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Shakespeare Style

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Jeanette Winterson and Anne Tyler, among others, are rewriting Shakespeare’s plays for Random House. Just in at the LRB is a review copy of a much bolder project, Marcus Brady’s self-published Dark, Love and Light: A 21st-Century Play with Shakespeare-Style Language.

Comments

  1. MrJayBee says:

    If Marcus Brady isn’t a Wu Ming project then this unduly mean.

  2. Marcus Brady says:

    Dear Reader, I’m posting this comment to state and make clear that I am not a Wu Ming project, as the person who posted the previous comment suggests. I am a real person, and Marcus Brady is my real name, not a pen name. I am a real writer, and my play Dark, Love, and Light is 100% my own work.

    If you’re doubtful that I myself posted this comment, please simply email me using the email address on the Contact page of my website (there’s a link to the site through the blue “Marcus Brady’s” above), and I will confirm for you that I did indeed post this comment myself.

    I wanted to make it 100% clear that I am a real person, a real writer, and that my book is my own work. I appreciate that some people might find it hard to believe that someone can write a 21st century play with Shakespeare-style language, but I really can, and with Dark, Love, and Light, I have written a 21st century play with Shakespeare-style language.

    • Miss Lonelyhearts says:

      Marcus Brady’s existence as a verifiable human being and his identity as an Irish writer are facts beyond honest reproach. Despite his suggestion, my confirmation of these iron establishments comes not from e-mailing him—in fact I have not exchanged a single word with the inky-fingered man, preferring, instead, old-fashioned fandom. Through his website I have for months been following the work of the bardy Mr Brady. . . . And he is the writer all Eire has been waiting for since the death of Beckett in 1989, or perhaps since John Banville’s suicide by drowning in 2005. The available excerpted portions of his Dark, Light, and Love, a 21st century play in Shakespeare-style language, bids one, as the gilt blazonry of Mr Brady’s inspiration bade Emerson, to shade one’s eyes. It would not be hasty, I don’t think, to suggest Mr Brady’s play ought someday to grace the Abbey’s girdled O, in order that its audience might most pleasurably ungirdle their own.

      Mr Brady’s remarkable, even sorcerous power over English is rarely better illustrated than here, in Dark, Love, and Night, 1.1, vivacious Vevina to anarch Annabel:

      ‘With your putting of your hands into the
      Sea, rarity knows you are inside it.
      With your palm you lift liquid to your mouth,
      But you dislike the taste—I knew you would—
      And so you spit it back into the sea.’

      Yes. Quite.

      I would be only too pleased to review for the Review Mr Brady’s fine play, an emblem for the 21st century, embroidered and hung up by Tudor hands.


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