I've read the works of a number of Nobel Prize for Lit laureates: 67 of them are represented on my shelves, and with this work read, I've gotten through 50 of them. With this many out of the way, you start to get a sense of who gets picked when, where, and why, and if you think Shaw, for all his being Irish and a socialist, is a tad...tame, compared to the majority of those laureates who never spoke English or sojourned in a men's club, you wouldn't be the only one. Sure, other winners have gone for the satirical jugular, but how many of them were as extraordinarily comfortable with the highfalutin supersubtle singularity that is English comedy as this author? And yet, this text certainly has its charms without sacrificing its wit, and if you followed the arguments back to their contextual source (especially with Shaw's original play ending and 1942 afterword in hand), you'd be forgiven in thinking that there's rather a nice compromise between what was good ol' fun then and of most vital necessity now. It's about as much of a 'feminist revolution' as Ibsen's was back in the day, but considering where we were when Shaw put pen to paper and lies we tell ourselves about how far we've come today, it's worth reminding ourselves that certain kinds of progress, the real true kind, still need to be made.

Long before a thinker with the surname of Bourdieu started spouting off about a concept called habitus, folks all over were recognizing the various lingua francas of human society, especially those correlating to those hierarchies that those up top are so keen on inflicting on everyone else. I'd be surprised if Shaw were the first to have constructed a creative work using the subject as its main conceit, but this piece of his is certainly one of the better known examples in the literary world. The popularity is certainly helped by a bevy of social signifiers that tend to magnify one's influence in the "Western" part of the literate world (Nobel Prize, Oscar, one letter off from the WASP), but as someone who's dealt with more than their fair share of the classics whose intended medium is the theatre, this work isn't half bad at all. It moves along at a good pace without drowning itself in contemporaneous references, efficiently draws up extremely distinguishable characters without compromising their presentation as a complex human being, and the linguistic interplay is, of course, the highlight in its sophisticated yet still understandable conceit as setting, plot, and even character development. Even the ultra grungy nature of my 1966 library discard edition, acquired at a long ago book sale of my youth, added to the charm with a hefty dose of nostalgia, especially with the digressing yet pertinent afterword Shaw saw fit to append to the closing of the play in 1942. All in all, it was a decently entertaining jaunt with a well thought out and ultimately satisfying ending, to the point that I wouldn't mind seeing the play live. The musical and the film adaptations that hamstring the ending, though, unless I'm in so dire a need for a pick me up that my critical thinking skills are relapsing, I'm fine with passing by.

We're about a month and a half into the year of 2023, and so far, my reading has had its fair share of both welcome surprises and far from fulfilled expectations. This work certainly ended up being far more of the former than I would have imagined, and while I have no interest at the moment in Shaw's other works, it is nice to know that a self proclaimed socialist is so close to the bosom of the kyriarchy's love affair with itself. Of course, a historical figure such as this couldn't possibly make it to the 21st century without the WASP dudebros over at Wikipedia muttering darkly about "liberal fascists" and the like, and I will admit that Shaw's written takes on eugenics and Hitler are impossible to pin down one way or another given his satirical bent. But when all else fails, that's the nice thing about 'death of the author': sometimes, it really is a matter of taking what you can get and caring more about keeping the good folks alive than arguing semantics about the dead. So, I'm not about to proclaim Shaw a favorite or anything like that, but if I had to pick a white dude with both a Nobel and an Oscar to his name, he'd certainly be in my corner, wittily murmuring away.

My parents were engaged the night they saw My Fair Lady on Broadway, about a month after it opened.

That's why I wanted to read this and I'm very glad I did. The author certainly reflects his time. We've come along way baby!

This was a book I've been meaning to read for quite some time. I liked it a lot.

Pygmalion had really great messages, especially for the time, about social classes and female empowerment. Eliza really did kick some ass (metaphorically... although there was some shoe throwing too) for the early 20th century. I really liked Eliza and her journey as well as her ending. Higgins was, of course (as was the point I think), annoying by the end. Overall, the messages and especially the main female character were my favourite points about the play.