George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950)

Having just purchased the complete works of Shaw from the digital publisher Delphi Classics, I began with this early novel (his fourth?) detailing the ambiguous career of a wealthy Englishman convinced of the monstrous injustice of the reigning economic system that leaves workers poor and the idle, rich. No heroic figure, however, he abandons his loving wife — arguably driving her to her early death — and continues hanging around with members of his own class, old acquaintances and new, show more to act as an irritant and provocateur. When asked to justify his outlandish behavior he delivers bitter and clever speeches that closely match the views of Shaw himself. Between speeches, he plays with the emotions of much younger women. He is a man to whom regret, much less apology, is a stranger. He feels no apparent responsibility to anyone or anything except the class struggle, including none to individual members of the working class which he ostensibly wants to benefit. At one point he admits that he has no intention of giving up his wealth and privilege, since such an effort would be a mere drop in the bucket of change.

Both the plot and, to some extent, the tone swerve unpredictably back and forth, and there is no satisfying resolution, although two pairs of lovers do marry appropriately to provide a happy ending Shakespeare-style. Despite all this, the writing sparkles in places, and the very unpredictability of it all keeps you reading. What was Shaw thinking by airing his views via a character who is a moral monster? Or did Shaw agree with his antihero's argument that he bears no moral responsibility for the pain he leaves in his wake? And why, despite my confusion, do I not regret the time I spent with this book? Is it just the dissonance that comes from reading a novel whose skillful author, in believing that its villain is its hero, seems to feel no dissonance at all? show less

While "Major Barbara" and "Androcles" are forgettable takes on religious hypocrisy and "salvationism," "Saint Joan" is a wonderful and straight account of the famous French warrior (I rank it with [b:Candida|418373|Candida|George Bernard Shaw|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327970073s/418373.jpg|1586414] and [b:Man and Superman|364284|Man and Superman|George Bernard Shaw|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327934226s/364284.jpg|376394] as my favorite Shaw plays). The special quality of the show more play is that Shaw writes it in a sincere effort to be objective and factual, thus providing human elements to the traditional "villains" of the story and also recognizing Joan's own faults.

But the real value in this book comes from the prefaces he wrote to each play, which in some cases are longer than the plays themselves and in all cases revolve around GBS's specific brand of atheo-communism. As always, I recommend reading the preface after its respective work (I'll never understand why authors feel the need to discuss major characters, plot elements and themes before you're supposed to have read the book. . . shouldn't that be in the afterword/postscript/appendix?).

Even though I didn't much care for the short and mostly trivial "Major Barbara" or "Androcles," I greatly enjoyed their prefaces. In the former, Shaw defends his position that poverty is the greatest sin of all since all others stem from it, and thus it should be the first problem addressed in any civilized society. In the preface to "Androcles," which is at least twice as long as the actual play, Shaw reviews all of the information we know about Jesus (going very thoroughly through each gospel and all of their discrepancies) and then explains in detail why he was not a divine prophet but rather a radical communist reformer. He then goes on to explain why we should take him up on his suggestions in the modern day. "Saint Joan's" preface was the least impressive of them all, which is appropriate considering the play can stand on its own. Shaw essentially talked about how he arrived to believe that Joan was as he had depicted in the play.

I don't agree with everything Shaw says even though I'm quite attracted by his intellect, wit, and clarity of thought. He's certainly not the most humble of fellows, and I understand that he was pretty well loathed in his day mainly for this reason. But it's hard to deny that the man was a first-rate freethinker and came up with not only some pretty original ideas, but also original ways in which to express them artistically. If nothing else, he had a very unique way of expressing his unique viewpoints, and it's evident even in lesser plays like "Major Barbara" and "Androcles." show less

A thinking parrot? Oh dear! Eliza is fed up selling flowers down the streets. She dreams of working in a posh shop. Fair enough! BUT, young girl raised by an alcoholic and from the lower classes of the London Est End, poor Eliza only speaks the dialect of her class, and with a strong accent reflecting her social roots that is, a resounding cockney absolutely unacceptable to serve ladies and gentlemen in a posh shop! Imagine that... ! Oh dear. Fortunately, she will meet Mr Higgins, expert in show more linguistic and speech therapy who will change all that...

Don't be fooled by the title. The link with Ovid's myth is rather shallow. Eliza is far from being a silly girl, and the rest is more a punchy criticism of English society before WWI (it was staged for the first time in 1914) than a naïve romantic little story.

The cruel relationships between the characters, Higgins' tyranny, barely counter-balanced by the curiosity of a Colonel Pickering intrigued by this weird bet to change a poor street seller into a lady, hide in fact a violent slap given right into the face of a arrogant class society, where each is judged, snobbishly, for their language. At the time indeed, to be educated was to speak a 'proper' English that is, the English of London's social elite. To don't abide by it was to risk ridicule, and stigma. An accent carried, after all, a lot of prejudices; Shaw, Irishman in England, knew very well what he was speaking about (no pun intended!).

Oh! Did I write 'at the time'... ? Ha! Yes. We are way above that nowadays, aren't we? We don't judge people anymore solely on their way of speaking, do we?... Gnark gnark^^

Timely, and pure genius! show less

This is the only play I have read or seen by Shaw, but I must admit to enjoying it immensely. It is one of two plays I am tutoring undergraduates on this year, the other being Oliver Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer, both of which are very funny, but I think Shaw takes the cake for thoughtful social commentary. Whereas Goldsmith still buys into the dominant social discourse of his times, Shaw lacerates the war-mongering ethos of his 1890's audience while retaining great dramatic and show more humorous momentum.

The play is set during the Serbo-Bulgarian war of the 1880's, but this does not matter much to the plot. Shaw wrote the play without reference to any specific conflict; in fact, he did not even give his characters names, but filled in the blanks in the text after consulting one of his friends on recent historical conflicts. Raina Petkoff, daughter of a Bulgarian major, is betrothed to Sergius Saranoff, a rising star in the Bulgarian army and Shaw's representation of the overly-Byronic hero. When Sergius initiates a suicidal cavalry charge on the Serbian forces, he and his forces miraculously survive, as the Serbs ordered the wrong ammunition for their machine guns. The Serbs retreat through the Petkoff's home town, and one of their hired mercernaries, the Swiss officer Bluntschli, escapes by climbing the balcony to Raina's room. She manages to hide him from the advancing Bulgarian forces for reasons that are not initially clear, though an amatory grounds are hinted at. Bluntschli, who carries chocolates instead of ammunition, returns to the Petkoff's house after a peace treaty to thank Raina and to return her father's favourite coat. But Sergius and Major Petkoff also arrive, leading to intrigue and confusion...

Shaw, a practicing Socialist, is often accused of writing polemics and dressing them up in plays, but that does not seem true of this play, at least. The juxtaposition of Sergius, who believes in military glory, with Bluntschli, who views war pragmatically, is interesting and well handled. I also enjoyed the way Shaw deflates romantic views of love by, for instance, exposing the hypocrisy at the heart of Sergius and Raina's relationship, which, though supposed to be predicated on the ideal of the 'higher love', actually rests on empty emotions and deceit. Shaw also has things to say about class relationships, which aligns him with Goldsmith, but as mentioned above, Shaw seems much more perceptive concerning these issues.

The play is very funny, and has aged well. I look forward to reading more Shavian plays - God knows the man wrote enough of the things (more than 50!). show less