Entre vous

(Photo from http://www.centralpark2000.com/database/romeo.html)
I was walking through NYC's Central Park last fall (long before the advent of the Home Depot curtain display) and heard two fellows discussing Shakespeare's statue. One asked the other what a sonnet was. His guidebook referred to Shakespeare's sonnets, and here he was, looking at the guy in bronze tights, and he didn't know what they were. The first guy, an amiable sort, scratched his head and said he wasn't sure. I, of course, being the nosy sort who actually knew the answer to the question, gave them a brief definition. They were grateful, but not impressed.
Of course, all of this got me to thinking about public sculpture and literature. Take New York's Central Park, for example.
Statues bring literature alive. Kids shriek delightedly (OK, so did I the first time) when they see Alice and her Wonderland pals in the park. They're made to climb on. They're made to touch and talk to. They're made to enter the story in a tangible way. Once they've finished playing with them, the kids are part of Wonderland forever.
Even casual passersby can't help but notice Romeo and Juliet at the Delacourte Theater. True, they probably never kissed this way. And their slinky bodies are more 20th century New York than 16th century Verona, but it's their passion frozen in time they're looking at. And nearby stands the "sound and fury signifying" everything in the bronze Tempest. Playgoers from Shakespeare in the Park can touch a relic of what they've just seen on stage. Somehow the ephemeral art of the stage lives on. Sculpture anchors you.
And so it goes. Not only authors but their stories end up in parks and squares around the world. And it's the stories that win. Sure- looking at a sculpture of the bard is interesting, but not in the same visceral way that engaging with his characters or scenes are. It's all about immediacy. And, in general, we know a helluva lot more about the stories than we do about their writers. We really are greeting old friends who are always there waiting for us the way the stories themselves are.
Next time, authors in public places...