Melina has just been trying to find her voice, mainly through telling stories, composing plays. She has viewed Professor Buford only as a supportive mentor, encouraging her and recommending her to submit her plays to contests, even at the cost of snide looks and remarks from most of her peers. That is, until now, when she suddenly and heartbreakingly sees through his gestures, his attention. But why is it that she must rely on these men around her – mentors, critics, producers – to herald her into the world of theater? When she learns from her father about an ancestor, many generations prior, who was the first female poet to publish in England, she becomes a bit obsessed to research more about her, and finds, to her shock, that she was more than just a minor poet. She finds evidence that her predecessor, Emilia Bassano, may have struggled, just as she is, to be given a platform. It may be that she actually did succeed, however – and it may be that she did so through the name of the most famous poet/playwright of her time.
This is a thoroughly researched, courageous argument that suggests that William Shakespeare had ghostwriters – and that it is quite likely that at least one of them, if not the primary one, was Emilia Bassano. As the plot unfolds through both Emilia’s and Melina’s stories, we hear cogent explanations of how Emilia had more insight, exposure, and concrete, detailed knowledge of the history, characters, and locations of the plays that Shakespeare himself would not have had privy to. (And there was, of course, no internet then for him to access this information…) I will not go into these details, as this is part of the joy of reading this novel, but suffice it to say, I was convinced of the need to question everything I’ve ever understood to be the “works of William Shakespeare.”
Even if you’re not convinced to at least question the origin of the works – and I would find it hard to believe you could not – there is still a beautiful, tragic, and thoughtful story embedded here in this novel. Both Emilia’a and Melina’s characters are passionate and strong and yet vulnerable. We love them, cheer for them, even cry for them. Each story is powerful in its own right; but the idea to cast them as parallels is, in my opinion, pure genius. It highlights the problematic issue that, my god, even when we think things have changed so much after all these decades – centuries! – things have really not changed all that much after all.
I think that, for many reasons, this is a MUST READ. I think as a stand-alone novel, it is outstanding. But for its historical and literary significance, its brave questioning of what we know to be the suppression of women’s voices throughout the ages, it is enlightening and essential.
kindread spirits 