One of the most persistent literary controversies is the question of who really wrote the plays and sonnets attributed to William Shakespeare. The first documented challenge to his authorship of the works did not appear until 1785, 169 years after his death. But since then, as noted Shakespearean scholar James Shapiro demonstrates in his enlightening and highly entertaining Contested Will, it has never stopped.

In a marvelous display of literary detection, Shapiro traces the origins of the various alternative theories with candidates such as Francis Bacon and the Earl of Oxford. He shows why the theories arose when they did and exposes the forgeries and deception as well as the misunderstandings of Shakespeare’s age that kept them alive. Along the way we meet such fascinating and now-forgotten personalities as the two most influential persons in the controversy, popular lecturer Delia Bacon, the allegedly “mad” American woman (she spent the last two years of her life in an asylum) who first proposed Francis Bacon, and J.T. Looney, the British schoolmaster who was the first to put forth the name of Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford. Mark Twain, Sigmund Freud, Henry James and Helen Keller were among the many others who were also certain that the glover’s son from Stratford could not possibly have written works of such sophistication and elegance.

Shapiro, the author of the widely praised A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare: 1599, which received the Samuel Johnson Prize in England, emphasizes that Shakespeare should not be seen as “our contemporary” and that he was not “as universal” as we often like to think of him. He also explores the process that, after Shakespeare’s death, led to setting the genius of his works apart from other writers of his age. Among other treats, there is a rich discussion of Henry James’ analysis of The Tempest, perhaps the best essay written when that play was regarded as the last one Shakespeare wrote and the most autobiographical.

The author is keenly aware that it is much easier to explain unfounded assumptions than to show that Shakespeare wrote the works attributed to him. In the brilliant last section of the book, Shapiro presents evidence that convinces him that Shakespeare was indeed the author. Among much else, the author of the plays had to have intimate knowledge of the actors in the King’s Men, Shakespeare’s company, and be a shrewd judge of each one’s abilities. In the printed text there are examples of Shakespeare’s writing the name of the actor playing the part rather than the character’s name. Secondly, much that his fellow writers wrote about Shakespeare has survived, and in even private documents, where his “true identity” surely would be acknowledged, Shakespeare is the name we read. Shapiro then presents documentation from the last years of Shakespeare’s working life, when he was working with collaborators, writing in a different style, and in a new kind of playhouse.

Shapiro is most concerned that those who think Shakespeare of Stratford did not have the life experience to write the plays overlook “the very thing that makes him so exceptional: his imagination.” This sophisticated and very readable title is pure delight. All readers may not agree with Shapiro’s conclusions, but he certainly convinced me.

There is nothing a writer craves more than to be told she is on the right path, that her creative processes and habits will inevitably produce a head-turning work of fiction—and nothing a writer needs more than to be denied that assurance and told firmly by one who knows to get back to work. The Secret Miracle, edited by Peruvian-American novelist Daniel Alarcón, does both.

In a Q&A format, many notable writers contribute valuable insights. The book’s strength is the range of writers included: literary icons Amy Tan and Mario Vargas Llosa; crime novelist George Pelecanos; household names Stephen King and Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket); prize-winning novelists Edwidge Danticat, Paul Auster, Jonathan Lethem and Roddy Doyle; and dozens more. The geographical spread is vast: writers live in Cairo, Mexico City, Barcelona, Tel Aviv, Paris and across the United States. Several are published in English in translation. The questions asked range just as far: What, and how, do you read? Is there a book you return to over and over? What do you learn from other art forms? Do you research? Outline? Plan a novel’s structure or let it happen? Identify with a character? Draw from your own life? Writers talk about their schedules, where they write and how they measure a successful day. When do you share a draft, how do you revise, what about false starts?

That breadth is also the book’s weakness. With so many writers on so many topics, some answers are too short to offer much help. Contradictions are inevitable, but delightful, and may fan the occasional flames between writers and readers of literary and genre fiction. Still, it isn’t only genre writers who value plot, or literary novelists who savor language. These people stand on common ground, though their walk and talk varies tremendously.

Proceeds from the book will benefit 826 National, a nonprofit network of tutoring and writing centers in eight cities, named for its original location, at 826 Valencia in San Francisco. In 2009, more than 4,000 volunteers worked with 18,000-plus students ages 6 to 18 on creative and expository writing; offered 266 workshops for students and teachers; provided after-school tutoring for 130 students a day; and produced more than 600 student publications. Each center also sponsors roundtable discussions with published writers.

Read a page of The Secret Miracle when you’re stuck or need a break from your own writing, or if you’re a reader, when you want a glimpse of the world behind the page. Dip in, then get back to work.

Leslie Budewitz’s short stories have appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchock Mystery Magazine, and The Whitefish Review.

RELATED CONTENT

Interview with editor Daniel Alarcón

Do you, dear reader, dither over Mr. Darcy? Enthuse about the archness of Emma? Wail about the likes of Willoughby? If so, you just might be a Janeite. If that’s the case—and even if not—there is much to divert and please in Claire Harman’s well-blended biography and cultural commentary, Jane’s Fame: How Jane Austen Conquered the World. Harman, an award-winning biographer, turns her sharp scholarly eye, acutely sensible prose and considerable wit on the life of the “divine Jane” in this gem of a book, tracing Austen’s early years and literary pursuits through to the present-day cult of Austenmania.

There is, nearly 200 years on, still much mystery surrounding Jane Austen’s life. Though she left behind, upon her death in July 1817 at age 41, various papers, manuscripts and correspondences, much of that catalog was destroyed, lost or sold off. This biography-history fills in many blanks, brimming with entertaining anecdotes and quotes, robust scholarship and ironic humor. Harman’s research exhaustively mines the materials and memorabilia contained in the body of institutions, trusts and Austenian scholarship as well as Austen’s own surviving letters, in which she declares that “tho’ I like praise as well as anybody, I like . . . Pewter too.” This pointed statement, though brief, gives insight into Jane, the hard-headed businesswoman—a characteristic most definitely not universally acknowledged in James Edward Austen-Leigh’s rather saccharine 19th-century biography of his famous aunt.

Harman insightfully portrays Jane, the writer and published author; tracks Jane’s rising fame and readership against the broad historical backdrop of the 18th and 19th centuries; identifies the trends of Austenian literary consumption and criticism (Mark Twain was not a fan); follows the “canonization” of all things Austen in print, theater and film; and finally, with tongue firmly placed in cheek, explicates how Jane Austen became a 21st-century brand through the power of TV and film—a phenomenon helped not a little by the memorable vision of Colin Firth in a clinging wet shirt. 

Sherlock Holmes knew two things to be true: that noticing small, seemingly inconsequential details can lead one to larger discoveries, and that real life spawns situations more curious than mere fiction can. These concepts are the thematic backbone of The Devil and Sherlock Holmes, David Grann’s collection of 12 previously published articles concerning the weird and the wonderful in human conduct. In each case, Grann brings a reporter’s eye and investigative tenacity to his subject. He is, in essence, both the probing Holmes and his dutiful note-taker, Dr. Watson.

Suitably enough, in his opening chapter, Grann takes the reader into the rarefied world of Sherlock Holmes scholars and enthusiasts who treat Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s imaginary detective as if he had actually existed. Perhaps the most brilliant of these was Richard Lancelyn Green. Fascinated by the figure of Holmes since childhood, Green became an acknowledged expert on Doyle’s life and methods. He was trying desperately to prevent a treasury of Doyle’s papers from being auctioned off when, on the morning of March 27, 2004, police broke through the locked door of his London residence and “found the body of Green lying on his bed, surrounded by Sherlock Holmes books and posters, with a cord wrapped around his neck. He had been garroted.” Murder or an elaborate suicide?

Grann, a staff writer for The New Yorker and author of The Lost City of Z, also chronicles another mysterious death in Poland and a novel that seems to bear on it. He examines the detective work that led to the prosecution of a man in Texas for killing his children in a house fire, comes face to face with leaders of the Aryan Brotherhood prison gang and hangs out with a purported Haitian torturer. Then there are his tales of obsession—the adult Frenchman who repeatedly passed himself off as a child; the relentless searchers for giant squids; and the generations of “sand hogs” who keep New York’s water flowing.

The author’s dramatic pacing and attention to colorful details would make Dr. Watson proud. No doubt the persnickety Holmes would approve, too.

Edward Morris reviews from Nashville.