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The World of Shakespeare

I’m such a doofus. Or not. Okay, you decide. And my apologies for this post, which pretty much amounts to an unabashed commercial message. But there’s a real bargain going on here, so please indulge me.

I’ve been on a Shakespeare kick for the last year and a half or so. I live in Alexandria, Virginia — that’s northern Virginia, inside the beltway, a short drive to the Folger Shakespeare Library and, more to the point, within range of at least three theatre companies that regularly put on productions of Shakespeare’s plays.

It’s been an embarrassment of riches. In the last 18 months I’ve averaged a different live Shakespeare play every two months or so. Just ask Random Kath — she’ll vouch for me. Highlights: Teller’s production of Macbeth. The Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Love’s Labors Lost outdoors at the Carter Barron Ampitheatre. And an impromptu Christmas version of Hamlet at the Clark Street Playhouse.

So, to the point: Back in March of 2007, I paid $200 for a complete set of hardcover Pelican Shakespeares: 38 volumes. It’s a terrific set — an easy-to-read quality hardcover edition of the 37 plays in Shakespeare’s canon, plus one volume of the Sonnets. Way better than one of those giant one-volume Shakespeares that threaten to snap your arms off at the wrist, these are easy to carry, easy to read, and each volume is self-contained with all the support you need to enjoy the play without being overwhelmed with footnotes.

I repeat: I paid $200 for this. Full price. Here’s a pic of my actual set, on my actual bookshelf, taken with the crappy li’l camera in my actual MacBook:

My Pelican Shakespeare

And now, here’s the doofus part: Amazon has it for sale right now at $59.80. That’s a 70% discount from what I paid for it. Doing the math, that comes out to less than $1.60 per volume. As Othello put it just before offing Desdemona, “Oy vey iz mir!”

There are a couple of drawbacks. I would have preferred that the volumes be a little bit smaller so that they would be truly pocket-sized. And I would also have liked if they included a couple of more volumes in the set so that I’d also have Two Noble Kinsmen and the narrative poems to round out the oeuvre.

But at this price it’s hard to complain.

I realize that most of my readers have already clicked away at this point. But for a few of you, well, I can already hear you drooling. I’m miffed as all get-out that I way overpaid for the set, but I also know that some of you will be thanking me for putting you wise to this.

So, does that un-doofus me a little then?

Here’s the link:

 

The track is from The Flying Lizards, circa 1980. Great song, but the truth is that I’m just testing out imeem, which is another website that lets you embed music into your blog posts and whatnot online. There are a variety of sites like this, and I’ve found that most of them tend to be buggy. This one looks promising.

You’ve probably heard this song. If not, you’re in for a treat. And if you don’t like it, consider your good luck that I didn’t post a file from Jandek.

In my preview of this post, The Lizards seem to play just fine. Please post a comment if you have trouble getting the link to play, or even if you can play it just fine, and you want to tell me how much you hate it. ‘Kay?

Click to play, Dummy!

De Düva (The Dove)

Just to take a serious turn for the moment…

I am a HUGE fan of those dark and brooding Scandinavian films where life and death and their darkest intimations are studied in bleak detail, where the viewer is not permitted to avert his gaze from the forbidding void that is our inescapable fate. You know —  those shadowy cinematic meditations from the likes of Ingmar Bergman and the late, great Bjorni Yorgibjorn (and if you don’t know who he is, well, sucks to be you, doesn’t it?).

That’s why I’m thrilled beyond all imagination that I have stumbled upon this short film, De Düva (1968), online — a film so obscure and so forbidding that it’s not even on YouTube. I first saw it many years ago and it has haunted me ever since. Running time is about fourteen minutes, so set aside at least that much time for some  high-quality existential dread.

I’m not kidding. You will want to see this. Trust me. It could change you.