In being held aloft as the epitome of English language and arguably world theater, too, the Bard of Stratford on Avon stands as an overbearing, even oppressive, figure.
Any writer since has faced the reality that by definition no one else can measure up, period. The fact that others have managed to carve out niches in the field in the centuries since is remarkable, considering.
Still, William’s presence was the reason I didn’t major in English when I transferred to Indiana University in mid-sophomore year. The department required a Shakespeare course predicated on memorization, something that’s not high in my skillset.
Beyond that, my focus has been on contemporary literature, at the time fiction and non-fiction but soon turning to poetry as well.
As a contrarian, I see no value in iambic pentameter, which we don’t speak, OK, and when I wrote in the form, the lines were always needlessly wordy. I like tight, direct, distilled, edgy. Later, the more flexible lines on Japanese poetry fit my ear as more reflective of American speech, at least as it was being applied by some West Coast poets. Count me in.
Not to deflate the Great Bard myth, but long ago I came independently to debunk William Shakespeare’s authorship of the plays. Nobody could have such an acclaimed vocabulary, for one thing, especially in the days before a thesaurus or dictionary. As for such a wide panorama of human values and foibles? Maybe it was a committee or at least a collaboration of greats – you know, a circle of improvisers whose takes were dutifully taken down as dictation – I was willing to accept that much. Sir Walter Raleigh has his backers as the likely author, and his poetry is more vernacular than his contemporaries, more akin to what we were doing in America in the 20th century.
Remember, though, having to memorize his plays, or at least the great moments, was the swing factor in why I majored in political science instead. Otherwise, I would have continually been trying to rewrite it. Instead, avoiding the Bard, I was still able to minor in English abetted by the Comparative Literature department.
More recently I’ve embraced the argument that Emelia Bassano Lanier was the actual playwright. From the existing evidence, she was better read and had a wider command of foreign languages. She likely had more time for composition, considering all the time Billy Boy would have been tied up as a theater manager, director, and actor. To pursue the fuller case, you can start by looking her up online.
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For my own quirky entry here, I’ll remind you of my own Hamlet, a collection of poems spread over five two-scene acts with intermissions and intermezzos.
You might say it has more in common with Chaucer, though, with a rock ‘em, shock ‘em beat.
You can find it and more in the digital platform of your choice at Smashwords, the Apple Store, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Scribd, Sony’s Kobo, and other fine ebook retailers. You can also ask your public library to obtain it.
Jnana's Red Barn 