The Music Next Door

Round 1

Reviewer 1 Report

Comments and Suggestions for Authors

Note: I used "not applicable" or "no answer" to several of the "recommendations" metrics in the journal's review platform. This is not a reflection on the essay's value. Since it is not (and is not trying to be) a traditional academic essay on Shakespeare, many of the standard metrics are irrelevant.

[below is most of the longer review I submitted to the journal; I omitted some material pertaining to scholarship on the topic]

The central question purports to be: why does Shakespeare matter? (to the author, to anyone in particular, to all of us). The essay approaches an answer gradually, and by multiple routes. Most involve reflection on formative personal experience or instances of general observation, informed by mainstream journalists or “bystander Shakespeareans,” such as Bill Bryson. Here, I would note the obvious: this is not an academic account, and so the absence of academic references is not only not a problem, but entirely appropriate. The essay’s appeal is tied up in its successful travel along these routes, and its register, elegant yet informal, makes it a fulfilling read. While the guest editor will of course be best positioned to judge its appropriateness for the volume, I would expect it fills a particular need in the issue, and I would recommend it for publication with minor revisions.

As a personal story about encounters with Shakespeare, it could be heavy-handed and formulaic, but it is not. While it traffics in some of the topoi of saved-by-Shakespeare narratives, it is thoughtful, smart, and engaging—the easy work of a polished professional.

The first half focuses on Doris Held and the history of the Old Cambridge Shakespeare Club, punctuated with observations about the author’s early exposure to Shakespeare. The second half addresses the question of the significance of Shakespeare to the writer. It comprises several “Shakespeare moment[s]”—the writer’s, and those of others—and sketches a series of evolving, provisional answers (427) to why Shakespeare might matter today, despite the decline of his cultural profile.

The first half also offers a recent regional history of Shakespeare reading groups, registering the waning cultural dominance of Shakespeare in the fragmentation of Shakespeare reading groups, correlated with the decline in their stateliness and their formalities. This sets up ensuing commentary on Shakespeare nicely.

The sections on Julius Caesar allow the writer to reflect, obliquely and at a distance, on contemporary politics and the mood of violence and insurrection that underpins the current day. I found this necessary and nicely done.

On Doris Held (and Shakespeare reading groups) vs. the significance of Shakespeare for the writer: a loosely coordinated cooperation that isn’t overburdened. This allows the piece to be more a meditation several topical strands than a fixed, thesis-driven reflection. In other words, the piece doesn’t really decide whether its focus is Doris or the significance of Shakespeare (for the author, for the west). This is by design, I imagine. Shakespeare emerges as common property that everyone occupies differently. For the writer, it is language-based, centered on poetry, rather than ethos-based, where the historical Shakespeare might be a centerpiece. I appreciated this balance, which worked for me.

Suggestions for revision are offered with the caveat that the qualifications of an academic peer-reviewer don’t necessarily apply to this genre. As a general reader, however, my sense is a very minor re-balancing of the major movements could give the essay a more pronounced shape. Its current framework functions well enough, but it could be refined a bit for clarity without altering the balance it achieves among its various components.

The author introduces the  Shakespeare performance disaster story at 112, and the story itself arrives shortly after 409. I’m undecided about whether more should be done to link these two moments, so I draw attention to them in case other reviewers had relevant comments. Too much formal coherence or structure could push the essay into formula territory, something the author has in this version deftly avoided. I’d recommend that revisions not alter that feature.

The “Harriet” section could use some minor tidying and clarification. It took multiple readings to work out the setting up of the main characters and to distinguish them from the roles they played in the theatrical productions at Davidson. It might be indicated more immediately that the writer plays Hamlet in Poor Murderer (?), and since Hamlet/Hamlet competes with Brutus and Benedick in the author’s “Shakespeare moment” stories, I thought the light touch here (at lines 516-519) was too light. Also, I’ll note that it takes careful reading to understand that Harriet is only a “real-life Beatrice,” and not also Beatrice in Much Ado. Just a little bit of hand-holding / clarification here.  

The line “Harriet leads to Doris, I am quite sure” (494) recognizes the reader’s need for the piece to tie together the author’s formative Shakespeare moment (vis-à-vis Harriet) and a principal subject of the essay (Doris Held). I thought this connection could be articulated more directly, or simply explored more fully.  

Finally, the payoff moment on the final page calls back to the paragraph beginning at line 237. This connection could be strengthened with another signposting reference or two in the space between, and perhaps by the mention of the name John Ford—or by the naming of My Darling Clementine in the early paragraph. While readers will likely make the connection, the early Ford paragraph sits amidst a string of Shakespeare references that obscure the importance it will come to have in the closing paragraphs.

Author Response

Comments 1: 

As a general reader, however, my sense is a very minor re-balancing of the major movements could give the essay a more pronounced shape. Its current framework functions well enough, but it could be refined a bit for clarity without altering the balance it achieves among its various components.

The author introduces the  Shakespeare performance disaster story at 112, and the story itself arrives shortly after 409. I’m undecided about whether more should be done to link these two moments, so I draw attention to them in case other reviewers had relevant comments. Too much formal coherence or structure could push the essay into formula territory, something the author has in this version deftly avoided. I’d recommend that revisions not alter that feature.

Response 1: While I very much appreciate this note and have tried in instances to address the matter of greater coherence, I feel strongly that the top would suffer if I tried to pull those strands more tightly and quickly together. Thank you for acknowledging the difficulty of that attempt. Rather than undertake a revision that could lead me down too many blind alleys on the current deadline, I'm going to leave that section alone. Let me say again, though, that I am truly grateful for your observation for the the generous and humbling words of praise that precede this first suggestion.

Comment 2: 

The “Harriet” section could use some minor tidying and clarification. It took multiple readings to work out the setting up of the main characters and to distinguish them from the roles they played in the theatrical productions at Davidson. It might be indicated more immediately that the writer plays Hamlet in Poor Murderer (?), and since Hamlet/Hamlet competes with Brutus and Benedick in the author’s “Shakespeare moment” stories, I thought the light touch here (at lines 516-519) was too light. Also, I’ll note that it takes careful reading to understand that Harriet is only a “real-life Beatrice,” and not also Beatrice in Much Ado. Just a little bit of hand-holding / clarification here.  

Response 2: I agree completely with this note and have attempted to clarify the passages you mention in the following way:

Benedick is the male lead of the comedy Much Ado About Nothing, and this is how Shakespeare became a living spirit for me: not through the language on the page, but through the experience of surviving the speaking of that language on the stage, more specifically through the surviving of that language on a stage in front of an audience that contained the one person I truly wanted to impress, a ginger-haired British exchange student named Harriet.

To be clear, she didn’t play the role of the  female lead of Beatrice in my production of Much Ado. She was the real Beatrice in my life at the time, an actual romantic sparring partner who happened to be English and a harsh judge of performance.

If I say Shakespeare is about survival to me, in the end, and for all time, it’s due to Harriet.

Harriet leads to Doris, I am quite sure, but it is a torturous path.

 

                                                               *

 

The first time I ever had lunch with Harriet, she told me four things about herself in one sentence, and by the time the sentence ended, I was in. “I’m a hedonist, an atheist, a Marxist, and a feminist,” she said, by way of a warning.

I met her at the start of the spring semester when I would be performing Much Ado for an audience. When I signed up for that class the previous semester, I had no idea I might be trying to woo a young English woman by declaiming Shakespeare, but that project quickly began to develop a momentum of its own. She and three other British students, another young woman and two guys, had come to Davidson on a half-year fellowship created by Dean Rusk, former Secretary of State to Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, to foster transatlantic understanding.

Harriet and Caroline were the women, James and Tom were the men. They took classes with a light touch. Grades were the least of their concerns. Their mandate and mission was to experience America in full, and so it went. They burst onto our sleepy North Carolina campus and into my life like roving players occupying a medieval village. When they cleared out, so did I.

It began with a show, like most good stuff in that era for me. All of us tried out for the Davidson Theater Department’s production of Pawel Kohout’s absurdist work Poor Murderer, which told the story of a mock trial in an asylum, orchestrated by a psychiatrist and meant to determine whether one of the inmates has purposefully murdered a fellow inmate or accidentally killed him in the delirium of his performance as Hamlet. (Kohout  1976)

Yes, Hamlet.

This is what I’m getting at, really. For one brief moment, Shakespeare was everything and everywhere, all at once, directing my action as if I had been caught in one of his comedies, as, in fact, I had. This was not a play, though it was surrounded by plays. This was my life, scripted by the Bard.

He had even provided in my actual presence native players to authenticate the scene, a romantic heroine with the very accent that was required to ground the play of emotions in a workable reality. Yes, it could be seen as a production hindrance that the male lead was a pale Texan who had never spoken a line of Elizabethan verse in front of an audience before, but in the end, as any veteran director might tell you, it was an obstacle that made the comedy that was for a few brief weeks my life.

Harriet and Tom did not get parts in Poor Murderer, but Caroline and James did. That was good news. Hat, as Harriet was known, spent all her time with Cas, as Caroline was known, which meant she would turn up at rehearsals, and James had known both of them in school back in England, so could always provide witty context and strategic counsel, which mostly amounted to, “Be careful with that one, John. Harriet’s notorious.”

My rehearsals for Much Ado tracked exactly with the work on Poor Murderer, which meant I was practicing to play Benedick and a version of Polonius at the same time; my friend Roy got the part of the inmate playing Hamlet, and I was the analyst Polonius who would be his murder victim. I felt like one of those Globe players who might be a King one night and a Queen the next.

 It was one of those glorious southern springs with the smell of magnolia blossoms in the air, and I was becoming ever more deeply infatuated with Hat. Catching sight of her as she and Cas flounced across the green in their light summer frocks between school buildings had a tinge of erotic nostalgia, as if I had known these visions once before, long ago, in another life, and the next round of encounter would be even more deliciously annihilating than the last.

My mind was expanding. I had started to question my religious faith and the values of my upbringing, but these were dour and often tedious exercises. The change promised by these British lasses transformed the entire notion of what the world could mean. Existence could mean joy, delight, laughter, abundance of beauty and wit and intelligence and long breakfasts with great coffee and superb breads and cheeses—and sex. James and Tom and Cas belonged to Hat’s world, but Hat heightened it all.   She was the ineffable signal that the road to come would be better than the road behind, and so it turned out to be, if without her.

I invited her to see the play, unwisely. I felt that playing Benedick to her real life Beatrice down in the audience, trading quips about our differences, the Texas rube vs. the English radical, would give my performance an urgent realism and reinforce the two uf us into an actual couple there and then while I was onstage, a miracle, the transubstantiation of flirtation. She would be blown away by what I was doing to the audience—and to her.

Comment 3: 

The line “Harriet leads to Doris, I am quite sure” (494) recognizes the reader’s need for the piece to tie together the author’s formative Shakespeare moment (vis-à-vis Harriet) and a principal subject of the essay (Doris Held). I thought this connection could be articulated more directly, or simply explored more fully.  

Response 3: I agree with this note as well and have attempted to address in the following way:

The road that leads from Harriet to Doris is clear to me. Anyone who has ever been saved by Shakespeare forever after takes him seriously. I do not take his words in vain. The Englishwoman taught me that.

Doris is at the other end of that road. Doris doesn’t judge. Doris believes I can deliver the lines. Doris cast me to read for her as Brutus, after all. If it hadn’t been for Harriet, I wouldn’t even try.

Comment 4: 

Finally, the payoff moment on the final page calls back to the paragraph beginning at line 237. This connection could be strengthened with another signposting reference or two in the space between, and perhaps by the mention of the name John Ford—or by the naming of My Darling Clementine in the early paragraph. While readers will likely make the connection, the early Ford paragraph sits amidst a string of Shakespeare references that obscure the importance it will come to have in the closing paragraphs.

Response 4: You have ponted out a correlation that i missed completely in my draft. Thank you! Tombstone, where My Darling Clementine is set, is not very far from Tucson, where the story in the essay ends, so there is a lovely opportunity to bring this thought full circle, as I've attempted below: 

And there I was less than a hundred miles from Tombstone, the setting of John Ford’s My Darling Clementine, the movie that first gave me my very own authentic experience of understanding Shakespeare.

And then higher up, in the first reference, I made the following change:

Most of the time, this is how Shakespeare comes to me.  Incidentally, haphazardly, intensely.

He springs alive in an unexpected frame.

The  invocation of Hamlet in John Ford’s  My Darling Clementine was like that.

Except the experience felt more like music than language.

It always does.

Elusive, ephemeral, coming in on the beat and vanishing again into silence like a song or a symphony.

Shakespeare is never the music playing through my headphones, though..

He’s the music next door, playing behind the walls of some other house, one that doesn’t belong to me and never will,  the irresistible music overheard, rising when I’m not expecting it, impossible to ignore or forget.

Only once in my life did I get to enter that house and join the band, to pick up an instrument, which was myself, and play for an audience.

Only once did the music next door play inside me. I’ll come back to that story later, but for now what’s crucial to know about the music next door is this.

It was playing again when I got my first email Doris Held.

The music drew me in.

                                                               

 

The music next door, once again, except this time playing on the TV set in my hotel room.

Tears came to my eyes, truly. I won’t say that the Bard was sending a signal through all the vast, black, empty night of the American Southwest into that nondescript space, in an hour perilous for the country and all the people in it, but I felt what I would call an emanation from the outer edge of perception.

Reviewer 2 Report

Comments and Suggestions for Authors

This artfully written essay was a pleasure to read. Since the description of this Special Issue of Humanities specifies that it is “open to all contemporary perspectives” on Shakespeare (including “personal experience in the theater”) and welcomes “various types of essays” (including “personal narrative”), this piece would contribute significantly to the overall balance of the issue and the range of perspectives it includes. The essay neither represents nor engages traditional scholarship and thus cannot be assessed by the same metrics. For this reason, it may be helpful for the author to consider positioning the essay accordingly as early as the abstract, informing readers of its approach, particularly given the context of this journal (and the expectations it might evoke). The writing is original and compelling, thoughtfully reflecting on personal experience as it intersects with the history of an organization devoted to the reading of Shakespeare’s plays. The essay would, I anticipate, appeal to and inspire the interest of readers across a broad spectrum. I’ve included some specific notes below.

• Abstract: the abstract is an enjoyable read and certainly generates interest in the essay that follows. The author might consider adjusting the tone and content of the abstract, however, so that it functions as an overview of the essay in its entirety (rather than duplicating the essay’s introduction). That is, it will be valuable for readers to get from the abstract a sense of the essay’s approach and major concerns overall, in a more comprehensive (yet concise and direct) way. I think the same is true for the keywords identified.
• Line 28: should this email appear as a block quote?
• Line 54: “What is Shakespeare to me?” is a question that has not been yet asked or implied (though the wording and placement here suggest that this is the question this essay is meant to answer). Since this is not an understood assigned prompt for the piece, could the author find a way to clarify this?
• Line 60: I think the tradition is, more specifically, whoever speaks the title aloud in a theatre (rather than writing it in an essay)?
• Line 70: “plebs like us”; I wonder if something more direct could be useful to the reader here (what this seems to mean is people who are not trained actors --as opposed to any kind of socioeconomic distinction?); the connection of this particular term to the discussion of Julius Caesar that is to come could work, but that’s not yet clear at this point.
• Line 75: this wording could be confusing to some readers (“on to something in our chairs”).
• Lines 79-82: positioning this description earlier might be useful in terms of orienting the reader to this group.
• Lines 83-4: This might be a bit difficult to follow.
• Line 86: The revelation that the author has been assigned all of these central characters over the past decade could seem at odds with the essay’s start (“Work, laziness, winter weather, general inertia, you name it: I have used every excuse to decline over the years. Occasionally, though, I attend. This time, on an impulse, I decide to accept”). At the beginning, the author expresses extreme reluctance to participate; by this point, however, the author describes participating frequently over a long period of time--and doing so in leading roles. Might it be helpful to include any further explanation? 
• Line 103: seems to be repeating a version of lines 101-102—might these be consolidated, or grouped together?
• Line 106-107: could this description be made more specific (as with the preceding Lear example)?
• Line 109: could “our thing” be made more specific?
• Line 110: is the “her” necessary?
• Lines 111-115: the author is referring to an insightful set of experiences here that could occupy more time and space (and, indeed, likely deeply inform the author’s approach to this group and this essay). This description feels a bit rushed. *Okay, after noting this, I saw that these experiences ARE fleshed out beautifully later—their brief mention in this earlier spot may or may not give other readers pause, as happened for me.
• Line 123: possibly eliminate repetition of “day”?
• Line 129: possibly eliminate “, tragedy,” (?)
• Line 133: possibly add “Shakespeare play”?
• Line 139: It might make sense to follow “grownups” with a colon to introduce the list that follows.
• Lines 144-148: Would it be suitable, in the context of this journal, to include specific citations for all references here (the line itself, along with the other media cited)?
• Line 158: As a reader, I would love to see this conclusion connect more clearly to its set-up. Is the problem about gender and clothing (“dudes in dresses”), about the lack of guns (“knifing”), about fairness in fighting (“unarmed”), about betrayal (“pal”)…? And what do these have to do with Clint Eastwood’s line, cited just prior? From my perspective, more precision with the connection/contrast could be effective.
• Line 163: possibly cite the reference for “Kill the pig!” and make that connection overt for those who may not recall it?
• Lines 187-193: Should this become a block quotation?
• Lines 197-98: possibly remove quotation marks around “pretension” and add them here: “He ain’t no Shakespeare!”
• Lines 199-205: I think lines 201-203 are describing a particular meme; this could be hard for some readers to follow.
• Lines 220-221: consider providing context or further explanation for the “meat and potatoes” comment.
• Lines 221-236: As opposed to only listing experiences viewing Shakespeare on stage and screen, might the author consider identifying the specific impact of each experience or otherwise connect such experiences to the essay’s chief concerns more overtly? In the edition of the journal for which the essay has been submitted, I expect a degree of exposure to Shakespeare in performance may be assumed, that is?
• Lines 254ff: this example is a powerful one; I think more time could be spent analyzing it. Also, the citation formatting seems to need consistency?
• Lines 274-278: The “music next door” imagery could benefit from further fleshing out. I do not recall it having been mentioned before; readers may find it challenging to follow the train of thought.
• Lines 296-302: This description is quite lovely.
• Lines 359-360: Can the author explain this?
• Lines 361ff: The descriptions that follow are incredibly interesting—can the author further clarify the specific significance of each one? And offer a sense of how thorough a history this section offers when it comes to the records of the OCSA? If incomplete, why where these particular bits chosen over others? More explanation along these lines could be helpful.
• Line 409: Might it make sense to consider, if this is the question the essay is trying to answer, why it matters to do so? That is, to what end? 
• Lines 427-51: What a fantastic story.
• Lines 498ff: Yet again—this story is completely captivating.
• Line 617; 622; 660: citation formatting on these?

Author Response

Comment 1: 

• Abstract: the abstract is an enjoyable read and certainly generates interest in the essay that follows. The author might consider adjusting the tone and content of the abstract, however, so that it functions as an overview of the essay in its entirety (rather than duplicating the essay’s introduction). That is, it will be valuable for readers to get from the abstract a sense of the essay’s approach and major concerns overall, in a more comprehensive (yet concise and direct) way. I think the same is true for the keywords identified.

Response 1: Agree. I have rewritten the abstract below to address this concern, which is completely valid.

ABSTRACT: Ninety-five-year-old Doris Held, a great niece of Sigmund Freud, has been convening the Shakespeare Reading Group in Northampton, Massachusetts, my hometown, since she moved here in 2016. In the following essay, which is a personal response to my experience of this group of Shakespearean readers, to Doris Held and to the work of Shakespeare in general, I attempt to chart the full impact of the Bard’s work on my life and on the world around me. The style is loose, the tone conversational. I am neither a scholar nor a historian. In a true sense, I am a bystander Shakespearean, who has received deep reward and benefit from the experience, but it  is Doris Held and her group who opened my eyes to the precise nature of this unexamined reward. Doris brought the spirit of the group from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where she had been a dues-paying member for decades of something called the Old Cambridge Shakespeare Association, which itself dates to 1880. My wife Debra and I attended the first meeting in Northampton more than a decade ago, and we have been receiving emails from Doris four times a year ever since. While these communications often induce guilt, they invariably lead to pleasures that I would never want to relinquish. That is a complicated dynamic in my routine, and I try to grapple with its ebb and flow in the pages that follow.. Each time I get one, I have a version of the same conversation in my head. Is Doris still doing this? Haven’t they done all the plays by now? All things considered, wouldn’t they—and I—rather be home watching a true crime documentary about Gaby Petito on Netflix? What the hell is William Shakespeare to me anyway? This is the uiltimate question for this essay. A voluntary Shakespeare reading group should be the easiest thing in the world to walk away from, but it is more like trying to leave an unwanted love affair than like excusing oneself from a lecture series that has worn out its welcome. This conflict in myself inspired me to write the essay. At this point, if I’m honest, Shakespeare is Doris. The experience with this group led me in two directions. One took me back to my now long ago history with Shakespeare’s work as an actor in college. The other took me via historical research into the prehistory of Doris Held’s previous Shakespeare group in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The two paths gave me a deeper grasp of the influence of his work across the world and on my own life.

Keywords: Doris Held; Shakespeare; Shakespeare reading groups; Shakespeare in cinema; Shakespeare in theatre; Cambridge; Massachusetts; communications; Julius Caesar; Davidson College; performance; Much Ado About Nothing; Poor Murderer; Hamlet; John Ford; Clint Eastwood; My Darling Clementine.

Comment 2

• Line 28: should this email appear as a block quote?

Response 2: Agree. It helps to isolate and emphasize the passage.

Comment 3

• Line 54: “What is Shakespeare to me?” is a question that has not been yet asked or implied (though the wording and placement here suggest that this is the question this essay is meant to answer). Since this is not an understood assigned prompt for the piece, could the author find a way to clarify this?

Response 3: Conflicted. I'm concerned that trying to address this note in a more formally rigorous way might undermine the tonal approach at a crucial moment of setting the terms for that apporach. In other words, "What is Shakespeare to me?" feels like a conversational style of language that most readers would quickly grasp. Having said that, I have looked at the passage again and attempted below to slightly sharpen the sense of intent:

It should be easy to walk away from this group and never look back. During my college years, when I felt that my Christian evangelical faith had collapsed under the weight of too many inconvenient questions about human suffering, I ended my leadership of Wednesday night Bible study with no regrets. Renouncing my allegiance to this Shakespeare reading group would leave me far more conflicted, as if I were trying to end a love affair that hadn’t yet run its course.

What is Shakespeare to me that he should require such loyalty? This is the question I ask myself.

At this point, if I’m honest, the answer is extremely local.

Shakespeare is Doris.

Comment 4

• Line 60: I think the tradition is, more specifically, whoever speaks the title aloud in a theatre (rather than writing it in an essay)?

Response 4: Agree. I have changed the passage to read:

Doris never does an entire play in one sitting, not even a short one like Macbeth which was our first undertaking way back in 2016. On that occasion, I learned about the hoary theatrical tradition that a curse lies upon whoever speaks the original name of that play aloud in a theatre. We were sitting in her home, far from the boards and danger, but in a spirit of caution, we called Macbeth “the Scottish Play” instead. There was a shiver of thrill in that gesture.

Comment 5

• Line 70: “plebs like us”; I wonder if something more direct could be useful to the reader here (what this seems to mean is people who are not trained actors --as opposed to any kind of socioeconomic distinction?); the connection of this particular term to the discussion of Julius Caesar that is to come could work, but that’s not yet clear at this point.

Response 5: Agree. I have modified the passage as follows:

Forget auditions. Still, getting normies like us to read the lines in such a way that they cohere takes a certain amount of concentration and effort from everyone in the room.

Comment 6

• Line 75: this wording could be confusing to some readers (“on to something in our chairs”).

Response 6: Agree. I have attempted to address as follows:

Each line is an act of exploration. That may sound overly dramatic, an inflated sense of the exercise, but I believe that we arrive somewhere new in our chairs. We discover Shakespeare together.

Comment 7

• Lines 79-82: positioning this description earlier might be useful in terms of orienting the reader to this group.

Response 7: Agree. I have moved that paragraph up.

Comment 8

• Lines 83-4: This might be a bit difficult to follow.

Response 8: Agree. I have modified as follows:

One benefit of reading parts of a play over multiple meetings is a sense of opportunity. Every time we meet, Doris changes the cast, giving  the same role to different readers. No one who starts as Lear ends as Lear.   Everyone gets a shot at a soliloquy.

Comment 9

• Line 86: The revelation that the author has been assigned all of these central characters over the past decade could seem at odds with the essay’s start (“Work, laziness, winter weather, general inertia, you name it: I have used every excuse to decline over the years. Occasionally, though, I attend. This time, on an impulse, I decide to accept”). At the beginning, the author expresses extreme reluctance to participate; by this point, however, the author describes participating frequently over a long period of time--and doing so in leading roles. Might it be helpful to include any further explanation? 

Response 9: Agree. This definitely needs clarification. I have attempted to address as follows:

Over the past decade, On those rare occasions when I have managed to attend, I have been cast as Macbeth, King Lear, Prospero, Benedick and Hamlet. 

Higher up, I have added another line that might be helpful:

If I had to estimate, I’d guess eight times in nine years.

Comment 10

• Line 103: seems to be repeating a version of lines 101-102—might these be consolidated, or grouped together?

Response 10: Agree. I have modified the line as follows:

All effort is welcome, as long as everyone makes an earnest attempt at the iambic pentameter. 

Comment 11

• Line 106-107: could this description be made more specific (as with the preceding Lear example)?

Response 11: Not sure what is being referred to here, as the numbers don't align.

Comment 12

• Line 109: could “our thing” be made more specific?

Response 12: Agree. I have modified the line as follows:

.This is a chief joy of our communion, really.

• Line 110: is the “her” necessary?

Response 13: Agree. I cut the pronoun.

Comment 13

• Lines 111-115: the author is referring to an insightful set of experiences here that could occupy more time and space (and, indeed, likely deeply inform the author’s approach to this group and this essay). This description feels a bit rushed. *Okay, after noting this, I saw that these experiences ARE fleshed out beautifully later—their brief mention in this earlier spot may or may not give other readers pause, as happened for me.

Response 13: Thanks for this comment. I would hesitate to change, as this sort of delayed gratification is part of the deep style of the piece.

Comment 14

• Line 123: possibly eliminate repetition of “day”?

Response 15: Agree. I have modified as follows:

If Shakespeare Judgment Day ever comes, Doris Held will sit on the advisory board. 

• Line 129: possibly eliminate “, tragedy,” (?)

Response 16: Agree. Thanks for catching the typo.

Comment 17

• Line 133: possibly add “Shakespeare play”?

Response 17: Agree. I have  added the descriptive:

Before the next meeting, I told myself, I must read everything, the introduction, the annotations, all five acts of the Shakespeare play. 

Comment 18:

• Line 139: It might make sense to follow “grownups” with a colon to introduce the list that follows.

Response 18: Agree. I have added the semicolon:

On the contrary, it seems to address matters that are hard to bear for grown-ups; whether to submit to tyranny or not; whether to resort to violence in the face of that tyranny; and how to bear the consequences of political murder.   What could be more deadly serious?

Comment 19

• Lines 144-148: Would it be suitable, in the context of this journal, to include specific citations for all references here (the line itself, along with the other media cited)?

Response 19: Agree for the mention of Little Rascals:

4)Meins, Gus. 1935.  Little Rascals. Episode 135. “Beginner’s Luck”. Metro Goldwyn Mayer.

Comment 20

• Line 158: As a reader, I would love to see this conclusion connect more clearly to its set-up. Is the problem about gender and clothing (“dudes in dresses”), about the lack of guns (“knifing”), about fairness in fighting (“unarmed”), about betrayal (“pal”)…? And what do these have to do with Clint Eastwood’s line, cited just prior? From my perspective, more precision with the connection/contrast could be effective.

Response 20: Agree. I have addressed as follows:

Half a dozen dudes in dresses knifing an unarmed pal seemed, at best, bad sportsmanship;  at worst, their act represented  bloody cowardice that could elicit no sympathy and could never be excused by oaths of loyalty or pretty speeches. The cinematic heroes of my youth spoke their few words as pronouncements of a decision already made. Often enough, their gunfire ended the sentence. Shooting an unarmed man was the mark of a villain, and a trusting soul rarely made it to the final reel of the movie. Period. Julius Caesar didn’t honor these rules.

Comment 21

• Line 163: possibly cite the reference for “Kill the pig!” and make that connection overt for those who may not recall it?

Response 21: Agree. I have addressed as follows:

An unforgettable line from William Golding’s tale of childhood savagery  Lord of the Flies hovered in the air: “Kill the pig!”

• Lines 187-193: Should this become a block quotation?

Response 22: Not sure

Comment 23

• Lines 197-98: possibly remove quotation marks around “pretension” and add them here: “He ain’t no Shakespeare!”

Response 23: Agree. Have addressed as follows:

At the same time, his name long ago became an enduring synonym for “genius”, for “writer,” or, alternatively, for writerly pretension.

“He ain’t no Shakespeare!”

Comment 24

• Lines 199-205: I think lines 201-203 are describing a particular meme; this could be hard for some readers to follow.

Response 24: Disagree. It runs counter to the style of the piece to explain each and every example of a passage that certain readers might not understand. While I understand the concern and have tried to address these kinds of notes elsewhere, an attempt to parse out the meaning of a "meme" or of the term itself would be a burden on the text that would not enhance the reader's experience in general.

Comment 25

• Lines 220-221: consider providing context or further explanation for the “meat and potatoes” comment.

Response 24: Disagree. As in the response to comment 23, I feel that certain colloquialisms are well enough understood by most readers  to serve the point. 

Comment 25

• Lines 221-236: As opposed to only listing experiences viewing Shakespeare on stage and screen, might the author consider identifying the specific impact of each experience or otherwise connect such experiences to the essay’s chief concerns more overtly? In the edition of the journal for which the essay has been submitted, I expect a degree of exposure to Shakespeare in performance may be assumed, that is?

Response 25: Disagree. The theatrical experiences feel nicely paced, and I'm afraid that going into greater detail here about them might steal thunder from the later sections about my experience of Shakespeare performance. I have attempted to address the note, however, as it pertains to the following note below about the John Ford film:

Comment 26

• Lines 254ff: this example is a powerful one; I think more time could be spent analyzing it. Also, the citation formatting seems to need consistency?

Response 26: Agree. I have attempted to address as follows:

It is a moment of tremendous, unexpected emotion, an outlaw yearning for his own death in lines he learned long before in a long-lost world of East Coast education. Right before my eyes, this camera removed the language of Shakespeare from unfamiliar and formal settings and planted it right in the middle of the mythological heart of my Texas roots. The meaning of the words needed no translation or explanation. I had them instantly and understood them well for the first time in my life. This gunslinger wanted to die, but could not bring himself to the act. He was hypnotized, in a sense, by his own indecision.

Shakespeare’s language did not obscure the point. It made the point.

It rendered the scene profound.

Comment 27

• Lines 274-278: The “music next door” imagery could benefit from further fleshing out. I do not recall it having been mentioned before; readers may find it challenging to follow the train of thought.

Response 27: Agree. I have attempted to give more context and substance to my leap to this metaphor for the experience as follows:

Most of the time, this is how Shakespeare comes to me.  Incidentally, haphazardly, intensely.

He springs alive in an unexpected frame.

He is more music than language. Elusive, ephemeral, coming in on the beat and vanishing again into silence like a song or a symphony.

He’s never playing through my headphones or in the room.

He’s the music next door, playing behind the walls of some other house, one that doesn’t belong to me and never will,  the irresistible music overheard, rising when I’m not expecting it, impossible to ignore.

Only once in my life did I get to enter that house and join the band, to pick up an instrument, which was myself, and play for an audience.

Only once,, the music next door played inside me.

That’s what made it impossible to say no when I first heard about Doris Held.

The music, playing again, drew me in.

Comment 28

• Lines 296-302: This description is quite lovely.

Response 28: Thank you.

Comment 29

• Lines 359-360: Can the author explain this?

Response 29: Not sure what this refers to as the numbers don't align.

Comment 30

• Lines 361ff: The descriptions that follow are incredibly interesting—can the author further clarify the specific significance of each one? And offer a sense of how thorough a history this section offers when it comes to the records of the OCSA? If incomplete, why where these particular bits chosen over others? More explanation along these lines could be helpful.

Response 30: Agree. I have attempted to address as follows. Having said that, there are limits to my further access to this material, whicn Doris Held gave me only brief access to:

What follows is a small sample of the whole, which consists mostly of invitations to readings of various plays over a span of decades from roughly 1960 to 2000.  For purposes of this essay, I chose moments that seemed representative of the cultural and communal values of the group in certain moments of its history.

For instance, I come across an invitation from the Shakespeare Club of Boston to members of the OCSA to join a reading of Julius Caesar on Monday evening, March 15, 1976, at 7:30 p.m., roughly two years after Nixon resigned from the White House in the wake of the Watergate scandal, another era when hints of treason and tyranny were in the air.

Comment 31

• Line 409: Might it make sense to consider, if this is the question the essay is trying to answer, why it matters to do so? That is, to what end? 

Response 31: I humbly submit that the entire essay is the answer to that question.

Comment 32

• Lines 427-51: What a fantastic story.

Response 32: Thank you.

Comment 33

• Lines 498ff: Yet again—this story is completely captivating.

Response 33: Thank you.

Comment 34:

• Line 617; 622; 660: citation formatting on these?

Response 34: Agree. I have attempted to conform as suggested.