Excerpt
PROLOGUE NOBODY KNOWS WHO he really was. Let’s start there. That’s not a romantic metaphor. That’s a biographical crisis. We don’t know what he looked like. We barely know what he sounded like. We’ve got six shaky signatures, zero manuscripts in his own hand, and a will that mentions no books. And yet — he’s the most famous writer who ever lived. How? How does a glove-maker’s son from a market town no one had heard of become the operating system of the English language? How does a man who never went to college end up cited more than the Bible? How does one playwright from plague-era England end up shaping every genre, every classroom, every meme, and half the world’s movies? It’s not just...