The Fault is Not in our Stars, but in our Supporting Cast

Celebrate Shakespeare Day with more than a good book.

If reading the latest batch of books about the 2024 presidential election has already made you feel “burdened by what has been,” plan to pursue a more timeless perspective, from a very different author, on April 23.

This is when the world celebrates Shakespeare Day. Experts say the date is an anniversary of the legendary British playwright’s birth (in 1564), or his death (in 1616), or both.

William Shakespeare, a brilliant wordsmith and master storyteller, showed a profound level of discernment about leadership—and human nature—in ways rarely equaled today.

We typically divide Shakespeare’s plays (37, 38 or more, counting collaborations) into histories, tragedies and comedies. But his masterpieces transcend categories as he explores life’s essential themes. You’ll notice they are the same subjects pervading the politics of last year, and every year.

These complex truths range from the meaning of life and death to extremes of joy, sorrow, hope and hatred. The genius from Stratford-upon-Avon depicted conflicts and quests driven by pride, power, retribution and resentment, as well as resistance to great danger and injustice.

Ben Crystal, an actor and educator whose Shakespeare on Toast: Getting a Taste for the Bard emerged as a handbook in 2015, suggests we have much to learn, or relearn, about storytelling.

The insights which Shakespeare fleshed out will resonate if we let them. We can understand—and empathize with—the authentic characters he shaped, Crystal says in a video “master class” found on YouTube.

“He wrote plays about what it means to be human,” this drama coach explains. “Shakespeare leaves so much space for us,” inviting a “communication of the heart” that allows actors and audience members alike to invest their emotions and experiences in heroes (Henry V or Hamlet?), villains (Lady Macbeth or Iago?), and secondary figures (Falstaff or the Three Witches?).

In today’s tell-all books reviewing a nearly surreal campaign season, authors make much ado about the remarkable cast of protagonists, including President Trump, President Biden, and Vice President Harris. This storytelling properly focuses on plot lines, not the multi-dimensional exploration of iconic figures and adventures where Shakespeare excels.

The plots of 2024 leave us to make our own judgments about who is heroic or villainous, what is tragic or comic. Too often, we’ve drawn shallow conclusions based on pre-existing filters like party alignments, talking points, our gut-level reactions and the latest red flags from our favorite pundits.

Recall that, not long after Trump’s first election, New York City’s Shakespeare in the Park festival evoked audiences’ gut-level reactions by making its Julius Caesar character resemble the president. In summer 2017 performances, the assassination scene “left space” for the on-stage stabbing of Trump-Caesar, with blood staining his white shirt.

This year, despite our ongoing consumption of clickbait and the polarizing political news critical of one party or the other, thoughtful Americans may want less crude theatricality. Performative bombing of cars and violence against persons still make messages heard, but the frequent reaction is “this is getting out of hand.” Across the political spectrum, our attention is moving toward core concerns. We crave comprehensive, consensus-building assessments of weighty phenomena roiling POTUS 47 and his opponents.

Whoopi Goldberg sided with the seekers of balance and context last week on The View. “Maybe some of what’s happening … [particularly, decentralizing Education Department programs] … is a good thing,” she opined, “because maybe it will force us to make sure our kids actually get what they need…. This is now in our hands.”

Meanwhile, philosopher-comic Bill Maher makes news by scolding so many points of view, it’s hard to guess whose hands are clapping. He varies his critiques because, as he said on last week’s Real Time with Bill Maher, “Life’s complicated.”

Voters have suspected for a while that these are pivotal times in our history. Now, amid the sound and fury of 2025, truly curious citizens sense an opportunity—more like a duty—to make choices about what all the rapid changes should signify.

We’re in perilous times. We’re told this by such books as The Fourth Turning Is Here, in which age-cohort theorist Neil Howe warns that the sociological stars have aligned for an imminent, turbulent transformation in society. He sees patterns among baby boomers and all generations foretelling high-stakes crises like wars or cultural upheavals.

Freed from the adrenaline and venom of an election year, many of us hope to piece together truths about people, trends, ideas and themes—and about us as a nation. Some revelations will be uncomfortable, surprising or mysterious, but we try to grapple with them.

Axios co-founders Jim VandeHei and Mike Allen, in an early April podcast, combined optimism and pessimism about our efforts to figure out today’s politics.

Interviewed by Bari Weiss on Honestly, Allen gave this mixed review: “There’s more information, more insight, more reality available to you than ever … but it also puts a burden on us as news consumers to be savvier about where we’re picking up these different parts of our info soup.” Their discussion touched on how words are losing their meanings and individuals are creating their own realities.

Allen, whose career comprises no-nonsense stories built on accurate, tightly written facts, acknowledged his work is not enough. We need to expand our collective lens, going beyond conventional reporting to comprehend today’s big picture.

He described the Trump administration’s eccentric protagonists, and he noted that multiple “tectonic plates” are in motion. They include turbulence in the two parties, rampant growth in artificial intelligence and the new media’s twists on how we communicate and decide what’s true, according to Allen.

“This is Shakespeare,” he said. “A thousand years from now, people will study these characters, what’s happening. You could pick any week of the 11 weeks there have been [in Trump’s term at that time], and you could write a book about it. People will.”

A complicated, confusing world like ours does indeed need help from the Bard of the Elizabethan era. Sadly, he’s not around to write any of the books now seizing journalistic attention.

Nor should we want Shakespeare confined to new downloads for our Kindles. We need immersive experiences not from books, but from a special genre; in other words, “The play’s the thing.” Theaters hold “the mirror up to nature.” (Both lines are from Hamlet.)

We might wish William would pen more scripts, but let’s confess that the dramas our democracy awaits—tragedies, comedies or both—are ours to write and produce. The Bard can only offer inspiration.

He might suggest more coherent story arcs, where people share certain truths but are motivated by their own mix of principles, purposes and passions.

These traits are far from transparent, assuming we possess them at all (or they possess us). We must come to understand them, and better reckon with them, by conscientiously observing behaviors, inherent qualities, and errant trajectories. For better and for worse, what we observe in others will become visible in ourselves.

Starting on Shakespeare Day, we should strive to embrace human nature with all its paradoxical qualities and flaws. We should approach people, especially our government leaders, with genuine curiosity and empathy to understand their stories on multiple levels.

We’re looking for their authentic selves, not their narratives or “main-character energy.” And we also demand that they reflect us, listening to the nation’s full range of voices.

Of course, we remain free to laugh and razz when politicians serve up “comedies of errors.” But avoid heckling and derision, gratuitous and grotesque distractions. These are beneath the dignity of the theater, especially when it’s spelled “theatre.”

Drama coach Crystal reminds us to aim high for “communication of the heart.” Immersion in complex reality requires peaceable respect, along with a sense of wonder and urgency.

Our role, then, is to become a better audience, receptive to timeless lessons which transcend the hearsay and hot takes gluing us to our screens. Imagine we are the throngs filling the Globe Theatre. We’re all in this together, preparing for a shared future even as we connect with vibrant impressions from the past.

We will not be in theaters most of the time, but we can write and refine the story arc of our democracy on many platforms—in town hall meetings, gatherings of civil society and debates in the public square, physical or virtual.

If we’re inspired by Shakespeare and the meaningful eloquence he gave to so many hearts, minds and quests, today’s tell-all books and political plot lines will only supplement, not burden, our vantage point as a proactive audience. We’ll beg to differ with just one phrase from As You Like It. Yes, the world’s a stage, but we’re more than merely players.

Image from Microsoft Co-Pilot’s AI imaging tool.

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