Shakespeare's Face [Paperback]

To my chagrin I realize that the review copy I previously submitted incorrectly identified Dr. Somerset as being from the University of Toronto, not the University of Western Ontario. That error and a couple of small usage mistakes have been corrected in this new copy. I appreciate you indulgence in making the necessary substitution. Thank you for the opportunity to write.

Best regards,

Roger Stritmatter
PhD

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Five of the distinguished contributors to this book conclude that the painting in question is not likely to be "Shakespeare's Face." But of course, a book called "John Fletcher's Face?" won't sell, so the title has not been altered to reflect the book's contents. But if the book's premise seems doubtful even to the major contributors, it is also is an impressive testament to the intersection of professorial pride (sometimes downright arrogance), nationalist striving (A "Canadian Shakespeare!"), and mercantile ambition which makes its subject such a hot topic. I just returned from the Trinity College Conference on the portrait held at the University of Toronto this past weekend. At the conference, University of Western Ontario Professor Alan Somerset, with considerable grace and devastating logic, dismembered the claim, featured prominently in Ms. Nolan's book, that the label identifying the portrait as a "likeness of Shakespeare" does not, as certain historical facts make almost inevitable, date to the late 18th or early 19th century. As the label goes, so goes the painting: alas, nothing except the label and "family tradition" offer the slightest pretense for believing that this is actually a portrait of Shakespeare -- except, of course, for the fact that the bard was presumably alive in 1603 when this portrait was painted.

As a piece of investigative journalism, this book is flawed by the author's self-interested gullibility and provincial bias. As a work of scholarship it is flawed by an atmosphere of conspicuous disregard for the canons of skeptical inquiry (fortunately the conference, due to the influence of participants such as Professor Somerset, was far less prejudicial in its orientation).

What is most astounding about the case for the Sanders portrait is that even in the gold rush atmosphere created by the *Toronto Globe and Mail,* almost no one of sober intellect is willing to concede the probability that it represents an authentic likeness of the bard. In her concluding remarks Symposium coordinator Alexandra Johnston agreed with the comment of Lynne Kositsky that the Sanders is probably not a painting of Shakespeare and in any case will never be established as one to the satisfaction of informed parties. There are just too many unanswered questions which cast serious doubt on the reliability of Lloyd Sullivan's claims.

One thing the contributors to the book do seem to agree on is that they wish the Sanders *were* authentic, because it would save them a great deal of bother. Clearly these academicians don't like anyone who tinkers with their divine William, and having a painting of him would be a good thing. Indeed, reading some chapters, one gets the distinct impression that the primary purpose of contributors such as Jonathan Bate has very little to do with the Sanders portrait and everything to do with slaying the fire-breathing dragon of the "Oxfordian" heresy. Even Stephanie Nolan breathlessly assures us that the portrait's owner Lloyd Sullivan has made an extensive study of the Shakespearean authorship controversy. The view advanced in recent years in Harpers, Atlantic Monthly, The New Yorker and the New York Times, identifying Edward de Vere 17th Earl of Oxford as the most likely man behind the mask of the bard, is --supposes Mr. Sullivan -- a "lunatic conspiracy theory." Indeed, Sullivan's "money was on the glover's son from Stratford."

Methinks the enterprising Mr. Sullivan, and his enterprising public relations manager Ms. Nolan doth protest just a little too much.

Caveat emptor: an entertaining, amusing, and unreliable book.

As a piece of investigated journalism, this book is flawed by the author's self-interested gullibility and provincial bias. As a work of scholarship it is flawed by an atmosphere of conspicuous disregard for the canons of skeptical inquiry (fortunately the conference, due to the influence of participants such as Professor Somerset, was far less prejudicial in its orientation).

What is most astounding about the case for the Sanders portrait is that even in the gold rush atmosphere created by the *Toronto Globe and Mail,* almost no one of sober intellect is willing to concede the probability that it represents an authentic likeness of the bard. In her concluding remarks Symposium coordinator Alexandra Johnston agreed with the comment of Lynne Kositsky that the Sanders is probably not a painting of Shakespeare and in any case will never be established as one to the satisfaction of informed parties. There are just too many unanswered questions which cast serious doubt on the reliability of Lloyd Sullivan's claims.

One thing the contributors to the book do seem to agree on is that they wish the Sanders *were* authentic, because it would save them a great deal of bother. Clearly these academicians don't like anyone who tinkers with their divine William, and having a painting of him would be a good thing. Indeed, reading some chapters, one gets the distinct impression that the primary purpose of contributors such as Jonathan Bate has very little to do with the Sanders portrait and everything to do with slaying the fire-breathing dragon of the "Oxfordian" heresy. Even Stephanie Nolan breathlessly assures us that the portrait's owner Lloyd Sullivan has made an extensive study of the Shakespearean authorship controversy. The view advanced in recent years in Harpers, Atlantic Monthly, The New Yorker and the New York Times, identifying Edward de Vere 17th Earl of Oxford as the most likely man behind the mask of the bard, is --supposes Mr. Sullivan -- a "lunatic conspiracy theory." Indeed, Sullivan's "money was on the glover's son from Stratford."

Methinks the enterprising Mr. Sullivan, and his enterprising public relations manager Ms. Nolan doth protest just a little too much.

Caveat emptor: an entertaining, amusing, and unreliable book.