Fintan O'Toole's Shakespeare Is Hard, But So Is Life is a lot of fun to read. Its central concern is with permanently putting to silence the theory of the "Tragic Flaw", which for about a century dominated commentary on the tragedies. O'Toole contends that this view came about for the purpose of turning Shakespeare's great works (the book contains essays on Hamlet, Othello, King Lear and Macbeth) into Victorian morality lessons. And he's very convincing. I hadn't realized before how much space this unsupported (and quite ridiculous) position had occupied in the minds of readers. How unfortunate and misguided it was to reduce these incomparably rich works down to didacticism - to argue that Hamlet was guilty of "shirking", or some other nonsense, for example. Thank goodness for O'Toole, who uses wit, irony and powerful textual evidence to win the argument decisively and to put the emphasis back where it belongs: the thoughts, the language and the stories.

He also states that the great tragedies deal with protagonists who find themselves divided between world-views and/or time periods. For example, Hamlet finds himself torn between the medieval mindset of honour, blind loyalty and revenge (personified by the ghost) and the renaissance one of education, art and political change. There is a telling moment at the end of act one, scene two where after Horatio and the two guards (Marcellus and Bernardo) have told Hamlet about the existence of the ghost, they make plans to meet him later on the battlements, and then say goodbye to him in a formal, but appropriate way - he is a prince, after all. But Hamlet responds in a surprising fashion - and one that entirely supports O'Toole's ideas:

HAMLET

If it assume my noble father's person,

I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape

And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,

If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,

Let it be tenable in your silence still;

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,

Give it an understanding, but no tongue:

I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:

Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,

I'll visit you.

All

Our duty to your honour.

HAMLET

Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.