LEAR: The King of Queens?

For centuries scholars have tried to figure out what made William Shakespeare (and his numerous legendary characters) tick, and as such the canon of Shakespeare has been studied, interpreted, reinterpreted, deconstructed, and took apart and put back together again like some kind of literary Humpty Dumpty. Few of Shakespeare’s creations stir as much discussion as the titular monarch of “King Lear”; as tortured as Hamlet and as conniving as Richard III, Lear is one of literature’s great enigmas. It is in recent decades that feminist studies threw in a hand at debunking the myth of King Lear. Now, in our twenty-first century anno domini, the battle of the sexes is now laid bare on the table: a proud octogenarian on the verge of madness versus three daughters who may be willing to lie, cheat, and murder for control of his kingdom. Place your bets, folks.

The stage is set in the opening scene: King Lear, more accustomed to the all-or-nothing officialty of the public court (it is a man’s world, after all, and this man is the king) than the emotional gray areas that women (and most men) find solace, is scheduled to pass the torch and divide his kingdom amongst his three daughters.

This does not go as planned.

Case in point: after daughters Regan and Goneril tell Lear exactly what he wants to hear (what need has Lear for the truth?), they are given his blessings. However, unlike her power-hungry sisters, youngest daughter Cordleia has the audacity to tell the truth: “I love your majesty according to my bond; nor more nor less.” One thing that has been agreed upon by scholars is that of Lear’s three daughters, only Cordelia maintains the honor befitting the monarchy, and even Lear fails to see that.

As per the Shakespeare tradition, things immediately get violently out of hand. Lear’s one-hundred knights still loyal to him regress to drunkenness and malfeasance. Plots are hatched. Cold heartlessness reigns in his stead.

Lear’s descent into madness can superficially traced to his age (though the dementia common to one of his years obviously did him no favors), and yet his inability to understand anything other than a regal world with no place for “water-drops” has desensitized him. He has no use for compassion or nurturing. These “feminine” attributes that Lear has denied for decades have distanced himself from his daughters, and he finds himself unawares and off-guard when the Machiavellian plots of Goneril and Regan take shape. Unfortunately, there is little (nay, nothing) that Lear can do to prevent the onslaught, for his years of chauvinism and male pride have made the damage irreparable.

An evening lost in the storm, joined by his Fool (who displays his own brand of twisted wisdom) and “madman” Tom o’ Bedlam (actually deposed one-time heir Edgar, who has not fared much better than Lear, but that’s another story), Lear finally learns, though now too little and too late), the error of his ways. The back-stabbing that surrounds him will cost him two daughters, and soon a third. Lear’s reconciliation with Cordelia is short-lived and too bittersweet for Lear’s old heart. She is hanged, and a grief-stricken Lear soon follows her to the grave, with hopes that the next generation of the monarchy should fare better.

“King Lear” is arguably William Shakespeare’s most existential and depressing offering, and it is a valid argument, to be sure. As with much of Shakespeare’s oeuvre, one could spend years, if not a lifetime, putting the pieces together of a tragedy as epic as “King Lear”, but the feminine presence in the text is undeniable. King Lear learned the error of his ways, and suffered for it, but alas, such is the nature of tragedy.

The only thing certain is sentiment and politics

Few people alive today can count themselves as fortunate as Marjane Satrapi; writing a best-selling memoir (as a black-and-white graphic novel, no less!) is, as we all know, an arduous process in which only a few can truly hack it, but that accomplishment seems moot compared to the trials she endured for many years growing up in Iran during the 1980's.

Marjane's home was a country seemingly bent on destroying itself, where nightly raids, arrests, and bombings only strengthened the resolves (and hastened the graves) of the power-seeking fundamentalists in one revolution and the nationalistic puppets of another war. Caught in the middle were any souls brave enough to challenge the oppressors, and anyone else unlucky enough to be caught in the daily crossfire. The horrors were such that young Marjane Satrapi would not (and could not) have persevered and survived without the support of a family as strong as hers.

Marjane was blessed to have had two intelligent, strong parents such as hers. Using non-violence to fight the oppressors in secret, all the while instilling their only daughter with the identity and wits to survive, Marjane's mother and father are the moral compass who promise her a better tomorrow, and give her the tools to make it so.

Marjane also has invaluable role models in her uncle Anoosh (a political prisoner for nine years and later killed by the Islamic Republic) and her grandmother (who gives Marjane a sense of national pride and heritage). A bond as strong as the one Marjane has with her parents and extended family keep her alive and safe, even as the world around them succumbs to senselessness.

I do not believe that Marjane would ever agree with her father's declaration that "sentiment and politics do not mix." Growing up during one of the most turbulent periods in modern civilization, Marjane Satrapi could only hope to find happiness and a chance to live through the love of her family.

Having lost countless friends and family during those violent years, Marjane nevertheless lost sight of the bright future ahead of her. Though it is uncertain that she could have imagined becoming a world-renowned author back in the age of "Jichael Mackson" (a "punk" symbol of Western decadence to the oppressors), Marjane Saptrapi was practically rescued by sentiment, a stronger ally against any enemy or politics.