Shakespeare the Writer, Consistency

Before I begin to finish my exploration of Shakespeare as a writer, I wanted to add a reminder/clarification: Shakespeare is a good writer. But there's a peril when looking at the Bard as an exemplar. "Shakespeare did it, so I can do it, too," is probably the wrong way to approach it. I feel like it isn't that Shakespeare wrote a particular way, therefore it's good writing; rather, good writing works a particular way, so Shakespeare utilized those techniques; therefore he wrote well.

It's also important to realize that understanding how something is done is not the same as being able to do that thing. I understand how Shakespeare wrote--I understand blank verse, classical allusion, and the difference between "thou" and "you"--but that doesn't mean I could create the same way he did. I find it similar to the guitar: I can learn how to play "Enter Sandman" or some other excellent piece of rock music, but I couldn't write a song of the same power and appeal. What we're exploring here is what good writing looks like, using Shakespeare as a guide. No more ado...

The final analysis of Shakespeare's trifecta of advice for modern writers (having already explored Shakespeare's language and his interiority), I'll make assay with the final, knotty, paradoxical concept of consistent variability.

Confining Consistent

Not every character in Shakespeare is worth the same. The world would be impoverished without Iago, but losing Peter (the manservant of the Capulet family in Romeo and Juliet) would matter significantly less. And losing out on Two Gentlemen of Verona would be a lesser tragedy than losing out on Richard II. It's important to remember the same thing as a writer: Some characters don't need the interiority nor the variability of the leads. Nevertheless, of the over 1,200 characters in the entire body of Shakespeare, many of them--a huge portion of them--have something in them that points toward a humanity that is beyond the stage and infuses themselves as individuals. 

The primary idea here is in two parts: the consistency and the variability. Pairing the ideas together is a paradox, but that's part of the point. Still, consistency within the text--a character behaves in a way that is predictable once the basic philosophy of the character is revealed--is something Shakespeare does well. It isn't a consistency that the character is the same at the end of the play as at the beginning (though that can be the case for some of the more minor and clown characters, the ones who aren't the focus of the story); it's a consistency of their personality. Jaques (the primary one, not the randomly inserted one with the same name near the end) from As You Like It is defined by his melancholy. He pursues that perception throughout the play. 

The same can be said of the malevolence of Iago (Othello), the goodness of Regan (King Lear), the irreverence of Gratiano (Merchant of Venice), and more. These characters have consistent, clear characteristics that imbue them with a sense of reality. We all have friends who are inherent Slytherins (like Richard III) or charming Hufflepufs (like Nick Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream). They have certain behaviors and worldviews that are natural to them and, while instrumental to the plot, don't have the feeling of a plot device. That is, Dogberry would be his malapropism-hurling self regardless of the goings on in Messina. Yes, he works well as the bumbling guard of the prince's watch, but we get the sense that his purview doesn't necessarily end or begin within the confines of the story.

As a writer, I try to think of what my characters were doing before the story starts. What are they in their core, the pieces of themselves that comprise their most essential parts? By exploring the untold backstory and revealing to myself (as author, not reader) what my characters think and feel, I can start approaching that consistency of a character that Shakespeare modeled.

Vagaries of Variety

Variety in characters is crucial. Shakespeare is not a "diverse" writer in our modern sense; he has a handful of non-White European characters, who vary between diabolically perverse (Aaron; Titus Andronicus) to stereotypically malevolent (Shylock; The Merchant of Venice) to stereotypically stereotypical (Prince of Morocco; The Merchant of Venice) to desperately insecure (Othello; Othello). These characters are almost never rendered in a sympathetic light, and the only one who is a protagonist is Othello, whose play ends in tragedy. There is something to be said for him attempting to add some color to his plays, particularly in a society and situation that didn't necessary demand that nor really permitted a lot of humanization of minorities. And, particularly in the case of Shylock, he goes to great lengths to create an ambiguous character--one who falls into the expected mores of behavior that an Elizabethan audience would understand while at the same time subverting those expectations.

There's also something to be said about the women in Shakespeare. His female characters are surprisingly robust and thoughtful, but there are too few of them, and they all--no matter their wit and vivacity--capitulate to the expectations of their society. It should be said, however, that it's remarkable how many he put in. We all know about how the Elizabethan/Jacobean stage disallowed women from enacting any part. Despite the fact that it would be easier to write male-only plays (like Julius Caesar), Shakespeare still chose to incorporate females into his work as frequently as possible. He also has women running all sorts of desires, from the Machiavellian Lady Macbeth (Macbeth) to the thoughtlessly sluttish Phoebe (As You Like It) to the thoughtfully beneficent Regan (King Lear), he has a variety of women that populate his world.

This kind of diversity, though not as robust as a modern readership might appreciate, is an example of how to continue progress. Some people read Antonio as being a closeted gay man, pining for Bassanio throughout The Merchant of Venice. There are instances of cross-dressing (usually played for laughs, of course) between both genders. Drunkards rub elbows with royalty; those with sagacious, magical powers give them up before the power of forgiveness. There are manifold examples of characters from sundry walks of life, each playing their part, each enhancing the story told. A modern writer could do worse than learn that lesson.

Consistently Eclectic 

Despite analyzing the two terms separately, the thesis of this piece is that his characters themselves are "consistently variable". This doesn't apply to all of his characters, and in some ways it's about having a strong character arc. There is a consistent characteristic that comes under pressure and the character has to change as a result. These are the massive consequences of the plots of the plays--the story tells us how and why, for example, Macbeth is one way at the beginning of the play, yet different at the end.

In fact, Macbeth is a great example of what I'm talking about. Macbeth is consistent in many things--skill, ambition, and reflection. That consistency shifts, with the same amount of attention, as his tragedy unfolds. He uses his skill for good--until he uses it for ill. He exercises his ambition in favor of Duncan and the quashing of a rebellion--until he exercises it against the same. He seeks others' opinions and ideas, requesting Banquo and his wife to advise him--until he seeks only the demoniacal advice of the Weird Sisters and then, ultimately, his own understanding. Part of the power of Macbeth is that all of his characteristics remain, but they change him. 

Hamlet's vacillation, one of the most perplexing puzzles of the play, is actually part of his consistent character. Not surprisingly, Hamlet becomes the paradox in and of himself: He is consistently at odds with himself and the world, an ambiguity which fuels the play and adds depth and complexity. It should be noted that Hamlet's ambivalence is a difficult task to do. One of the reasons that there aren't additional Hamlets in the world is, in part, because of how hard it is to make a character be sympathetic and odious, rash and thoughtful, wholesome and vile. 

Fin

There are more lessons that can be learned from Shakespeare, as much in life normally as in writing. His love of language, his ability to craft and express human feelings, and the way in which he had variation, consistency, and diversity throughout his works are all pillars of his writing style and ability. While there is more to say (there is always more to say about Shakespeare), I think I'll leave it here with a quote from the Bard himself: 

...so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.