Christopher Marlowe is eating my brain!
I'm working on a story that features the ghost of Christopher Marlowe. I'll call him Kit, since we have been intimate in a fictional way. The problem is I've been reading these crazy looney-tunes crank theories about his death, and if he was really Shakespeare...and the weird thing is the conspiracy nuts...I hate to say this, I think they're right. I'm convinced.
Okay, just will anyone look at the Corpus Christi portrait and compare it to the Grafton portrait of W.S. Duh! They are clearly the same person. This isn't proof of course, but the preponderance of evidence both about his escape from Deptford alive, and the lovely plays set in Italy, not to mention the sonnets--good lord! Christopher Marlowe is the author of those plays! And sonnets!
I need to take a walk. Is my brain turning to oatmeal, or are we all ignoring the elephant in the room? Or, I suppose it's possible, does it not matter? No, it matters. Or, at least, it matters to me. I can see I'm going to be one of those weirdly eccentric old ladies who corners strangers and recites lines from Dr. Faustus.
Charles Nichols believed he died in Deptford, but he has written a book about the murder of Christopher Marlowe, and if he escaped Deptford alive, there would be no murder. Good research, though. Anthony Burgess has written a brilliant book about CM, but he had an issue, he wanted to make a point. Very convincing. Almost convinced me.
Good grief. Now I have to track down Pietro Basconi, who took care of an exiled English poet named CM until his death in 1627, in Padua. And papers regarding this were shown to Washington Irving on a trip to Italy? How cool is that?
Okay, just will anyone look at the Corpus Christi portrait and compare it to the Grafton portrait of W.S. Duh! They are clearly the same person. This isn't proof of course, but the preponderance of evidence both about his escape from Deptford alive, and the lovely plays set in Italy, not to mention the sonnets--good lord! Christopher Marlowe is the author of those plays! And sonnets!
I need to take a walk. Is my brain turning to oatmeal, or are we all ignoring the elephant in the room? Or, I suppose it's possible, does it not matter? No, it matters. Or, at least, it matters to me. I can see I'm going to be one of those weirdly eccentric old ladies who corners strangers and recites lines from Dr. Faustus.
Charles Nichols believed he died in Deptford, but he has written a book about the murder of Christopher Marlowe, and if he escaped Deptford alive, there would be no murder. Good research, though. Anthony Burgess has written a brilliant book about CM, but he had an issue, he wanted to make a point. Very convincing. Almost convinced me.
Good grief. Now I have to track down Pietro Basconi, who took care of an exiled English poet named CM until his death in 1627, in Padua. And papers regarding this were shown to Washington Irving on a trip to Italy? How cool is that?