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Memories of the Son of Memory (Part IX): Miracle of Shakespeare

During the time of anchorless living when my dreams of a career in writing seemed as far away as my hopes of a career in the classroom, I stumbled upon the idea of the authorship question. As I've already pointed out my major gripes with the whole bag of malarkey, let me say instead what I wish we'd focus on, rather than pointless drivel about conspiracies and centuries' old secrets.
I have to fast-forward chronologically to get to this point, but I think it's a crucial one. Back in the summer of '09, the local NPR affiliate, KUER, did an hour long segment on the Antistratfordian position, citing heavy hitters like Supreme Court Justices and Mark Twain as skeptics when it came to the authenticity of Shakespeare of Stratford. In it, they interviewed for a few brief minutes Ace G. Pilkington, a frequent facilitator of conversations at the post-show discussions at the Utah Shakespeare Festival. Gayle and I had recently learned about these conversations, nestled in between pines and red rocks, a stone's throw from the Adams Outdoor Theatre, and we happened to attend one in which Dr. Pilkington was speaking. One patron mentioned the show, and Dr. Pilkington gave his familiar gruff guffaw at it. "Here's what gets me," he said (according to my gauzy memory). "There's so much to talk about Shakespeare that it's ludicrous to waste any time at all on the authorship question. Wouldn't a show about one of his plays be more interesting than treading over these long-ago refuted arguments?"
That's it right there.
There's an abundance of Shakespeare to speak of. While old veterans may have heard many different interpretations over the years, there's always someone new in every audience who needs analysis that, to them, seems fresh and exciting and wondrous. So why must people think the only thing worth discussing is the pale cast of conspiratorial thought?
It is in this vein that, after I lost my chance at a job I felt confident would (and should) be mine, that I started poking around the Internet. Of course, this is a horrible choice, but I did find a worthwhile site that, with the endless, saintly patience necessary for dealing with Loonies (pronounced "LOW-nees", as a shout out to Dr. Looney (pronounced "LOW-nee") who really helped the whole Oxfordian hypothesis going). It documents a number of arguments and provides refutations that are well documented and researched. I pored over the information there, trying to puzzle out just what the Antistratfordians were after.

The unfortunately named Dr. Looney

Later, I picked up a digital copy of Spearing the Wild Blue Boar by Frederick Keller, which covered similar ground but with greater gusto and irreverence. This helped convince me I was on "the right side" of the argument and pushed me further from seriously entertaining the Oxfordian--or Bakish, or any other--case.
This was at last solidified by James Shapiro in his book Contested Will, which I mentioned earlier. Suffice to say, I have put in my time to ensure I knew more about the person Shakespeare than the layman, and a lot of it came during these months adrift.
Having said all of that, I do like the thought that a friend and mentor once said to me, which I here paraphrase: "You either believe in a hoax or a miracle. I'd rather believe in a miracle."

I'd rather believe in a miracle.

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