Good Ol' America: Who is Her Shakespeare? Does She Even Have One?

Sometimes, when I’m feeling sorry for myself, I despair about the lack of focus in my life. During such grumblings, I wish I had a more defined identity, or, in other words, I think about how great I could have been, or could have excelled, at one thing IF I would have focused on just one of my interests. Instead, because I seem to be fascinated with a multitude of things (reading, writing, teaching, biking, hiking, cooking, wine, socializing, family, movies, theatre, sports, dogs, etc.), I feel as if I’m pretty good at a lot of things, but not excellent at one major thing. Now, don’t get me wrong: this isn’t a pity party; there are much worse things to be worried about, and I have long ago accepted that I am easily distracted (I like to think of myself as a Renaissance woman). I am just exploring who I am, and what factors in to my identity. Am I the quintessential American—a fortunate individual who has been allowed so many freedoms that I take advantage of them, but in the process, occasionally feel sidetracked from reaching my full potential? Well, I guess to answer this question, what it means to be “American” needs to be defined. What comprises our nation’s identity (a seemingly impossible question to adequately answer, but I’ll give it a go)?

My thoughts regarding the character of America developed from a book review of Stuart Kelly’s Scott-land: The Man who Invented a Nation in The Economist (http://www.economist.com/node/16690869?story_id=16690869). Although the reviewer found the text unfocused and a bit amateurish, he does come to a clear conclusion after his assessment: Sir Walter Scott, a prolific Scottish poet and novelist of the early 19th century, was a “genius” responsible for shaping Scotland’s national identity. All of this man’s work, his authorship—particularly his historical novels—played an enormous role in giving Scotland a distinct sense of self, a collective uniqueness, just as Shakespeare had done for England. Understandably, there are naysayers who repudiate Scott, believing his impact was not as significant (Twain and Ruskin among them), but nonetheless, Scott’s immense popularity extended beyond Scotland, and can hardly be denied.

Regardless of Scott’s actual amount of influence, this notion of how literature and authorship define a nation’s identity struck home. Which author(s) best characterizes America, land of the free and home of the brave? How has American literature shaped the country’s identity, if you believe it has? Who is our Shakespeare? When trying to answer this question, it was extremely difficult for me to narrow down the choices to one or even two authors. Washington? Jefferson? Hmmm. It was easy to come up with regional authors who most appropriately formulated a certain area’s uniqueness: East, Hawthorne; South, Twain, Stowe, and Faulkner; Midwest, Hemingway and Fitzgerald (though I don’t know if that would really be applicable; France and Spain might be more accurate); West, Steinbeck and Stegner; where do you fit in, Melville? ;) The East? The wild sea? I guess that “leaves” me with Walt Whitman, the “poet of democracy,” who I think is actually a pretty good choice, in terms of how he changed how America thought of herself; if I had to pick one author, he’s the one. I’m sure there a ton of other authors who I have not listed here that seem more appropriate to you (Emerson, Dickinson, Kerouac, McCarthy, etc.), but I think that’s the point: we are a nation comprised of many authors, and everyone will have a different idea of who has influenced America’s nationhood the most. Our identity, then, is an amalgamation of lots of things. We are a melting pot of cultures, correct, so a lack of a strict sense of self practically seems normal. Instead of fighting my many interests and tendency towards distraction, maybe I should celebrate my freedom and ability to actually pursue my intrigues. I think Whitman put it best when he claimed “Be curious, not judgmental.” Maybe I should stop judging myself so harshly, and allow my curiousity to thrive.

But is this lack of a clear American identity a good thing? Aren’t many countries considered melting pots these days? What do you think? If it’s clearer to you, please lend me your thoughts. After all, I think the relevance of a nation’s quality and characterization is always relevant and meaningful, and should not be taken for granted. Entities across the globe are constantly fighting to identify themselves, to stand for something in particular that’s separate from other countries/groups (Kosovo and Catalonia, for example); can we—can literature—shape and appropriately define America, or is her identity always in flux?

--Shelley