I just saw this on Wikipedia:

I remember the astonishment I felt when I first read Shakespeare. I expected to receive a powerful esthetic pleasure, but having read, one after the other, works regarded as his best: “King Lear”, “Romeo and Juliet”, “Hamlet” and “Macbeth,” not only did I feel no delight, but I felt an irresistible repulsion and tedium…

Several times I read the dramas and the comedies and historical plays, and I invariably underwent the same feelings: repulsion, weariness, and bewilderment. At the present time, before writing this preface, being desirous once more to test myself, I have, as an old man of seventy-five, again read the whole of Shakespeare, including the historical plays, the “Henrys,” “Troilus and Cressida,” the “Tempest,” “Cymbeline,” and I have felt, with even greater force, the same feelings,—this time, however, not of bewilderment, but of firm, indubitable conviction that the unquestionable glory of a great genius which Shakespeare enjoys, and which compels writers of our time to imitate him and readers and spectators to discover in him non-existent merits,—thereby distorting their aesthetic and ethical understanding,—is a great evil, as is every untruth.
Tolstoy on Shakespeare. 1906.

I think if it’s Tolstoy, then he has the right to say it, even though he may not appreciate the true genius of Shakespeare. (Personally, I have read neither of the novelists in substantial quantity to make a comment, and even if I did, I would feel too insecure about making any judgmental analysis. But, Tolstoy can.

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