m going to read next: The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.

I was intrigued by the story because it’s written by a woman with a BA and MA in Classics who now teaches the subject to high school students. This is her first novel, and it’s an adaptation of Homer’s Iliad in Patroclus’ perspective. It has gotten rave reviews, so I’m excited!

But if you haven’t read the original tale of the Trojan War, pick up an English translation pronto! (I recommend Lombardo or Fagles). Nothing beats the ancient Greek poetry, but the best translators succeed in balancing the descriptions and the poetic form.

Originally sung by Greek poets and attributed to Homer in the 9th c. BCE, it’s an epic about the war between Greece and Troy (an empire allegedly located in modern-day Turkey). Now this story has an extensive character list, so bear with me through this summary!

Trojan prince Paris has stolen Spartan king Menelaus’ wife Helen–yes, the cliche that launched a thousand ships. Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon has brought along Achilles, the strongest warrior in all of Greece. Achilles, thanks to his mother, is practically immortal, save for his famous tendon. However, his mother knows that Achilles will die in the war, and when she tells him of his doom, he goes to Troy anyway to seek glory.

Just thought I'd add this image...hot damn, what was I talking about again? Oh yes, Achilles (as played by the sexy Brad Pitt in 2004's "Troy")

However, Achilles becomes a reluctant soldier after Agamemnon steals his slave-girl Briseis. Because he refuses to fight, his cousin/closest friend/implied lover Patroclus takes Achilles’ armor and pretends to be him in battle. Not until Patroclus is murdered by Paris’ brother Hector does Achilles seek revenge and become emotionally invested in the war. Cue the bloodbath!

I absolutely love the Iliad, because it’s the ultimate war story–gritty, violent, brutal, oozing testosterone. I mean, just read this excerpt from Lombardo’s translation:

Next came Demoleon, Antenor’s son, a good soldier. Achilles pierced his temple through his helmet’s bronze cheek pieces. The spear’s business end sheared right through bronze and bone, scrambling the skull’s contents and stopping him cold. (20.405-410)

And there’s tons more extremely graphic death scenes where that came from! But unfortunately, the Iliad does not cover the whole story of the Trojan War; in fact, it fails to include the crucial before and after scenes: The Judgment of Paris, in which the prince wins Helen in a goddess girl fight, and the Trojan Horse, which inspired an entire class of computer viruses thousands of years later.

The literary holes are due to the gaps in the oral tradition, but luckily other ancient Greek tales fill in the blanks. And speaking of blanks, I’ll probably review the movie “Troy” sometime soon, as well as other ancient Greek adaptations since  I could talk for days on those films (especially those that suck–that’s right, I’m referring to you, “Clash of the Titans” and “Immortals!”)

So anyone else obsessed with all things Greek? What other tales or myths would you love to see reviewed?

Masterpiece Monday: Poems about Racism

So I have a team presentation in my Media Ethics class tomorrow, and it’s about the ethical issues surrounding a radio talk show host who holds very bigoted views, but also makes the station a ton of money. My partner and I essentially take Voltaire’s position of “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” Even though we do not respect the Don Imuses and Rush Limbaughs of the world for their hate speech, they still have the freedom of speech.

However, that does not make their comments moral whatsoever. I chose to look at three famous poems that deal with the personal effects of racism. Note: the first poem listed does use a racial slur, but since I don’t advocate artistic censorship, I will include it in its original form. Please understand that I do not mean to offend, but only to preserve the poet’s intent.

“Incident” by Countee Cullen (1925)

Once riding in old Baltimore,   
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,   
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, “Nigger.”

I saw the whole of Baltimore
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That’s all that I remember.

“We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1896)

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
       We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
       We wear the mask!

“I, Too, Sing America” by Langston Hughes (1926)

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.

Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

These three African-American men highlight how racism has affected their lives. Cullen never forgot an instance of discrimination as a child, Dunbar reflects on the emotional struggle African-Americans experience with white society, and Hughes remains optimistic for racial equality.

While the content revolves around the same issue, the poems’ forms differ greatly. Cullen creates a childlike sing-song effect by rhyming every other line. This rhyme scheme enhances the speaker’s youth. Dunbar writes in couplets but repeats the line “We wear the mask” to stress how hiding their true feelings is a constant battle. Lastly, Hughes’s free-form poem emphasizes short, powerful phrases instead of a rhyming structure.

I think that all these poems are beautiful in their own way, and I believe that all high school students should experience them like I did at that age. Too many of my students are under the impression that racism does not exist anymore, that it’s only a thing that we study when discussing the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement.

Although I am grateful that equality has increased legally and socially over time, I am disturbed by this promotion of ‘color-blindness.’ We should celebrate, not ignore, our racial differences, because race is an essential factor to who we are and how we perceive reality.

Right now,  everyone is infuriated over the death of Trayvon Martin (rightfully so, in my opinion), and while I won’t digress into a political debate, I’d like to ask: What do you think these poets would say about this controversial tragedy? How far have we really come since their era?

It saddens me that these events still occur in the 21st century, but we are also capable of inciting sociopolitical change. Going back to the reason I wrote this post, if you find that a media professional (whether he’s on TV, radio, or an internet blog) is spouting off racist opinions, do your part and refute. If enough people post their comments and write their political representatives about fighting racism, then slowly that change will happen.

And when it comes to promoting racial equality, it’s better late than never.

Masterpiece Monday: Poems about Spring

Photo by The Fresno Bee

Tomorrow’s the official first day of spring, and even though we had a hailstorm during the weekend, the weather should be warming up this week. I thought I would share with you some of my favorite poems about this wonderful season, because if there’s anything poets love talking about, it’s nature!

“Loveliest of Trees” by A.E. Housman (1896)

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Excerpt from “Two Tramps in Mud Time” by Robert Frost (1936)

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.

Excerpt from Atalanta in Calydon by Algernon Charles Swinburne (1865)

For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

These three men best describe all the emotions behind spring. Housman discusses how essential it is to enjoy life since it is so short. Frost comments on the crazy, unpredictable weather during the spring months. Finally, Swinburne asserts that spring is a time of rebirth, starting over and leaving behind the despair of winter.

I haven’t meant anybody that despises spring, because who doesn’t love snow melting and flowers blooming? Even if you’re a fan of skiiing and sledding, just as much joy can be found in swimming and surfing. Allergies aside, I for one cannot wait to swap my coats and scarves for shorts and bikinis. I’ve got some fabulous vacations lined up, so the sooner this chill thaws, the better!

What do you think of these poems? Any other poems about spring that you’d like to share? How are you going to celebrate the season?

Masterpiece Monday: Julius Caesar

Brutus (right) and Cassius after they have murdered Caesar on the HBO show "Rome"

Rating: 5 out of 5

Ten more days until the Ides of March, and since I’ll be too busy conquering my comprehensive exam on that day, I wanted to tell you to beware now!

If you aren’t familiar with the Roman calendar (which you should, because we owe Rome big time for our current system), I’ll share some tidbits. “Calendar” comes from the Latin term “Kalendae,” which meant the first of the month. Two other important days were the Ides (15th–or oftentimes the 13th–of the month) and the Nones (8 days before the month’s Ides).

These days were planned according to the moon, but the Ides of March have become famous due to William Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar, which narrates the events before and after Caesar’s assassination on March 15. I can’t believe that I’ve blogged for this long without reviewing a Shakespearean play for Masterpiece Monday, but better late than never, right?

In 44 BCE, Brutus and other prominent Romans, such as Cassius and Casca, feel threatened by Julius Caesar, who has become dictator for life. Afraid of his corruption and their loss of freedom, they plot to kill the ruler and restore democracy. Brutus is one of Caesar’s closest friends, and most of the play revolves around his struggle to commit such a betrayal.

Meanwhile, Caesar ignores many signs of his doom, including his wife Calpurnia’s dreams and a soothsayer’s warning to “Beware the Ides of March.” When he arrives at the Senate that day, he is met by the conspirators, who stab him to death. Caesar’s last words in the play are “Et tu, Brute?” meaning “And you, Brutus?” because he finally realizes his friend’s treachery.

Karma comes back around, however, when the public finds out about Caesar’s will, since the tyrant left large sums of money for every citizen. Enraged by his murder, the common folk demand the conspirators’ deaths. Brutus gives a famous speech offering his defense, but fellow Roman Marc Antony follows with his even more famous “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears” speech and calls for the murderers’ exile.

The end of the play describes the battle between Brutus and Cassius and Antony and Caesar’s adopted son Octavius (who will become the future emperor known as Augustus). Caesar’s ghost visits Brutus and tells him of his defeat. During the fight, both conspirators commit suicide, and Antony gives the final speech, calling Brutus “the noblest Roman of them all” for his good intentions to save liberty.

I absolutely love this play, but I love the Roman history behind it even more. In high school, we had to memorize a speech from Julius Caesar, and I chose to perform as Portia, Brutus’ devoted wife, who also commits suicide by swallowing hot coals due to Antony’s rising power.  I think that all students should have the opportunity to experience the Bard’s exquisite words for themselves.

I don’t think that I learned anything as rewarding as Roman history, literature, and the Latin language–which is why I highly recommend this tragedy. Also check out the amazing HBO show “Rome,” which does a fantastic job showing Caesar’s rise and fall in season one.

I hope doom does not befall you on the Ides of March this year, so be sure to listen to your spouse and any fortune tellers walking around. And of course, don’t piss off your friends, because you never know when they might stab you in the back.

Favorite Quote:

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come. (Caesar, 2.2.34)