The connection between them is loose, and the detail included in scenes that this character was absent from is too great. This narrator, writing an account of the dead playwright’s life from a distance of a few decades, is incredibly informed, offering conjecturally recreated scenes of all of the most significant events of Marlowe’s life. For me.Ī Dead Man In Deptford is written in a semi-approximation of British Renaissance prose, yet this is done in such a way as to offer historical colour and appropriate background to the dialogue of Kit and his fellow poets, rather than as a reminder of the drabness of prose before the eighteenth century.īurgess uses as a narrative foil a bit player, an actor who performed in some of Marlowe’s plays and shagged him a few times. Thus, Anthony Burgess’ under three hundred page historical novel about the life of Cristopher Marlowe took me almost a whole week to read. I’ve been working for money during the day a lot, that necessary sin, and it has aggressively decimated the time I have available for both reading and writing. I’ve been busy the last couple of weeks and will continue to be horrendously so for the next few.
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