Bill Bryson’s short biography, Shakespeare: The World as Stage, is an excellent addition to the already vast corpus of literature about the life and times of William Shakespeare. If you’ve already had some contact with Shakespearean scholarship, I’d recommend checking out something a little meatier, such as Stephen Greenblatt’s terrific biographical study of Shakespeare, Will in the World (or, for that matter, any of the other myriad books on Shakespeare by the likes of such literary luminaries as Bloom, Shapiro, and many others). Either way, though, Bryson’s Shakespeare is a quick and engaging read, regardless of your familiarity with the subject.
If you haven’t encountered any of the innumerable dissections, dissertations, postulations, monographs, opinions, theorems, theses, hypotheses, studies, surveys, sketches, and reckless speculations, all bounded, not in a nutshell, but within the vast infinitude of past Shakespearean scholarship (or the seemingly endless torrent of new scholarly works currently being dreamed up, written, and eagerly published), then Bill Bryson’s Shakespeare: The World as Stage is the perfect place to start. It’s a brief but efficient introduction to Elizabethan and Jacobean England, that fascinating but tumultuous era into which Shakespeare was born, lived, and worked—written with Bryson’s trademark blend of humor, wit, contagious curiosity and irrepressible exuberance that defines all of his work.
It’s a short book, written for an ongoing and widely- read biographical series that focuses on “great lives,” or, somewhat less grandly, on persons of historical interest or import. The brevity of the book, though, turns out not to be so much a hindrance as a rather helpful restriction. As Bryson rightly points out early in the book, William Shakespeare’s historical footprint—excepting his published works of course, which are quite an exceptional exception to make—is practically nonexistent. And the depressingly few facts we do know (with something approaching certainty) wouldn’t fill a single page—much less a book. So the prescribed brevity of Bryson’s biography actually ends up doing him a favor. Unlike most Shakespeare scholars (a slightly snobbish cohort to which Bryson, happily, does not belong), he doesn’t have to fill pages with empty inferences and shoddy speculation. Tellingly, though, even with all his succinctness and pith, Bryson’s brief biographical sketch still necessitates the inclusion of a fairly large amount of educated guesswork, speculative musings, and other fillers.
If one were truly to stick only to the known facts about William Shakespeare, one wouldn’t end up with a book, but a paragraph. Luckily for readers, then, that the mysteries of Shakespeare’s life, and the unending speculations over them, are a large part of the fun.