Shylock.”
“Wow,” Kat retorted with wide eyes. “That’s awesome! Shakespeare scholars the world over will be peeing themselves in excitement at your amazing insight!”
Carter chuckled. “Okay, Peaches,” he replied. “ ‘I am a Jew …’ ”
Kat’s mouth popped open. She listened to him quote the entire speech without looking once at the page in front of him. Instead, his eyes bored into hers, blue and bright. Hearing him speak Shakespeare’s words was indescribably erotic. His eyes burned with a passion Shylock would no doubt have conveyed to the courts as he expressed his anger at the wrongdoing that had befallen him.
Trying hard to remain composed, Kat said, “Impressive. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “It’s mainly about revenge. He’s understandably pissed about the way he’s been treated because of his religion and he vows to match the ‘villainy’ with his own. Only his ‘villainy’ will be a lot worse. Shylock’s a badass.”
“So, does that excuse Solanio and Salerio’s treatment of him? He’s a badass; surely he deserves everything that comes to him?”
Carter scoffed. “They’re only treating him that way because they’re narrow-minded shits who see nothing but a label on Shylock. For them, ‘Jew’ means ‘evil.’ But the blatant anti-Semitism isn’t the most important aspect of the play or speech.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” Carter replied, firmly sitting forward. “Shylock says, ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?’ He’s making the point that no matter his religion, or label or whatever, he is human just like the bastards who treated him like shit. People everywhere, every day, make judgments about others because of their color, religion, background, race, sexual orientation … criminal history.”
He glanced up at her.
“The world is a shitty place, and Shylock’s the only one in the entire play with the balls to make a point about it. The irony that the supposed unintelligent, evil, uneducated Jew has such courage is what makes the shit important. The fact that he’s a Jew is simply a plot device.” He exhaled and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “Shakespeare could have made him an inmate at Arthur Kill if such a place existed then.”
Kat was astounded. His fervor made her wonder what bigotry he’d encountered to make him sympathize with the character so much. Had he been treated a certain way because of his time in prison?
He slumped back, grazing the back of his hand against her knee, and her breath caught at the contact. “People think he’s barbaric because he promises revenge, but who the fuck can blame him? If they’ve labeled him as such, why shouldn’t he live up to it?”
“He could have surprised people,” Kat answered, noticing a definite change in the tone of the discussion. “He could have behaved differently, calmly, and shown that he was a good person.”
Carter shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If the shoe fits—or the label.” He pointed to himself. “Criminal. There’s no amount of good that erases that shit. It’s easier to live up to people’s expectations than try to change them. It avoids disappointment for all involved.”
Kat frowned. “Then why are you here, and why have I said that I’ll help you get parole and put up with your grumpy ass for potentially another twelve months?”
Carter smiled briefly. “I don’t know, Peaches. Why did you?”
Kat kept her eyes on him for a long time before dropping them to the play. “I have my reasons.”
“Your own pound of flesh.”
Her head snapped up at his words, but he was busy playing with the cigarette box. He took a deep breath. “And I’m here because … I had to be.” Confused, Kat opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “Did you really mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“That you’ll carry
“Wow,” Kat retorted with wide eyes. “That’s awesome! Shakespeare scholars the world over will be peeing themselves in excitement at your amazing insight!”
Carter chuckled. “Okay, Peaches,” he replied. “ ‘I am a Jew …’ ”
Kat’s mouth popped open. She listened to him quote the entire speech without looking once at the page in front of him. Instead, his eyes bored into hers, blue and bright. Hearing him speak Shakespeare’s words was indescribably erotic. His eyes burned with a passion Shylock would no doubt have conveyed to the courts as he expressed his anger at the wrongdoing that had befallen him.
Trying hard to remain composed, Kat said, “Impressive. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “It’s mainly about revenge. He’s understandably pissed about the way he’s been treated because of his religion and he vows to match the ‘villainy’ with his own. Only his ‘villainy’ will be a lot worse. Shylock’s a badass.”
“So, does that excuse Solanio and Salerio’s treatment of him? He’s a badass; surely he deserves everything that comes to him?”
Carter scoffed. “They’re only treating him that way because they’re narrow-minded shits who see nothing but a label on Shylock. For them, ‘Jew’ means ‘evil.’ But the blatant anti-Semitism isn’t the most important aspect of the play or speech.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” Carter replied, firmly sitting forward. “Shylock says, ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?’ He’s making the point that no matter his religion, or label or whatever, he is human just like the bastards who treated him like shit. People everywhere, every day, make judgments about others because of their color, religion, background, race, sexual orientation … criminal history.”
He glanced up at her.
“The world is a shitty place, and Shylock’s the only one in the entire play with the balls to make a point about it. The irony that the supposed unintelligent, evil, uneducated Jew has such courage is what makes the shit important. The fact that he’s a Jew is simply a plot device.” He exhaled and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “Shakespeare could have made him an inmate at Arthur Kill if such a place existed then.”
Kat was astounded. His fervor made her wonder what bigotry he’d encountered to make him sympathize with the character so much. Had he been treated a certain way because of his time in prison?
He slumped back, grazing the back of his hand against her knee, and her breath caught at the contact. “People think he’s barbaric because he promises revenge, but who the fuck can blame him? If they’ve labeled him as such, why shouldn’t he live up to it?”
“He could have surprised people,” Kat answered, noticing a definite change in the tone of the discussion. “He could have behaved differently, calmly, and shown that he was a good person.”
Carter shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If the shoe fits—or the label.” He pointed to himself. “Criminal. There’s no amount of good that erases that shit. It’s easier to live up to people’s expectations than try to change them. It avoids disappointment for all involved.”
Kat frowned. “Then why are you here, and why have I said that I’ll help you get parole and put up with your grumpy ass for potentially another twelve months?”
Carter smiled briefly. “I don’t know, Peaches. Why did you?”
Kat kept her eyes on him for a long time before dropping them to the play. “I have my reasons.”
“Your own pound of flesh.”
Her head snapped up at his words, but he was busy playing with the cigarette box. He took a deep breath. “And I’m here because … I had to be.” Confused, Kat opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “Did you really mean it?”
“Did I mean what?”
“That you’ll carry
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