My day job as editor of a business journal makes me by necessity a student of language. I deploy language — words on newsprint and a website — to report on businesses and business issues. Nights and weekends I herd still more words into mystery novels. And, I’d like to believe, at least a few well-turned phrases. Consequently, I remain vigilant for the best ways in which to convey information in the most compelling fashion.
As a student of language, I’m also a fan of a William Shakespeare and the remarkable ways in which he conveyed information. There’s an undeniable beauty in Shakespeare’s writing, but even more so the fundamental truths he revealed about the human condition.
Were I but half as clever, I’d try to imitate the Bard of Avon. Although I’m uncertain of how that’d work in a business newspaper. A story, perhaps, about an entrepreneur contemplating a new location for a growing venture? To build, or not to build? That is the question. It would be far easier to emulate Shakespeare in writing mysteries. Imagine the murderer frantic to wash blood-stained hands. Not unlike Lady Macbeth. Out damned spot! Out I say!
At the same time, it’s tempting to make fun of Shakespeare’s Elizabethan English. Bill Watterson did so ingeniously in one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes comic strips. Calvin’s mom catches him as he’s running out the door and inquires: “Wither goest thou young rogue? Can there yet remain some villainy thou has not committed?” Calvin answers: “Thou dost wrong me! Faith, I know not where I wander. Methinks the most capricious zephyr hath more design than I.” The exchange became something of a standing joke whenever I asked my two teen-aged sons where they were headed on a Saturday night.
But here’s the thing — and, at long last, my point. Many common descriptions and phrases come from Shakespeare plays. People imitate Shakespeare every day whether they realize it or not.
A post that appeared on the Mental Floss online magazine enumerated some of them, including fair play, lie low, kill with kindness and good riddance. The Sherlock Holmes catchphrase “the game is afoot” originated with “King Henry V,” not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
But wait, there’s more. If you complain about a wild goose chase or that something confusing is Greek to you, you’re reciting Shakespeare. Even knock, knock jokes originated with the bard.
As envious as I am of Shakespeare’s unmatched abilities, I doubt I’ll try to imitate them as editor of a business journal. Or, for that matter, a mystery novelist.
But as a student of language, I’m no less appreciative. The live long day.