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Showing posts with label Shakespeare - Bill Bryson (Book). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shakespeare - Bill Bryson (Book). Show all posts

Sunday, 1 July 2018

"Shakespeare: The Illustrated Edition' by BILL BRYSON (2009 Reprint in Hardback with CD) - A Review by Mark Barry...




Who Is This William Shakespeare Geezer 
And Why Is Bill Bryson Saying All These Nice Things About Him...

This review is for the 2009 Hardback Reprint of "Shakespeare: The Illustrated Version" with 256 'oversized' pages (it was originally published as a plain-pages version in 2007 entitled "Shakespeare: The World As Stage"). Bryson’s reprint was initially £20 as a hardback but in 2018 is now available on the used marketplace for a lot less and is most definitely the version to own (note that original issues of "The Illustrated Version" also came with an exclusive CD of selected sonnets read by Sir John Gielgud - used copies may not have this).

In this gorgeously illustrated and brilliantly written account of the English language's greatest wordsmith - William Shakespeare - Bill Bryson does a fabulous job of 'informing us'. I mention this because in 2007 when Bryson's original bare-bones variant was published there were some 24 to 25 thousand books on The Bard and what Bryson found so amusing (and frustrating) during years of research is that most knew next-to-diddly about the man. Actual details on WS and what he thought, believed, felt or even how his process of writing came about are scarce and because we’re dealing with the 16th Century – notoriously difficult to confirm as authentic.

Worse - there are then the 5000+ books by debunkers (some with silly surnames like J. Thomas Looney, Sherwood E. Silliman and George M. Battey - I kid you not) who want to say that The Earl Of Sussex (Edward De Vere) was in fact the real Shakespeare. Or was it Christopher Marlowe (his portrait is on Page 123) – or perhaps Francis Bacon - relative of the mildly demented American lady Delia Bacon - say the Baconists? These determined revisionists produce clever suppositions and enticing connections that tell us an obvious truth (to them) – that William Shakespeare wasn’t in fact William Shakespeare. Rather missing the point though is that after four hundred or more years - little real evidence of this hypothesis has ever surfaced anywhere (the mother of all cover ups baby).

Back to the 2009 reprint - as you turn the large-leaf pages and devour the sleuth-like facts that we do know about him - you begin to see the problem with Willy Boy. Despite three pages of Selected Bibliography and two pages of image credits at the rear of Bryson’s tome - there are only a few actual likenesses of William Shakespeare known to exist. And of course, someone, somewhere, more knowledgeable than you or I - always disputes them.

William, the son of Jon Shakespeare, a humble and not well educated leather tanner, was born 23 April 1564 and while Billy’s name began to appear as early as 1598 on the title pages of quarto editions of his plays (famous while he was alive) - the depths and true emotional innards of this icon of literature remain infuriatingly opaque and elusive (he passed aged 52 in 1616).

One exciting development came from a two feet square portrait of a dapper but intelligent looking gent hanging for centuries in the stately home of the Cobbe Family in Newbridge House outside Dublin in Ireland. Long thought to have been a homage to Sir Walter Raleigh - one of the Cobbe family was visiting an exhibition in London's National Portrait Gallery and realised that their portrait might in fact be someone a tad more famous and historically important. Subjected to three years of rigorous tests including carbon-dating, X-Rays and atmospheric dendrochronological probes (trying saying that with a few jugs of ale) - as recently as 2006 - the Cobbe portrait was declared by the Chairman of The Birth Place Trust (Shakespearean experts) that it was in fact a new likeness of William Shakespeare.

I divulge all of this because outside of casual mentions in other people’s legal documents, a visiting Dutchman who wrote a short note on a play he saw at The Globe Theatre and had miraculously sketched what The Globe looked like (only discovered in 1888), Anne Hathaway's thatched cottage in Shottery (his wife), the cryptic almost nonsensical verse on his supposed burial place (where of course he isn't buried at all) and some signatures that may or may not be his own hand (a deed of mortgage for one of his homes at Blackfriars in 1613) - there is no paperwork, no evidence of religious beliefs, political leanings, no handwritten notes, corrections, ideas – naught, zip, and you guessed it - nadda.

Hell a huge number of the 154 Sonnets were actually dedicated to a man succinctly described by subsequent hetro historians as a fair youth. So was Shakespeare gay? Or was it the opposite? Sonnet Numbers 127 to 154 refer to a dark lady - so was our Wills in fact a rake – a bounder - a 16th century cad engaged in a lurid and ultimately rejected love affair as these bitter verses implied?

What we do know is that his wife Anne had born him three children, a son called Hamnet who died 1596 aged only eleven in mysterious circumstances and two daughters Judith and Susanna who lived to a ripe old age of 66 and 67 but never produced children so his line faded with them. In fact if it hadn't been for the diligence of his two friends John Heminges and Henry Condell who published the famous "First Folio" in 1623 (seven years after WS's death in 1616) containing and saving all of his written work (there are three variants of "Hamlet" alone with vastly differing lengths) - we might not have known of him except through other people's accounts or poor variants of the plays published while he was alive.

The First Folio was meant to correct all the preceding inferior versions of his work. But is it informative after eight years of prep? Is it bugger! The First Folio typically has a portrait of Shakespeare done from memory yonks after he died and offers a single dedication page that manages to tell you zilch whilst at the same time being more baffling than Brexit negotiations (so long and thanks for all the butter). Shakespeare also based loads of his plays in Italy but its known that he never travelled there...

So, despite lifetimes devoted to the great man and centuries of digging and cross-referencing - we may in 2018 be more in the dark than ever towards WS. 

Be that as it may - "Shakespeare: The Illustrated Edition" published by Harper Collins (ISBN: 9780007325238) is a fantastic read and one that's immeasurably enhanced by a huge plethora of images that illuminate and educate - hand carvings, legal documents, wills, the dedication page of The Sonnets addressed to Mr. W.H., the site of his grave and the famously odd four lines of doggerel, one of the 66 different copies of The First Folio on a pedestal and held at The Henry Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington (750 is reputed to be the number first printed though few know how many have actually survived the ravages of centuries).

I can’t think of any other writer who could have produced a book about William Shakespeare that is both detached in its arguments yet clearly and madly in love with its subject matter - even awestruck by the man's unparalleled written achievements (2000+ extra words are in the English language because of him and over 10% of all quotations are attributable to his pen).

Why do we mere mortals and the diligent Bryson adore this ancient scribe so much (some of his work is exactly that – bloody hard work)? Can we dig up that missing Elizabethan nugget of evidence hidden behind an inglenook somewhere that will finally prove Shakespeare's genius was all his own - once and for all?

Will a sweaty Neanderthal-like bricklayer stumble on a copy of his lost play Cardenio behind a flimsy wall in a Midlands timber-framed shack one day? Cue an edited Sonnet 116...

"...Love...Is An Ever Fixed-Mark...That Looks On Tempests And Is Never Shaken..."

WOW!

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