Rating: 
Summary: The READER'S Bard
Review: I've wondered for some time now why Harold Bloom has never risen to the very top of my list of favourite contemporary critics, even though he has in abundance the two basic qualities I require in a critic: passionate love of art and stunning erudition. Like many other of the great cultural figures of the 20th century, such as Marlon Brandon and Glenn Gould, Bloom is as mannered, eccentric, and perverse as he is brilliant and fascinating. The good and the bad are jumbled in together and you have to take both. He is also an oddly slippery critic. I've never seen him do a great reading of a single work, and he has never written a masterwork or a great essay (I should point out that I am unfamiliar with Bloom's books on Romantic poetry, his area of expertise). And I have never enjoyed Bloom's clausterphobic prose style, which (as with Henry James) jars with his incessant insistent on "more life" and "gusto," and makes what ought to be an exhilarating reading experience exhausting instead. All of that said, I have to disagree with some of the other reviewers who have complained about Bloom's distortions of Shakespeare and agree with the salon.com reviewer who pointed to Oscar Wilde as the guiding spirit behind Bloom's criticism in this book: the personal bias and incompleteness are deliberate (Wilde writes in "The Critic as Artist" that one can only give an unbiased opinion about something one cares nothing about: "The man who sees both sides of an issue is a man who sees nothing at all"). Yet, to be Bloomian about it, I don't think Bloom's authentic talent is for Wildean criticism. It's more simple than that: behind all of the annoying academese, conscious egotism, and self-indulgence, Bloom is simply saying what readers, as opposed to critics, think when they read the plays. His talent, that is, is for correcting moralizing critics, as for example in the one moment from the book that returns unbidden to me on a regular basis: when he says that Hamlet is least himself in the moment when he apologizes to Laertes, claiming that he has not been himself. That deserves the immortality of the other great comments on Hamlet by Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy and Wilde in "The Critic as Artist." Again, his emphasis only on a handful of Shakespeare's characters is due to his readerly knowledge that unlike professional Shakespeare scholars, READERS don't give a rat's patootie about more than that handful of characters. This is criticism without the meat, but also without the veggies--criticism as pure dessert. I'll grant, as one perceptive customer reviewer pointed out, that Bloom has no idea what to do with Shakespeare plays where character is not the main focus--but we have Northrop Frye for that, don't we? We need Bloom too. This book is not for scholars at all; it's for Shakespeare readers--including, as Bloom would say, the scholar AS reader.
Rating: 
Summary: Good material, bad presentation
Review: It is easy to argue that Shakespeare was the greatest writer of English literature ever. We continue to see his influence today. For example, just think how many of his plays have been made into movies since 1990 alone: off the top of my head, I can think of Hamlet (3 times), Othello (twice), Henry V, Much Ado About Nothing, Love's Labor Lost, Romeo and Juliet, Titus Andronicus, Richard III, King Lear (A Thousand Acres) and The Taming of the Shrew (10 Things I Hate About You), plus Macbeth, coming out soon. Harold Bloom dedicates 700+ pages to the idea that Shakespeare was the best, with a focus on the characters and their development. Bloom definitely knows his stuff and provides some interesting insight. Unfortunately, this book has distinct flaws. The biggest is that he assumes you have read all of Shakespeare plus a lot of other literature (especially Marlowe), and if you haven't, you won't get all he is going to say. The other overriding problem is that Bloom is, put bluntly, an intellectual snob. In literature, where most things are matters of opinion, he writes as if he speaks gospel truth. At first, it is refreshing to read someone who speaks with so many absolutes, but after a while, it gets bothersome. I sometimes got the feeling that Bloom was making up words by throwing "-ians" and "isms" after every name to create new schools of thought; maybe that is typical of Bloomianism. I also feel that he dismisses the concept of reading merely for fun; entertainment alone is not enough for Bloom. As stated before, Bloom has some good insights, and there may be parts of this book I will revisit in the future, but I cannot recommend it to any but the most diehard Shakespeare fans. For others, I recommend the superior Asimov's Guide to Shakespeare; Asimov is no literary critic, but he provides a good overview to the plays in plain language.
Rating: 
Summary: Read Shakespeare
Review: To appreciate this book, you have to believe, like Oscar Wilde, that the only interesting thing about criticism is the personality of the critic. That's what you get, not Shakespeare. If you like the personality, you'll like the book; if not, not. You may also learn about projection: Bloom lumps his critical contemporaries into a "school of resentment," but all the resentment comes from this aging critic. You could also read the earlier critics on whom Bloom builds. Or just read Shakespeare.
Rating:
Summary: the tragedy of it
Review: Bloom is obviously a scholar and a highly intelligent man. He has thought long and well about everything, and his ideas are pregnant with meaning.
It is unfortunate, therefore, that he has not chosen to take the time to express them in a cogent form. His writing style is verbose, repetitve, and tangential. I have tried to read four of his books, and have had to put all of them down simply due to their loqatious impenetrability. His works could easily be halved in length, lose nothing in sense, and gain immesurably in punch.
Whenever I read Bloom, I am confounded that an editor could send forth such material. Is the editor simply too intimidated by Professor Bloom's reputation, or his scholarship, to suggest that liposuction is in order? Or is Bloom himself not only blind to the horrors of his style, but so egomaniacal that he would resist such a merciful act as a trim would provide.
Rating:
Summary: Fascinating, controversial, not gospel!
Review: Actually, if possible I would rate this book 3 1/2 stars. It's good, frequently very good, but just slightly short of great. Anyway . . . When reading this in depth, fascinating personal testimonial of Shakespeare's unique, total and complete genius it becomes most appropriate that Bloom values (along with Hamlet) Falstaff as the consumate Shakespearean invention. Bloom (self admittedly) frequently comes across as a wise, worldly, self depricating, verbose, comical, passionate, and over educated Falstaffian windbag. This is not to suggest that Bloom isn't fascinating, he truly is, it is just that he is so reverential of subject, he ironically often loses the essence of the world's finest author. To quote Gratiano from "The Merchant of Venice", if the world is Shakespeare to Bloom then . . . "You (Bloom) have too much respect upon the world, they loose it that do buy it with much care." As an author, Bloom lets loose with epic verbal pyrotechnics that are most worthy of "so great an object". It is refreshing and exciting to find a erudite scholar willing to shatter the ivory tower and loosen up his pen to wildly paint on the eternal canvas that is Shakespearean criticism. Bloom's central thesis is a compelling one to say the least: that more than any other author in world history, Shakespeare is responsible for creating the modern (and contemporary) notion of the human being. By exploring all of Shakespeare's plays (and fixating upon Hamlet and the role of Falstaff) Bloom methodically, passionately and with a generous amount of pomposity, vigorously defends his thesis. However, my major criticism against Bloom is based upon by strong personal bias against the over intellectualization and complete canonization (but rightfully so) of The Bard. Bloom (building upon the earlier work of Charles Lamb), repeatedly states that Shakespeare best works as a read text. He says that the stage is not the appropriate venue for pure resonance because most productions fall far short of Shakespeare's glory. In other words, Bloom certainly displays a disdain for most theatrical excursions. As an actor, director and teacher, while I agree that many productions do indeed fall short, I believe that Shakespeare comes to life in a live production. Shakespeare never intended to be studied, read and worshiped. He wrote to be performed. To live and resound in the gonads, the fingertips, the heart and the gut in the great symbiosis of the live theatre. That as a writer he appeals to the entire body and soul of the audience is truly a testament to his greatness. And what has killed Shakespeare is the all too frequent reverance bestowed upon him. Yes, he is the greatest author of all time, but he is on one hand nothing more than a playwright. But that pathetic soapboxing aside, Bloom does successful argue that no one owns Shakespeare. Not just actors, nor academics nor even the profiteers. Shakespeare is for all of us because he is all of us. I thank Bloom for writing such a fun read that transcends the dull academia that so often prevails in like works. Enjoy this book, but more importantly enjoy the plays.
Rating:
Summary: Great Analysis, Heavy on Hamlet and Falstaff
Review: There's some great analysis in this volume, and Bloom certainly deserves the high regard that this volume has engendered. The book has a nice introduction that supports the premise that Shakespeare actually created fully rounded personalities in his writing. The rest of the book is each of the plays with a critique followed by a plot summary. Bloom's analysis is very insightful and unique, making this a great new reference for anyone wanting to get a deeper understandings of the Bard's works, though the uniqueness of his views might make it a bit more work for the student who just wants to get an analysis wholesale without doing their own work. I also find his adoration of Hamlet and Falstaff a little excessive since those two characters end up being the paragon that all other characters are held up to and compared to. I find it very curious though that Bloom seems to shy away from the thought that Shakespeare's characters are fully rounded sexual beings as well, since much of the analysis even for such plays as Shrew and Twelfth Night just ignores much of the sexual implications of the byplay in those plays. Still, an important addition to the library of Shakespearean analysis.
Rating:
Summary: Idiosyncratic, But Always Fascinating
Review: Harold Bloom's book "Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human" is not a book which carefully follows the plot of each play and delineates the characters. Instead, it represents Bloom's insight into the characters he finds most unique and those with the most complex and changing personalities, or as Bloom says, with the most "inwardness." His mission is to highlight Shakespeare's great accomplishment in the "invention of the human" personality. One does not necessarily have to accept Bloom's belief, as to the degree that Shakespearean literature has made us what we are, to be fascinated by what he says. But, one would have to be brain-dead not to find great insight into the world of Shakespeare from a reading of this work. Bloom will upset those who have attained their understanding of Shakespeare from the School of Resentment, ie, the radical feminists, the pseudo-Marxists, and the followers of Foucault and his ilk as he makes quick work of their absurdities. Bloom shows how Shakespeare's greatest characters "reconceive themselves" through new modes of consciousness and, through his characters, Shakespeare has taught us to understand human nature. He reveals that for "Hamlet, the self is an abyss, the chaos of virtual nothingness. For Falstaff, the self is everything." "Shakespeare teaches us how and what to perceive." Bloom consistently reveals how "the uncanniness of nihilism haunts almost every play" as Shakespeare's characters deal with who they are in a world that threatens us with internal emptiness. Human relationships, familial love, the struggle between the sexes, passion and value systems are all thrown into question. More than any other, Shakespeare has taught us to take a deep look at the human condition. This is the essence of Bloom's thinking. In sum, this is not the "essential" Shakespearean commentary. But, it is a fascinating and insightful work that should be read.
Rating: 
Summary: The least helpful book on Shakespeare I've ever read
Review: It troubles me to think that this book will be the entry point for many aspiring Shakespeare scholars. Of all the books I have read on Shakespeare, this is the one that I think least of. Bloom is not a generous scholar, refusing to consider any opinion other than his own, while discussing his own vastly conjectural analyses as if they were accepted fact. A good scholar simply should not make wide-reaching claims on the basis of the chronology of Shakespeare's plays (which can never be proven); nor should he make the sort of spurious guesses at the secret identities of his characters that Bloom does without acknowledging that such a practice is purely speculative. For such a conservative reader of Shakespeare, it's pleasantly surprising that Bloom does embrace the concept that Shakespeare's `Hamlet' may be a revision of an earlier play by Shakespeare himself - why then does he not mention that we actually have what may be a draft of this play, in an earlier `bad' quarto? The matter is far better handled in Eric Sams' `The Real Shakespeare'. Many have labelled this work `passionate' - yet there's a difference between being passionate and being overbearing. Rather than encouraging readers to form their own opinions, Bloom does quite the opposite. The reader who does not share his mind-numbingly reiterated passion for Falstaff, for example, will not find much to entertain them here. The most puzzling aspect of all is that Bloom never does put forward a convincing argument for his thesis. Instead, this is largely `What Harold Bloom Thinks About Shakespeare'. I hope this does not become the definitive volume so many have labeled it. So many Shakespearean scholars have given us far more. Before reading Bloom, I'd much rather read Samuel Schoenbaum's `Shakespeare's Lives'. As well as being a biography of Shakespeare himself, it details the follies of the many critics who - like Bloom - have attempted to force themselves onto Shakespeare rather than letting Shakespeare work his simple but sublime magic for himself.
Rating:
Summary: The Master of Boasting and Bardolatory
Review: Prof. Bloom's book is as big as his stomach, as big as his ego, as big as his salary, and as big as his extraordinary love of Falstaff (and Hamlet, and Iago, and Rosalind). This book is wrongly classed as literary criticism: instead, it is an effusive collection of feelings, emotions and congratulatory praise, where quotes of up to forty lines in length are common, no doubt quoted from memory. Prof. Bloom is praising Shakespeare to the heavens, and praises himself for having the good sense to have read Shakespeare. Prof. Bloom's arrogance is overwhelming. You'd never know that Shakespeare was just an ordinary, self-deprecating, fallible writer who was as capable of writing a clunker like "The Winter's Tale" or "Taming of the Shrew" as much as producing an eternal masterpiece like "Hamlet" or "Lear". Every page of this remarkable work produces a self-affirming sentence of aphoristic pithiness. No evidence is required or given: Prof. Bloom is his own validation, his self-assurance conquers everything. So too does his bizarre and boringly repetitive obsession with just a few characters, most notably Falstaff. Prof. Bloom admits that "sometimes I amuse myself by imagining what would happen if Shakespeare had presented Falstaff with Prince Hamlet instead of Prince Hal". Oh how we laughed over that one. "I have a preternatural memory", Prof. Bloom modestly informs us: perhaps that's why he "silently repunctuates" the works of Shakespeare for himself. This book can be recommended on only two grounds. Firstly, it is a mammoth work of mammoth self-confidence, and it remains inspirational in its dogged determination to be unbowed by the strictures of common opinion or fact (Prof. Bloom attributes the Ur-Hamlet to Shakespeare himself, rather than to Thomas Kyd, presumably because Prof. Bloom feels only a genius like Shakespeare could produce such a play and such a character as the Prince). Secondly, this book is a great laugh: we can laugh at Prof. Bloom as he unintentionally ridicules himself, or as he intentionally ridicules himself (calling himself, in a marvellously pretentious echo of Joyce, "Bloom Brontosaurus Bardolator"; or finally admitting his own likeness to Falstaff). From the pompous outset, 'Shakespeare's Universalism', to the outrageous coda, 'The Shakespearean Difference', Bloom bombards the reader with a preposterous arsenal of boasts in a work which can be described as little more than an orotund and self-inflating encomium. In summation, you should read this book only to provide eternal amusement. It will teach you very little about Shakespeare. Prof. Bloom has quite clearly only read two plays - "Hamlet" and "Henry IV Part One". He loves Hamlet and Falstaff to distraction, to the expense of any pretention to criticism or objectivity. Prof. Bloom in the "Western Canon" has already posited the idea that Shakespeare is the centre of the canon, the touchstone for writers who not only came after him, but even those who came before! Dante and Chaucer and Virgil and Homer were clearly waiting for the Swan of Avon to bloom. Prof. Bloom gives us this enormous magnus opus for his own satisfaction, but it is unlikely to be any help for the aspiring student: he wallows in his corpulent day-dreams on two characters and two plays, and leaves the rest of the world to get on with analysis and argument.
Rating:
Summary: Bully for Bloom.
Review: If someone gets their own pulpit in which to pontificate upon Shakespeare, we may as well be grateful that it's Harold Bloom. His judgments constantly provoke a "Right on!" response--when he demonstrates the interpretative inadequacies of the Marxist or gender theorists, for example; or when he celebrates Hamlet and Falstaff as opposite sides of the same coin, together constituting Shakespeare's supreme creation of character. (How sad that so many of today's students find Falstaff nothing more than a disgusting, cowardly man whose only function is to vindicate the Prince's dismissal of him.) And though Bloom's case about the "invention of the human" is overstated he, for the most part, is successful in exposing the modern, existential sensibility and dynamic, complex life of the consciousness that is the hallmark of Shakespeare's best character creations. But he disappoints when he takes his sights off of Shakespeare in favor of addressing the bad (ie. political) readers of Shakespeare. In fact, one wonders if he isn't creating a number of straw men--the readers who find "Taming of the Shrew" a shamefully sexist play, for example, or who champion Caliban as a post-colonial hero-rebel. Moreover, this need to represent and address his critics--real or imagined--is especially irritating when he falls short of a counterargument to an interpretation he holds up as "wrong." For example, he quotes Kate's entire "women are simple" speech and then, without offering any intepretation of it, simply suggests anyone who doesn't find it ironic has got to be a fool. With Caliban, he goes a bit further to discredit sympathetic readings of the character, even quoting a generous section of Robert Browning's "Caliban Upon Setebos." But why not go further yet, showing us what Caliban actually is (perhaps the naive, idealogical readers Bloom has in mind, the scholars who go more by the "book" than the "imagination"). Bloom has all of the right instincts about Shakespeare ("It's not about politics, stupid. It's about language as a uniquely human attribute. And Shakespeare manifests its workings more fully than any other author.") But I'm afraid he unwittingly reveals that a large ego can be just as much an obstacle to interpreting Shakespeare as French critical theory or party-line academic politics. This book is frequently insightful, well-written, and useful, but it could have been much better, especially in view of the general audience for whom it is aimed, had its author been more consistently mindful of his own calling as teacher. Unfortunately, Bloom seems to have misread Chaucer's description of the clerk: For "Gladly would he lerne and teche," substitute "Gladly would he lerne and speche."
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