There are any number of catchy titles for books or essays or plays or anything about Shakespeare and so let me not try to think of another.
There will soon be many things in progress to mark the 400th anniversary of the death of the writer. And why not. The Proms and other such festivals regularly make anniversaries that end in 00, 50, 25 or even 75 a reason to celebrate a creative artist. It shouldn't really need such justification and, in the case of Shakespeare, it usually doesn't. But if only he hadn't gone out drinking with Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton in Stratford on that fateful evening in mid-April, 1616, he might still be with us now.
The reason Shakespeare is quite so famous depends entirely on the writing, and most of that in the plays, but the last time I actually saw a play by him it was a memorably bad Hamlet with Rory Kinnear as the prince looking like Wayne Rooney and I'd seen better Hamlets, supported by better casts, locally than think I should go to the National Theatre to see that. Out of many favourites, I still wonder at the Southsea Shakespeare Actors' production with Fran Lewis, by no means the first girl to play the part as the androgyne, impish prince.
That I've not since been to the theatre to see any play since that bad Hamlet is more to do with lack of suitable opportunity than any trauma suffered as a result of it but, heaven forbid, I have found Shakespeare's life more interesting than his plays- however wrong that might be- ever since hearing about a new way in to the biography. That idea, introduced by my friend, has been mentioned here and elsewhere a few times now - was that the twins, Hamnet and Judith, were not Shakespeare's children by were fathered by his Stratford mate, Hamnet Sadler. The more one comes to accept the idea, the more that the life of Shakespeare can be coherently written. But we are not madmen or conspiracy theorists in search of a chance to make our name. It's just a sensible idea that subverts 420 years of misdirection.
Thus, we have explored that idea more than once here. A few weeks ago there was the summary of why Shakespeare is so very, very likely to have been the author of the work attributed to him and there will soon be the succinct examination of the dedication of the Sonnets, written for a meeting of the Portsmouth Poetry Society.
But there's plenty more to do, which might include a piece on if or why the plays are written in four approximately discrete chapters in the oeuvre (that is, Histories; Comedies; Tragedies; Romances); some thoughts on the identity of the Dark Lady; the provenance of any supposed likeness of the writer and what can be sensibly deduced from the will.
It's early days in the year yet. The anniversary won't be over once April 23 is gone.
David Green
- David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I published booklets of my own poems. The original allocation of ISBN numbers is used up now, though. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become, often more about music than books and not so often about poems. It will be about whatever suggests itself.
