It started with the strange coincidence of two authors with the same name: James Shapiro. One of them writes about Evolutionary Psychology, my field of interest, and the other is a noted critic of the Oxfordian perspective. I stumbled on the latter while purchasing the former, and it appealed to me on many levels — none of them literary. I love biography, so I was interested in Shapiro’s take on Shakespeare’s life. I loved the wit of one of his titles, “Contested Will.” Finally, I like to read about warring belief systems in a field outside my own, where it’s easier to take in stride. So I bought the audiobook and started sneering at Oxfordians along with Shapiro.
Around that time, my work took me to England and I had a chance to visit Stratford-on-Avon. This further schooled me in the orthodox story of the Stratford merchant, and the derision of anyone who questions it. I was so excited by the architecture that I drank it all in. I even bought more biographies of “Shakespeare” at the Birthplace Trust.
Back home, I needed another audiobook to brighten my drive time, and considered another James Shapiro volume. This time I read more of the online comments and stumbled on the fact that academics seem to be 100% in the Stratfordian camp.
That got my attention. I’ve spent most of my life in academia, so I know the pressure to embrace the prevailing paradigm and dismiss facts that don’t fit. I know the rewards you get when you submit and the punishments you get when you don’t. And I know how easy it is to believe in your own objectivity while you’re sifting facts to conform to the reward structure. The unanimity of academics on the authorship question seemed mighty suspicious to me. It motivated me to check out Oxfordians in their own words rather than Shapiro’s words.
The facts are already explained by the many great works of Oxfordian research, so I will only offer a brief interpretation from the perspective of my work in brain science.
We are all born with billions of neurons but no connections between them. We build our connections from experience, starting from birth. Animals are born hard-wired with the survival skills of their ancestors, but we humans are born helpless and vulnerable, and must wire our skills in one neuron at a time. Thus, each of us sees the world through the lens of the neural pathways built from our unique individual experience. Each author obviously does the same.
This is why I was so persuaded by the parallels between DeVere’s life and the Shakespeare canon.
I deeply empathize with the boy who lost his parents and found solace in books. I understand the young man whose wit got him into trouble. I grieve with the disgraced old man who died with the hope that his cousin Horatio would “draw thy breath in pain to tell my story.” This Shakespeare feels more real to me than the Shakespeare of academic theory who is only explained by invoking “genius.” We all benefit by understanding the power of old neural pathways instead of crediting DNA.
— Loretta Breuning
“How I Became an Oxfordian” is edited by Bob Meyers. You may submit your essay on this topic (500 words or less in an editable format such as MS Word), along with a digital photo of yourself, to: communications@shakespeareoxfordfellowship.org. Also include a sentence about yourself (e.g., “John J. Smith is a businessman in San Francisco.”)
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