On the other hand, there's a whole lot of Dickens that I completely adore -- in particular the great monster 900-page late novels Dombey , Bleak House , and Our Mutual Friend. (The order switches, with BH usually in the lead until I pick up OMF again). All of those manage the whole scope from commentary to characters to just... damn.

Amych is me. Dombey blew me away when I first read it.

Think of everything that happens in the play as adding up correctly to make the ending, just as if you were to take 5 and 2 and 6 and should add them up to make 13. Right! Well, that sum was inevitable."

Just like in Nilly's evil dictatorship!

So the problem with Romeo and Juliet is that 5 and 2 and 6 somehow wind up a few numbers short of the full sum? Good to know.

I recently read a fascinating article [The American Prospect, I think?] comparing the depiction of (juvenile, melodramatic, shallow) love in R&J with (mature, real) love in Antony and Cleopatra that made me want to reread both. Actually it was a review of a philosophy book that contained this discussion, but the book itself seemed way above my level.

What is the appeal of bleakness?

It's been so interesting seeing everyone's answers to this question! And I'd imagine many of the other librarians on our board might feel the same way, especially those of us that do a lot of reader's advisory (essentially, librarian lingo for "recommending books").

I had a long conversation with my dad last year about why we read, a topic that's endlessly interesting to me. I'd been reading a lot of books for work -- decent, enjoyable books, lots of YA fare, but nothing that had struck a chord with me in a while -- and was trying to understand what I needed from books that I wasn't currently getting. Anyway, my dad (who reads widely in, let's call it literature and the classics) said that he often reads to see the world from another point of view; because that experience of getting inside someone else's head can be both fascinating and even pleasurable, even if the subject of the book is bleak.

For myself, these days, I read to be transported, to learn something new, to meet new characters and discover new worlds, to escape, to remember, to experience joy, to experience sorrow, to find out what happens next, to feel comforted, to feel challenged, to be amused, to see beauty, to appreciate craftsmanship, and--like my dad--to understand another point of view, and for so many more reasons besides. Hmm, and looking back over that list, maybe it's time for me to finally tackle Moby-Dick!

I remember a Shakespeare class in college where we discussed how R&J was structured so that up until Mercutio's death, it could have turned into one of the comedies, and even some of the devices at the end (the missed communications and the fake/real poison scenarios) were classic tropes for comedy. I think I would have liked it better that way, and I've always been curious if it might have started out as such.

Slings & Arrows S2 almost made me like R&J. Almost. But it's still just so...silly. It's like the O.C. of Shakespeare plays.

I have mad unreasoning love for Baz Luhrmann's R+J. The play itself? Eh.

It's like the O.C. of Shakespeare plays.

This is the best description I've ever heard of it. Yes, yes, so very, yes.

Reading Romeo and Juliet, it's so clear how silly it is. The O.C. is a good comparison. But seeing it performed, especially the Zeffirelli film, still breaks my heart. Some of the speeches, taken on their own, are still magic to me.

I don't look for bleakness when I read. But I do often seek out the tragic, which is a different animal. It can be cathartic, as JZ and connie, noted, but it can also be sort of ... inspiring? Which sounds Hallmark-y, but something like The Time Traveler's Wife, for instance, always reminds me that joy can be had, and not necessarily be diminished, even if it's going to come to an end.

Re: R&J--there's an hysterical episode of "The Nanny" where some Broadway producer hires Fran to play Juliet in the sequel he was writing.

I adore Uncle Earle's definition of tragedy, the inevitability of it all, the way basic characteristics feed into fate. I do enjoy the artistry of seeing something that came up 200 pages ago suddenly showing its effect. It's like a puzzle where all the pieces could only go into one shape, no matter how much you wish it otherwise.

The Jonathan Firth R&J was the only one that made me feel for Romeo or Juliet.

I am less a fan of unrelenting bleakness than I was from ages 13-22 or so, and I'm not sure what I'd think of Hardy if I revisted him today (I read all of his novels when I was 14, and loved them). I'm still drawn to stories about how each of us is our own worst enemy, more drawn to stories that are critical of The Establishment, and madly in love with a certain kind of self-awareness that's cynical and hopeful all at once.

Really, I'm looking for the novelized versions of post-Various Positions Leonard Cohen lyrics.