For a novice in reading fiction, I thought after reading a bit of Coelho, one or two Hemingway, or accidentally read Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha thinking that it was a biography of the Buddha (it’s not), I thought I was ready for the big one, THE William Shakespeare.
But as it turns out, no amount of poetries from Rumi or Kahlil Gibran could prepare me for 16th century English. In a prose format. And while The Merchant of Venice is said to be a Shakespearean comedy, I did not laugh even once. Dare I say that this is a bit of a, tragedy? Right, no.
3 stars for now, but will definitely revisit this book in the future when I’m older and perhaps a little bit more posh.