Before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I wanted to share what I have been thinking about Hamlet for the last five decades, when I first saw the play, read it, and started dreaming and writing about it. Hamlet has now entered me at the molecular level.
For free subscribers: I want readers to ask me any questions at all about the play for their own amusement, bemusement, or for the purposes of writing essays, theses, dissertations, books, poems or stories. Think of me as your own personal Prince of Melancholy.
For paid subscribers: I have several lectures on tap to share with my readers and a fully annotated Act 1, scene 1 of Hamlet that is an experimental work where I imagine that the editorial comments start out as the work of a pedantic Polonius but gradually evolve into the marginal thoughts of Hamlet himself: Hamlet on Hamlet— which is very much in the spirit of this Substack.
Paid subscribers will also be witnesses to the late blossoms of my Hamletic mind as I tilt towards oblivion and entropy— more dust than quintessence.
My own enlivening obsession with the play has resulted in a book about what Hamlet might have been like as a twelve-year-old lad with Yorick alive and well as his mentor in the art of infinite jest.
Prince Hamlet: Söderholm, James P: 9781838127886: Amazon.com: Books
Please judge this book by its cover!
