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Matt Everett

Prose Roundup

Four hundred years have passed since Shakespeare plied his quill. In the interim, we have published him, lauded him, Bowdlerized him, edited him, and possibly forgotten who he was. One has the sense that the historical documentation is worn thin with the jittery handling of Ivy League professors. Every generation—every few years—Shakespeare is remade from the same stuff.

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The Brooklyn Rail

SEPT 2020

All Issues