Shakespeare, Dead Poets, Eminem, SOA, and TWD.

A writer for whom I hold a particular fondness made an interesting allusion in a work that I recently looked at a little more closely. He alludes to the American folktale of Rumpelstiltskin. The allusion made me think a bit, about the concept of turning nothing into something, of spinning straw into gold. Many people would immediately disregard the thought, not because it was ineffectively presented, but because it was made by a rapper named Marshall Mathers, aka Eminem. That is a shame. I am an unapologetic fan of genuinely meaningful rap music, or meaningful music of nearly any genre, and I would go as far as to say that Eminem's skill at word play and double entendre is on par with none other than Big Willie himself. (That is William Shakespeare for those who did not make the connection.) The man is a storyteller and wordsmith, but simply because he chose a colloquial art form, his skill is discounted by many as unworthy of even cursory consideration. (Yes, I am talking to you, Kim.) Please understand, however, that I do not feel every line scribbled by Mathers is literary gold. Far from it. Some of his work is garbage. He has said so himself. Some of the puns are a bit, well, vulgar, but colorful nonetheless. Guess what? Some of Shakespeare's verse is less-than-Shakespearean in quality too. (That statement could be a discussion in itself, couldn't it?) We cannot disregard the entire Folio because a few lines are crude, awkward, somewhat poorly crafted, or obscene.

I use a lesson in class titled "Shakespeare is Hip-Hop". The speaker, Akala, is a young MC in London. In the video I use in the lesson, he is speaking to a group of scholars and gives them an informal quiz in which the audience members are asked to identify specific lines as having been penned by the Bard or by a modern rapper. It is surprising how difficult it is identify the source of the literarily crafted ideas when the lines expressing those ideas are all that is presented, free from music or stage.

I feel this illustrates that sometimes understanding, or perhaps the weight we give that understanding, is influenced greatly by preconceptions based on the assumed value of the source or presenter.  This fact leads us to give more credence to an expression of an idea by one source than we grant to another, regardless of the validity of the idea itself. For example, in a famous scene from the film Dead Poets Society, the character of John Keating, brought to life by the recently passed Robin Williams, the purpose of language is explained, simply and concisely: to woo women.

I love the film, and I love this scene, among many others. I have yet to argue that this concept, this idea of why we attempt to use language masterfully, is in any way vulgar or disgusting. Take another example that boils down the idea in much the same way, but that has not yet been adopted at a motivational tool in English classrooms, although it might be more effective with adolescent males: 

"I met a girl at a party and she started to flirt.

I told her some rhymes and she pulled up her skirt." (Horovitz, et al)

Ok, it may not be Shakespeare or Fitzgerald, but is the sentiment not the same as the one presented by the character of Mr. Keating, the one that produced knowing nods and chuckles from audiences? Why is the same reverence not paid to the lines from none other than The Beastie Boys? Ok, this example is a bit extreme, and it is clear that the idea is expressed much more appropriately for a classroom setting or academic discussion. However, I believe this is a prime opportunity to teach our young people about register and diction. Don't just toss it away without consideration. Instead, could we not examine if the expression is effective, and when such an expression might actually be appropriate and when it might not be. In other words, as the kids say, "Valid idea or nah?"

I am in no way saying that source or context should not affect how we read or how we examine what we read. On the contrary; I believe the source and therefore the context of a piece must influence our approach and response to a work. Read a little, just a little bit plucked from the middle, of "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" by Jonathan Edwards. Now, pull a bit, just little snippet  plucked from the middle, from a venom-filled spouting from a member of the Westboro Baptist Church. Taken out of context and in limited extent, these two bits may seem to parallel one another. It might be difficult to appreciate the language and sentiment expressed in Edward's sermon if taken out of the whole and without considering who wrote it and when. It would also be extremely unfair. 

However, we should not immediately discount any idea or thought simply because it is uttered in a particular context by a certain individual. We have to examine the idea, and that examination should allow one to disregard the idea on its own merit.

Let's take this in another direction. One of my favorite television shows is Sons of Anarchy. I am also a fan of The Living Dead.  It would be extremely easy for an individual to off-handedly disregard either of these shows as mindless viewing that holds little or no value. One is on FX for Pete's sake! Sons is about a motorcycle club in California. What, besides explosions, violence, and sex does that show have to offer? TLD is in the zombie genre, based off of a graphic novel, which is just a fancy name for a comic book, right? So many strikes against that one as a worthwhile use of time, unless you want to be braindead. 

Yep, I did that.

To immediately toss away those offerings as worthless on a literary level simply because of the genre, producers, or network is not only unfair, it is a wasted learning opportunity. Sons follows a distinct Shakespearean arc, drawing inspiration from Hamlet and MacBeth. Literary allusions and symbolism abound. As part of one storyline, a character is dealing with a crisis of identity and loyalty. As the character grabs a chain from the bed of his truck and moves through the shadows, a song began to play in the background. The song, low and morose, caused me to jolt my chair. "Strange Fruit" is a poem, or a song, about the bodies of black men, lynched and burned, swinging from the branches of polar trees. A sense of dread knotted my gut as Juice, the character, threw the chain over a branch. He had never known who his father was until a sheriff handed him a folder containing the damning information that his father was in fact African-American. The club had never had a black member, and Juice could never live with out the club. Learning and then hiding his origins violated a loyalty code to the club, despite the fact that he was completely unaware of such on infraction, and would devastate him and shake the club. I will not ruin the ending of the episode for you, but that scene is evidence of the depth of the show's writing and production.  The lead writer of the show, Kurt Sutter, was also a major writer for a show titled The Shield. I loved that show too. The protagonist of that series was a classic tragic hero. He struggled with a tragic flaw, and that flaw would lead to his inevitable downfall, an end which he could never escape. 

The Living Dead is a classic tale of the hero's journey, with examples of archetype after archetype. The show is not even really about zombies. It is about survival, interdependence, love, humanity, and growth as human beings. Zombies are just the backdrop that allows the story to be told. A number of quality discussions have sprung from the question, "Did you see The Walking Dead  last night?" Kids amaze me with the depth of examination they will undertake with a character, and then transfer that examination to the literature that we are studying at the time. It is neat.

We must remember that there is a flip side to all of this. Just as we must never blindly disregard offerings without proper examination, we should also not immediately accept an offering as top quality and indisputable because of where or who it comes from.  

Unless you are reading something I have written, of course. Then, one should accept every word as gospel truth and assume that each and every tidbit could stand alone as a golden nugget of greatness. 

Horovitz, Adam, Adam Yauch, and Mike D. New Style. Beastie Boys. Rick Rubin and Mike D, 1986. CD.