Comrade Shakespeare | Word Theater

If one had too much money—I really mean too much of it—one could afford edifying leisure activities. One wouldn't have to take private trips into space or the deep sea like the rich idiots of today, but could devote oneself to pleasant literary studies without having to consult the booklets from Reclam's Universal Library, which always make one look a bit schoolboy-like, even at an advanced age.

At the recently concluded "Rare Book Fair" in faraway Melbourne, for example, an early complete edition of Shakespeare's works, the so-called Third Folio, from 1664, was offered for sale for two million US dollars. This is not an unusual price for a folio, one of those editions that, after the Bard's death in 1623, circulated his collected works and often served as a model for later editions. The Third Folio is also considered a rarity because a large portion of the edition was destroyed unsold in the Great Fire of London in 1666.

So, does one finally have to internalize the rules of capital and place a copy on one's shelf at home? Of course not. There are handsome facsimile editions of Shakespeare Folio that have compiled the pages in the best possible condition, creating a reprint that's as flawless as possible. They're also expensive enough. And for the thrifty reader, Frank Günther's excellent translation (along with the English original) in the dtv paperback editions is the right choice; incidentally, it's also more manageable than such a weighty tome. Or you can revel in the beauty of the language in Thomas Brasch's translation.

And yet, Shakespeare has rarely been staged as beautifully in the theater, and even more rarely in film, as in this early book edition. The simple portrait of the mysteriously unknown author, which also adorns this column. Ornate, but not overly exuberant, initials that introduce the plays. The Latin numbering of each act and scene. The concentrated, yet not rushed, presentation of world literature. Clear and beautiful.

The fact that books can be so beautiful is dispensable. Like any luxury. But while German left-wing intellectuals (do they still exist?) chase after Malik's first editions, only with dust jackets, of course, and sensitive middle-class children with conscientious household budgets compile their Rilke in editions from the Insel library, and supposed free spirits with a penchant for provocation display their Ernst Jünger prominently in their living rooms, I'll stick with Comrade Shakespeare. The folio editions are more of a museum piece. But I, too, can enjoy a volume illustrated by Hans Scheib with Shakespeare's "As You Like It" in Heiner Müller's translation.

Anyone who is left shaking their head at this should be reminded of Hermann Hesse's poem "To a Friend with a Book of Poems," which ends with the lines: "If we are called to account, / For having occupied ourselves with such nonsense, / We shall bear our burdens more easily / Than the pilots who flew last night, / Than the poor, bloody herd of armies, / Than the lords and greats of this earth."