It was whilst enjoying the magic of Maggie O'Farrell's novel about Shakespeare earlier this year that it struck me that it might be worthwhile to reread Anthony Burgess's fictional account of the love-life of the Bard, Nothing Like the Sun. And it turns out that it was worthwhile, if only to enjoy the linguistic fireworks involved.
The earlier novel has none of O'Farrell's impressive emotional power - the death of Hamnet in Burgess's work left me entirely dry-eyed - but it's hugely entertaining and deals far more with WS as a working dramatist. And it too captures something of the feel of daily life in the period in a way that's sometimes little short of magical.
Anyway, there's no competition involved. Good to have read both novels (though I doubt I'll be paying either any further visit. It's time to move on.)
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