The Mysterious William Shakespeare Broché – 17 novembre 1988
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For those too drunk on Oxford to see the curb, and who fall into the gutter. Oxfordism is dead...a dead issue. After 100 years of Looney Turnes they have absolutely no evidence that Oxford had anything to do with the plays. There must be a statute of limitations on this kind of nonsense in the computer age.
William Shakespeeare wrote the plays, and it you don't like that idea, stay in your room, and throw eggs at a picture of him. That does as much good as Mr. Looney's book.
One of the wonders of this book is that Shakespeare starts to come alive as a man and writer, as a man with a deeply tragic life, a man with dark sides. The conventional view is that there is no connection between the man and his works, that he was simply a "natural" genius, that the plays poured out of him, as though he were simply a tabula rasa, a vehicle for something outside himself. It's similar to the way some people think that Mozart's music just "happened," as in the horrendous movie version of "Amadeus." But when you listen to Mozart, you're not hearing some unconscious "universal" vehicle of music, you're hearing a particular man and artist expressing his deeply felt art and his vision of life. It's the same with Shakespeare. He was an artist expressing himself through his works. When Ogburn fills in the details of de Vere's life and character, the plays of Shakespeare suddenly start to make sense as the works of a definite personality. Shakespeare ceases to be a blank universal and becomes someone real.