The Greatest Literary Mystery of ALL TIME

Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies by Elizabeth Winkler

In 2019, Elizabeth Winkler wrote an essay for The Atlantic called “Was Shakespeare a Woman?” exploring the possibility that the plays and poems attributed to William Shakespeare might actually have been written by a woman. The woman in this instance was Emilia Bassano, but that’s hardly the point. Winkler wrote the piece in the “spirit of inquiry and open-minded skepticism, questioning the received wisdom about Shakespeare but not making any definitive claims.” She was promptly tarred and feathered by the mob. Metaphorically speaking of course.

Now, some of you may be thinking, what the hell are you talking about? Shakespeare a woman?! Shakespeare not Shakespeare!? A good portion of you have probably never even considered the notion that Shakespeare (the man) didn’t write Shakespeare (the plays). But that, dear reader is what today is all about.

Winkler’s experience after the Atlantic piece was published—namely the intense backlash she faced from the traditional Shakespeare scholars who preside over the area of study—ignited a flame of curiosity. She thought that…the lady did, well, protest too much (irresistible). Maybe there really was something to discover here! But beyond that, even if the idea of an alternate author was preposterous, something interesting was happening on a psychological level. Why were these people just completely losing their shit over some scholarly fun (yes, I just typed the phrase scholarly fun—this is a part of who I am, okay?).

The result of Winkler’s flame of curiosity is the book, Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies. And you guys! This book is so spectacular. I really have struggled to write this review because there’s just so much to cover. And I want to get to it all! So that you know it all! But that means I keep falling down rabbit holes and getting into highly specific arguments that don’t even get at the heart of what I’m trying to say.

So I must impose structure! I must tell you that what you’re about to read (my review) only scratches the surface. And I hope it’s enough to pique your interest, even if this type of thing is not your cup of tea. You do not have to be a Shakespeare scholar (that’s honestly the whole point). This book is fascinating and delightfully entertaining and frankly mind altering. You should read it!!! Okay, now onto why.

Consider the following, shall we say…discrepancies, all eloquently laid out by Winkler in the first chapter of the book—and YES, I’m about to hit you with some BULLET POINTS:

• The life of William Shakespeare, the man from Stratford, is well documented—arguably more so than the lives of his contemporaries. A “mass of personal records” exist, and while they show that he was a merchant, a landowner, an actor, a shareholder in an an acting company, they do not show that he was a writer, a poet, or a playwright.

• There is no link between the subject matter of the plays and the life of the Stratford man. One really need not say more than the singular invocation: ITALY.

• William Shakespeare’s daughters were illiterate and could hardly write their own names.

• The Stratford man left a detailed will. It outlined what of his property and possessions should go to each daughter. It bequeathed his favorite chair to his wife (Anne Hathaway!). The man was meticulous about what was going where, except as pertained to…his writing, his plays, his poems, the manuscripts, or even the extensive library he must have had.

• When the Stratford man died in 1616, the literary world did not mourn. Eulogies of famed writers and artists were common at the time, but for William Shakespeare? Nothing.

I’ve been familiar with these basic points of contention for more than half of my life at least, having been raised by a dedicated Marlovian.¹ As such, I have also been familiar with the dismissive response that usually meets curiosity on the subject. I learned that the question of authorship is not one you’re supposed to ask when I asked my high school English teacher—who taught me to love Shakespeare in the first place—if he thought it was at all odd that Shakespeare’s children were illiterate. I was met with a classic Whit Morgan guffaw.²

That was much friendlier rebuttal than most of what Winkler got and continues to get, but the underlying sentiment was the same: you’re a smart girl, don’t let the lunatics lead you down this path of woe. Literally! Shakespeare scholars frequently level accusations of mental instability if not insanity at anyone who dares to question. But when you look at the question from our (yep, our) side—when you hear even just the non-exhaustive shortlist of discrepancies outlined above, wouldn’t you have to be insane to not question? Is it really more preposterous to question the established biography than to believe it?

As Winkler aptly points out, the reason the authorship heresies persist and multiply is because these “difficulties” cannot be resolved. And rather than engaging with them, traditional scholars essentially ignore them. The most well known biographers fabricate right over them—filling in the gaping holes with their own imaginings. He must have had a few years at the local grammar school, but there’s no proof of him ever having gone to school AT ALL, and that’s just one example. The biographies are full of must haves and we can imagines and perhapses.

You wanna hear a list of a few people you might know who doubted the authorship? Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, Mark Twain, Sigmund Freud, Helen Keller, Lewis Lapham, and Supreme Court Justices John Paul Stevens and Lewis F. Powell Jr. That’s two of the greatest legal minds in American history!!!!!!

And those are just the amateur doubters. Enter, the insane/sane cast of characters, the anti-Stratfordians—a catch-all label for anyone who does not believe the Stratford man wrote the plays. These are the people who have dedicated their lives to legitimate (though the establishment wouldn’t call it that) scholarship on the subject.

There’s poor, defamed Delia Bacon who thought it was Francis Bacon (no relation). As the first group of detractors to gain any real traction, the Baconians had a rough go of the thing. There’s Evelyn Waugh who, among many others, thinks it was Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford. There’s Mark Raylance (founding artistic director of Shakespeare’s Globe (before he was pushed out for his Anti-Stratfordian views), and renowned Shakepearean actor!!!) who thinks it was Mary Sidney. There’s Ros Barber who thinks it was Christopher Marlowe. These are only the ones that really stuck out to me among so many captivating characters, all with arguments more intriguing (read: FUN) and compelling than the last.

I’ve got to admit the Oxfordians almost had me until Winkler got around to Marlowe in the second to last chapter. Then my conditioning, common sense, and dammit, my spirit of adventure (!!!) kicked in. Allow this to be my one plug for Marlowe because I really can’t resist: all you need to do is believe that his death was staged!! That’s all you need to do, and suddenly, it all makes perfect sense. Is that really so much of a leap? How hard was it really to fake a death in Elizabethan England? When the man was a known spy, and the coroner who examined the body was the QUEEN’S PERSONAL CORONER???

But I promised myself no impassioned rabbit holes, so back to my structure. It’s the characters, the real people who populate this particular world of intrigue, that drive the book, and Winkler does such a good job of capturing them. Her words are fun to read. Her characters (they’re real people of course, but you know what I mean) are eccentric, they are funny, they are bespectacled vigilantes! Particularly set against the stick-up-the-ass-ery of the traditional Shakespeare scholars, they are heroes. And Winkler’s sharp & winking (ha ha) prose does justice to the cast.

You see, beyond being a fascinating and well-researched exploration of the question at hand, Shakespeare Was a Woman is a psychological study. The question of who wrote the plays—the very foundation of English literature—is the greatest most inspiring quandary possibly of all time. It is the mystery to end all mysteries. If you care about this stuff, which I do. And the professors who teach Shakespeare, and the scholars and acolytes who write the well received books about him absolutely refuse to engage with the counter evidence. They plug their ears and close their eyes and sing la la la la. It baffles the mind.

Of course, the various anti-Stratfordians are staunch in their beliefs as well. You can’t read Winkler’s account of her interactions with Waugh without understanding that he’s as passionate about the case for Oxford as your standard Shakespeare scholar is for Stratford. BUT—by nature of being on the outside, even the most certain of the anti-Stratfordians has to allow room for doubt. In order to prove the legitimacy of his claim, he has to consider all seventeen sides of the argument, and in doing so, he has to acknowledge that here and there, someone else has developed an intriguing argument.

In the end, this is what Winkler hones in on, and this is what makes the book compelling beyond all the VERY compelling Shakespeare talk. Wouldn’t we all like to have the answer? To have the certainty? In this, but also in everything? In examining the traditional scholars who hold onto their certainty about the Stratford man, it becomes clear that what they’re really holding onto is a vision with no solidity, a mirage! And in the punishing, white-knuckle grip with which they hold onto it, and the blind force with which they impose it on others, it becomes not a comforting certainty, but an oppression. The truth will set you free, but only if it’s actually true! Otherwise, freedom is on the other side of open inquiry. The key lies in getting comfortable with two things: a little bit of outlandishness (maybe even insanity?), and a whole lot of uncertainty.

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1. My dearest father who raised me to be ever curious and doubtful and who gave me this book and begged me to write about it <3

2. Mr Morgan, if you’re reading this—have you read THIS BOOK?!