When I discovered previously unattributed Shakespeare
sonnets, while following a research trail from electronic text to electronic
text to electronic transcriptions of more than usually obscure manuscripts, I
was so intent upon getting the details right that I barely felt a moment of
wonder. I was hot on the trail of
something, it appeared, but I barely knew what until I was on top of it and
then it just seemed impossible that the very best I could hope for had somehow actually
come to pass. The resulting celebration
lasted a matter of minutes. Mostly I
just stood staring at the text, grinning and shaking my head. I think a fist-pump or two were involved, as
well.
After weeks of repeatedly retracing my route, and checking to see that previous scholars’ efforts hadn’t explained the find away, I cautiously revealed it to a few close friends and family members. They were confused. Wasn’t it a really big thing to make such a find? Why didn’t I seem in the least overjoyed?
Of course, I was too exhausted to appear appropriately
exhilarated. I could only think of the
enormously tedious work ahead. I still
had to formalize the statistical evaluations, gather notes from every quarter, plan,
write and rewrite the manuscript, etc. While
my numbers would likely meet with the silence of prejudice, for all my efforts,
those who might so much as deign to read them would almost certainly find them suspect
as a matter of course. I am outside of their
professional and amateur networks, after all.
The computer resources available to me give me a far better
set of tools than earlier scholars but only secret proprietary programs can
suffice any longer. Nothing but each
group’s own Good Housekeeping approved numbers would satisfy. My open invitation, here, that they do that
verification would not necessarily satisfy them with the prospect of confirming
a finding announced in a Kindle book. That
said, my numbers would be both essential to a proper presentation, and, if they
were noticed at all, the basis of irrational alpha-positioning. None of this was exactly leaving me
celebratory.
How perverse the Cosmos seemed, then, to add on top of all
of these difficulties, the fact that the front matter of the book would display
the title Edward de Vere was Shake-speare: at long last the proof among
my august publishing credits: an Oxfordian authorship title. The vast majority of traditional Shakespeare
scholars, seeing such a title, will likely consider it a provocation and a sign
either that I could never properly identify a new Shakespeare sonnet or could
never be allowed to be credited with such a discovery. The best strategy could only be to
ignore the existence of the claim: a thing easily accomplished given that it
was made in a Kindle book.
My necessary allies, in this particular matter, were almost certain to recoil in disgust from even considering my new discovery it coming from an Oxfordian. Each successive draft of the monograph was written in the face of these eventualities.
As if Kindle publishing weren’t frustrating enough, now
comes a branding issue. Surely my books
don’t sell in sufficient numbers that I should have such problems.
But there can be no denying that having written a Shakespeare
Authorship book attracts a lot of negative attention. The book may sell a bit more than most other
nonfiction subjects not involving sex or weight loss but not so much that its
coattails are meaningful. That is pretty
much the full range of benefits, as it were, while the ferocious Stratfordian
trolling and the dismissive cold shoulder from Shakespeare scholars in academia
(or non-profit knock-offs of academia) on the other hand, can be quite
impressive.
In my own books on the work and identity of William
Shakespeare I strive to be more rigorous than traditional Shakespeare scholars. My Edward de Vere was Shakespeare and Was
Shake-speare Gay? are heavily
documented and strictly conservative in their interpretation of historical
facts. The latter title only reflects for
a few brief summary pages upon the implications of Shakespeare’s sonnets for
the traditional assignment of the man from Stratford as the playwright William
Shake-speare. Those implications are
hard won through long hours of research, strict documentation and conservative
interpretation.
In all of this research, of many hundreds of thousands of
words of text, I have found far and away more evidence for Edward de Vere, the
17th Earl of Oxford, as the author of the works that go under the
name of William Shake-speare. For
present purposes I wish I could say otherwise (and get away with it). To remove my Shakespeare Authorship title(s)
would only appear disingenuous, when, with electronic ease, my other books
would be soon found out. The book
credits must be included. That these new
sonnets are evaluated upon their own textual basis, apart from all other
publishing platforms, issues and persons, must somehow be enough to get them
recognition in the end — however long it will take to reach that end — and
myself due recognition for having had the research skills to have found them
out.
All of the above said, this is not offered to the public as
an authorship book regardless that the context in which the new sonnets are
found can only have authorship implications.
The sonnet in the monograph Discovered: A New Shakespeare Sonnet
is offered as a new Shakespeare poem entirely divorced from the question of who
Shakespeare might have been. As many as
four poems in the pirate anthology merit investigation as possible Shakespeare
poems: three sonnets and one song. One
sonnet satisfies traditional criteria for Shakespeare authorship so perfectly
that the present monograph focuses almost entirely upon it. The others receive brief commentary and are
marked for future evaluation.
The new resources available to the amateur scholar give him
or her the opportunity to participate fully in the fields that they love. The discipline and standards are another
matter but they are well worth developing, given the opportunities, and
academia is right to expect them. To
lack them all but guarantees failure. I
hope that Stratfordians and Oxfordians both can evaluate these poems without
reference to authorship issues or the publishing platform by which they are
presented.
Also at Virtual Grub Street:
- A 1572 Oxford Letter and the Player’s Speech in Hamlet. August 11, 2020. “The player’s speech has been a source of consternation among Shakespeare scholars for above 200 years. Why was Aeneas’ tale chosen as the subject?”
- Gutenberg, proto-Hack Writers and Shakespeare. May 26, 2020. “A less well known effect of the Reformation was that many young Catholic men who had taken religious orders in order to receive an education began to lead lives at large from monastic discipline. Like Erasmus and Rabelais they took up the pen.”
- The Battle Over Shakespeare's Early and Late Plays. September 24, 2018. “The answers to the post-Oxford dilemma, of course, are three.”
- Shakespeare's Apricocks. February 21, 2017. "While he may never have been a gardener, he does seem more than superficially knowledgeable about the gardens of his day. One detail of such matters that he got wrong, however, is as much to the point as any."
- Check out the English Renaissance Article Index for many more articles and reviews about this fascinating time and about the Shakespeare Authorship Question.
- Check out the English Renaissance Letter Index for many letters from this fascinating time, some related to the Shakespeare Authorship Question.
I hope you will click here to go to the Facebook book page and follow the progress. |
Desperately Seeking Bridget (de Vere)
- Shake-speare and the Influence of Ronsard
- Shake-speare's Greek
- Check out the English Renaissance Article Index for many more articles and reviews about this fascinating time and about the Shakespeare Authorship Question.
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