It's said with rather boring regularity that little is known
about Shakespeare the man. It is this that has fed the
Shakespeare-didn’t-write-Shakespeare movement. And yet, in reality there’s so
much that has been turned up on him, much of it ill-fitting our Romantic view
of The Artist.
That’s aside from all those quartos and folios of his work.
That’s aside from all those quartos and folios of his work.
Recently I’ve been grappling with a biography of his wife,
Ann Hathaway, by Germaine Greer. At one level, it’s an extraordinary
achievement – to write 350 pages, tightly packed with relevant information, on
a woman about whom next to nothing is known (aside from his leaving her the
second best bed).
On the other hand, I’m not at all sure that I will stay the
course. One can only take a certain number of might-have-beens, could-haves,
we-can-only-imagines, possiblies and supposes.

