There was a story about this book on NPR this morning that I found absolutely amazing. Can you imagine a time in American history where common, everyday people would get into DEADLY battles over who they thought was the better interpreter of Shakespeare?
I always thought it was strange that the old Westerns had the traveling entertainers performing Shakespeare at the local saloon.
Equally strange that dear Oscar was a huge hit out West. Does this tie in with our previous low-brow discussion?
Nowadays you can’t even find someone to thumb-wrestle you over the merits of Eugene O’Neill on the world tragic stage. I tried.
All right, Eli wins. I nominate Eli for full membership.
Early experimental modernist. Aaaargh!
Seasoned autobiographical lyric realist. Aaaargh!
Ambition to be Aeschylus. Uuuumph!
Sea monologues! Eeergh!
I second the nomination. I like the fact that we are now truly coast to coast. Hear hear. Lichtenbergians shall one day rule the world. If we ever get around to it. There are so many more fun things to do, after all.
So, do I need to officially accept the nomination? I would have done so sooner, but, well, you know…
Now we need to seal it with a fire ritual. No permanent scarring or anything. I mean, not REALLY.
And the nudity is brief, if shocking.