Shakespeare next year? I would do this with you. I even have my grandfather's copy of the complete works on my shelf, doing not much of anything. We could try to read the same stuff at the same time.
You know what I would like even more than reading Shakespeare? Reading it out loud. My baby sister was up to visit last spring, and she was reading Shakespeare for a class. (For reference, the baby sister is teenage and taller than I am. She is the baby sister in contrast to my adult sister, two years younger and a VERY IMPORTANT eighth of an inch shorter than me.) Her reading was pretty halting, so I started reading aloud to her. It was surprisingly lovely. She may be taller, and I may push her off curbs regularly, but she is not so big that she will not cuddle close when we read. So we sat close and I read aloud, and I checked in about whether she was following. She was. Then I noticed that others in the family would drift near and linger. We'd look up to see if that meant we should set the table, but no, they gestured. Keep reading.
It didn't last all that long, because we were in and out of doing other things. It isn't like we are a terribly cultured family that reads classics to each other*. But it did give me the idea that reading Shakespeare out loud is more engrossing than you'd think, even if you thought it would be some engrossing. So I'd love to do my part that way, but organizing it is hard and weirdo. I don't usually have a kid conveniently assigned to read Shakespeare at hand. What would I do? It is mildly plausible that I could put out word over the Ultimate lists and a few people would also be interested.** Listening and reading salons aren't a done thing these days***, but maybe some people have a secret yen. And then, when would I do this? I workout every evening, but it seems like half an hour at a time is about the right length, and how would I ever arrange that to do that regularly? Perhaps I will come home from weightlifting and read Shakespeare to my cat.
Anyway, reading Shakespeare is totally a project I would do, except that, you know, I have a big project that I'm not working on. I haven't forgotten that I said I'd write a book about Los Osos. I never quit anything. I don't know how. I'm not actually writing, or working on the project, but I haven't either decided that I'm not doing it. That means writing that book is still a live option and the current decision. Should I be saying I'll do other things when I haven't done the first things? Should I be letting the thought of something I'm not actually doing stop me from taking on fun ideas?
*By pure coincidence, my younger nephew's name references two famous jazz musicians. This leads people more cultured than we are to grant us undeserved cachet.
**You know who is as likely to be interested as anyone? The Generation Awesome kids I hang out with sometimes. They, like, play bike polo on fixies and get drunk lots. They could be accused of being hipsters. But they are also up for anything. Goofy obscure thing? YES! We're on our way. First to the party, in theme regalia? ABSOLUTELY. Big mainstream something? LOVE THAT. They're there. I love being around them so much. They're doers to the core, so if it sounded at all tempting to them, they'd show up.
***You know what else needs a revival? Letters of introduction. Like, paper letters, that accompany the visitor. The important thing about this is that people should feel a slight obligation to deliver the letter. See, I tell my two friends in Portland, say... Sherry and Karen, that they need to meet each other and both agree that that is very likely true, and then nothing happens. But if I gave one a letter of introduction and that person felt obliged to present it in person, then, I don't know, Sherry and Karen would have at least one meeting. If they don't like each other, which is impossible, they would discreetly never do it again and doubt my matchmaking. If they do, which is the obvious outcome, neither would feel awkward, since I was the one who imposed the obligation all the way from the other side of the country. So letters of introduction need to return to vogue, and you should send them through very witty and handsome men, and they might as well present themselves and the letter at my salons, where we discuss that daring new theory by that scandalous Darwin fellow.