My stomach dropped when I first glimpsed the syllabus—one Shakespeare play every week for an entire semester. High school encounters with the Bard had left mixed impressions. While Othello had surprised me with its psychological complexity, Julius Caesar and Romeo and Juliet had felt like endurance tests rather than enlightenment. Shakespeare, it seemed, existed in that peculiar literary purgatory reserved for authors we’re told to revere but struggle to connect with, yet I grudgingly acknowledged this was another shot at truly understanding his plays.
Yet something thrilled me about diving deep into Shakespeare’s works in a college seminar. This wouldn’t involve rushed, surface-level high school analysis. Here lay an opportunity to sit with these plays, to wrestle with their language, and discover what had captivated audiences for four centuries. Maybe, I thought with cautious optimism, I’d finally understand what all the fuss was about.
I didn’t anticipate how my initial apprehension and curiosity would gradually transform into genuine appreciation. Shakespeare—whose language can feel deliberately opaque—might actually deserve your time, even without grades hanging in the balance.
Break up with your high school Shakespeare trauma
Reading Shakespeare feels like decoding a particularly vindictive crossword puzzle written in Early Modern English. Those “thou shalts” and “wherefores” create immediate barriers—a linguistic moat, if you will, designed to keep modern readers at bay. And let’s be honest, sitting in freshman English while teachers explain iambic pentameter for the third time hardly sets anyone up for a lifelong Shakespeare obsession.
Focus too much on identifying iambic pentameter patterns, and it’s easy to miss the fact that Hamlet is having what amounts to a spectacular nervous breakdown, or that Much Ado About Nothing contains some of literature’s wittiest verbal sparring.
Beatrice: A of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Benedick: I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good
a continuer.
Much Ado About Nothing, Act 1 Scene 1
Shakespeare wrote entertainment for packed theaters filled with everyone from nobles to groundlings. He created works that needed to captivate audiences who could, and likely would, walk away if bored. Shakespeare understood his audience, and his audience wanted spectacle.
When “To be or not to be” hits different
Around the sixth week of my Shakespeare journey, the fog began to lift. Not just linguistic comprehension—though that helped—but realization dawned. Hamlet’s “to be or not to be” wasn’t merely a famous quote to memorize. When you’re navigating adult uncertainties and drowning in indecision, those words transform into manifestations of 3 AM insomnia. Hamlet’s hesitation suddenly felt less like dramatic weakness and more like Tuesday night.
Shakespeare’s plays grapple with themes that resonate today. Beatrice shatters traditional gender roles and fearlessly challenges those who provoke her in Much Ado About Nothing. Twelfth Night explores gender fluidity, while The Merchant of Venice confronts religious intolerance.
The characters’ struggles remain equally relevant: Lady Macbeth’s ambitious descent into madness parallels to hustle culture. Iago’s manipulation tactics could be pulled from any social media thread about toxic relationships.
These narratives aren’t museum pieces gathering dust—they’re practically ripped from contemporary headlines.
The original influencer
Teachers neglected to mention one crucial fact during classroom discussions: Shakespeare wasn’t crafting elevated literature for highbrow elites. He designed plays for the unwashed masses. His plays functioned as blockbuster movies of their day, brimming with ribald humor, sword fights, supernatural encounters, and sufficient melodrama to fuel several reality television franchises.
His cultural influence extended so far that we still quote him daily. “Break the ice,” “be all and end all,” “wild goose chase,” “wear your heart on your sleeve”—Shakespeare invented all these phrases. Ever been “in a pickle” or experienced “love at first sight”? Thank your “lucky stars” or complain about “too much of a good thing”? That’s all, Shakespeare. The Bard coined over 1,700 words we continue using today, including “bedroom,” “gossip,” and “swagger.”
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Ophelia, Hamlet, Act 4 Scene 5.
Shakespeare literally established the foundation upon which modern popular culture continues to build. Taylor Swift sings about star-crossed lovers. HBO launches a series about corrupt individuals orchestrating their own destruction through ambition. Both tap into narratives Shakespeare established centuries ago.
He wasn’t following cultural trends, he created the entertainment template that storytellers still reference today.
The joy of finally getting the joke
While wrestling with Richard III during week eight, I suddenly recognized a character was making a double entendre during what I’d considered a serious monologue. Shakespeare had delivered a punchline across centuries to a caffeine-addled college student surrounded by dusty reference books.
There’s a distinct satisfaction in “cracking the code” of Shakespeare’s language. Your brain adjusts to the rhythm. You stop translating word by word and start actually getting it.
Shakespeare wasn’t meant for hushed reverence and academic solemnity. He wrote scripts for boisterous crowds actively eating, drinking, heckling, and fully engaging with the performance. His works aimed to entertain, not intimidate.
This revelation opened doors. I found myself laughing out loud at clever insults in The Taming of the Shrew. By week twelve, I was texting friends about the absolute chaos in Titus Andronicus like I was recapping reality TV. Week fifteen found me emotionally invested in Henry V’s underdog story.
How to actually enjoy Shakespeare (for real this time)
Ready to give Shakespeare a second chance? Here are some ways to make the experience enjoyable.
Start with strategic play selection
Unless you’re a history buff comfortable with numerous Henrys, Richards, and Elizabeths, skip the histories. Proceed directly to the comedies or the most engaging tragedies.
Much Ado About Nothing features two individuals who despise each other before falling in love—the original enemies-to-lovers narrative. Journey into romance, magic, and mistaken identities with A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Macbeth delivers witches, ghosts, and more homicide than your favorite true crime podcast. If you’re drawn to complex family dynamics, give King Lear a try. And for a unique blend of comedy and tragedy, with a focus on themes of jealousy, redemption, and the healing power of time, The Winter’s Tale is a fantastic choice.
Abandon the solo journey
Use resources presenting the original text alongside contemporary translations. Explore graphic novel adaptations combining Shakespearean language with visual context clues.
Watch performances
Shakespeare created scripts, not novels. Attend productions—local theater, film adaptation, or recorded performances. Experience the humor, understand the plot mechanics, and observe how the language actually flows in a conversational context.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players
Jacques, As You Like It, Act 2 Scene 7.
Create a reading group
Nothing demystifies Shakespeare like reading scenes aloud with enjoyable company. Assign character roles, embrace dramatic interpretation, and laugh at the jokes—they were meant to be funny.
Not just for English majors
By the end of my Shakespeare marathon, I had transformed into an enthusiast. Plays I’d initially approached with dread became something I genuinely anticipated exploring rather than trudging through out of obligation.
My experience showed that Shakespeare truly belongs to everyone, not just academics and theater enthusiasts. He’s accessible to anyone who enjoys stories about complicated humans making questionable decisions under pressure. His works endure not because they represent “important literature,” but because they continue reflecting our experiences with surprising freshness and accuracy.
If your sole Shakespeare exposure involved being compelled to read Romeo and Juliet while your teacher explained “wherefore art thou”—spoiler alert: it means “why are you” not “where are you”—consider offering the Bard another chance. Approach him on your terms, free from essay deadlines and exam pressure. You might discover why we’re still discussing this playwright four hundred years after his death.
If you ultimately decide Shakespeare isn’t for you? That’s perfectly acceptable too. But you might find yourself surprised to discover that the writer you dismissed as tediously irrelevant proves remarkably current—even in a world Shakespeare never could have imagined.
