Macbeth may well be the most terrifying play in the English language,
but it hasn't always been seen that way. It has divided critics more
deeply than any other Shakespearian tragedy - and the argument, in
essence, has been about just how terrifying the play really is and about
how we should react, or do react, to Macbeth himself. No Shakespearian
tragedy gives as much attention to its hero as Macbeth. With the
exception of Lady Macbeth, there is much less emphasis on the figures
round the hero than there is in Hamlet or Othello. Unlike King Lear,
with its parallel story of Gloucester and his sons, Macbeth has no
sub-plot. And its imagery of sharp contrasts - of day and night, light
and dark, innocent life and murder - adds to the almost claustrophobic
intensity of this most intense of plays. So why are critics so divided
about Macbeth? Why is it so disturbing? Why do we feel compelled to
admire its hero even as we condemn him? How reassuring is the last
scene, when Macbeth is killed and Malcolm becomes king? Do we see this
as the intervention of a divine providence, a restoration of goodness
after all the evil? Or do we see instead signs that the whole cycle of
violence and murder could be about to begin all over again? And what
does the play really tell us about good and evil? In this book Graham
Bradshaw answers these questions, and shows how it is only in recent
years that the extent of Shakespeare's achievement in Macbeth, and the
nature of his vision in the play, has really been grasped.
