And many, many more. For instance, the popular Nero Wolfe detective novels by Rex Stout, and especially the early ones from the 1930s and 1940s, have a lot of language that shocks 21st-century sensibilities. Even though the author and his main characters plainly abhor bigotry, the language of Archie Goodwin (fictional narrator) is full of slang and casual epithets that would now be frowned upon as demeaning to women, blacks, disabled people, and others.
I read most of those Wolfe novels in the 1970s and didn’t even notice back then how slanted much of the language is. And I was not asleep at the time; I was joining in with group sings of “Blowin’ in the Wind” in the mid-sixties. Still, the language leaps out at me now as I have been rereading the Wolfe series in order over the past few years.
I didn’t mention Mark Twain, though, because his work is primarily on paper and not performed. Shakespeare lives through performance from actual scripts. You can’t go updating his language, putting in footnotes, or positioning a fraught-language-interpreter alongside stage actors to cushion the landing of his expressions. Adaptations of Twain for a performance medium have the opportunity to interpret and set a context.
Even as a believer in reading things in terms of their own historical context to the extent possible, and not holding, say, 19th-century depictions of women to a 21st-century standard, I do find such things difficult to read.
But wouldn’t it be a disservice of another kind to pretend that such biases did not exist?—to try to erase what happened, say, to Oscar Wilde? or the barriers that society set against women?
I often wonder what we are writing, saying, and doing now that will make our descendants shudder a few decades from now, never mind a few centuries. If only we could see plainly how primitive we still are as viewed from some more enlightened future.
If only it would help.