I marvel at the simplicity of you can never say it鈥檚 the worst as long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst as a piece of humor. Hard to imagine that it could be humor, given that it shows up in one of the unfunniest moments in King Lear, but Shakespeare is good for it. Edgar has just caught sight of his father, Gloucester, who had wronged him over nothing and rendered him a fugitive in his own country. Much has happened since then. Gloucester has been blinded by guests in his own house, and the way he has been blinded defies the English language鈥攈is eyes are not quite 鈥渃lawed out鈥� or 鈥渟cooped out鈥� or 鈥減ut out.鈥�
Edgar sees what has been done to his father and exclaims, 鈥淥 gods! Who is 鈥檛 can say 鈥淚 am at the worst?鈥� I am worse than e’er I was.鈥� And then he says to himself, 鈥淎nd worse I may be yet; the worst is not so long as we can say, 鈥楾his is the worst.鈥欌�� Edgar will then proceed to escort Gloucester to the 鈥渃liffs鈥� of 鈥淒over鈥� where he鈥檒l trick him out of a suicide. And all that time he will keep up the impersonation he has taken on in exile, although, like Kent鈥檚 disguise, Edgar鈥檚 disguise is somewhat pointless. Gloucester can鈥檛 see and didn鈥檛 pay that much attention to his son in the first place鈥揹idn鈥檛 know distinguishing features, such as his handwriting, for example. And tricking him out of the suicide will also be somewhat pointless as we learn later that Gloucester dies anyway, later, by suicide or of a broken heart.
Edgar鈥檚 鈥渢he worst is not so long as we can say 鈥楾his is the worst鈥欌�� is low-hanging fruit as far as profundity and word play goes. It鈥檚 for the working man, a Kent of labors, requiring almost no wit, no delivery, no knowledge of who Renata Adler is. It鈥檚 even easier to remember than Gloucester鈥檚 shovel-ready flies to boys as we to the Gods. Still, Edgar鈥檚 exact wording still slips from my mind. I can never quote it correctly. I鈥檇 like to think that Lear is a play for people who can鈥檛 remember shit but who still want to do a thing or two with words.
With two friends I have kept up this joke for years now鈥攄oing some version of 鈥測ou can never say it is the worst as long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst鈥� in texts, emails, and phone conversations.
My friend Matt Hunter, who is an early modernist, tells me that while he sees in the lines the consolation of deixis (things are not at rock bottom so long as you can still say this is that), his students tell him it鈥檚 because you鈥檙e not dead. That鈥檚 why it鈥檚 never the worst so long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst, and not because language can never rise to the occasion of a true predicament blah blah blah. You can never say it鈥檚 the worst so long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst right now BECAUSE AT LEAST YOU鈥橰E NOT DEAD. Who can even argue with that. Matt has written about Shakespearean characters in extremis, like Lear, who use words that are so far removed from what people normally say that the words are disbelieved and the situation is disbelieved. People think, this sounds incredible, not like real human speech, because this anguish is incredible, not like something that actually happens. That鈥檚 a real bitch, but still likely not the worst. That鈥檚 our running joke: every time we see a new bad take on Shakespeare, or a new darkness that Shakespeare unlocked, we say this is the absolute worst Jesus Christ, and then we say it鈥檚 not the worst so long as we can say it is the worst. And soon it begins to sound like you are not living the life you want to live because you are living the life you do not want to live.
My friend Jane Hu sneaks up on me with you cannot say it鈥檚 the worst as long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst. At the most unexpected moments they come. You鈥檙e happily living your life, having completely forgotten about the word, 鈥渨orst,鈥� and there she is. I鈥檇 sacrifice hecatombs for that kind of humor. Jane is also writing about Chinese sadness and the fact that some stories can only be told through literary criticism. Love鈥檚 Labors Lost is one of our communicating doors, between our rooms and between our rooms and history. We share a culturally-specific affinity for the very idea of it, of love鈥檚 labors lost, and a culturally-specific fear for the play鈥檚 argument that all respites are brief. Walk through Love鈥檚 Labors Lost and you end up in Lear. Jane and I talk about the way bullying works in Lear and its relationship to 鈥渃rimes of negligence,鈥� her coinage. Crimes of negligence, which is such an elegant phrase, show up in Lear in equal measure with bullying, a childish, porky word that somehow discredits those who use it to complain about what has been done to them. Bullying, Jane says, is a transcendental form: you have to transcend it. That would begin with the fact that this is one of those instances where the English word is not quite fit for purpose.
In my class we practice one-downmanship in our remembrances of the plot. A student of mine, Sajiv Mehta, wrote a paper that called the Gloucester side plot a form of 鈥減andering.鈥� 鈥淧andering鈥� is a surprising choice but what he meant by that is that Gloucester鈥檚 plight is easier to 鈥済et鈥� than Lear鈥檚 serves to make Lear鈥檚 plight more difficult to appreciate: blinding is much more severe and obviously injurious than being sent out into a storm (or, more accurately, than storming out and not being welcomed back, the doors simply closed behind you just as it鈥檚 about to storm). Having one good son and one bad son is 鈥渃leaner鈥� than whatever you wish to call Lear鈥檚 relationship to his three daughters. 鈥淧andering鈥� is about making something easy at the expense of something else. Sajiv鈥檚 paper is then another example of it鈥檚 not the worst as long as you can say it鈥檚 the worst. It鈥檚 the worst when you鈥檝e had a great unkindness done to you that somehow doesn鈥檛 sound that bad when you tell it to others. What鈥檚 worse than that? A pedagogically useful second example appears鈥攁 friendly twin, if you will鈥攂ut the twin somehow discredits your situation and your situation somehow discredits theirs.
One way to double check one鈥檚 conclusions about a work of literature is to subject it to a worseness test. We may have judged Gloucester too harshly for not being able to tell what鈥檚 not his own son鈥檚 handwriting and falling for Edmund鈥檚 stupid ploy. Maybe, just maybe, the two brothers do have similar handwriting because they are brothers and are similar. That鈥檚 demonstrably worse than the other case, I think.
You cannot say it is the best so long as you can say it is the best. Does that work? It does not. 鈥淲orst鈥� is a possible evaluation when there鈥檚 a finite set: among these five things, this is the worst. The word cannot signify itself with an infinite set. Why doesn鈥檛 the same logic extend to 鈥渂est鈥�? It might be because, in the other case, it鈥檚 because you鈥檙e not dead.
Nan Z. Da is associate professor of English at Johns Hopkins University and the author of Intransitive Encounters: Sino-US Literatures and the Limits of Exchange.