yendi

I read the miserable story of the play in which [Ophelia] was the one true loving soul. It obviously described the spread of an epidemic brain fever which, like typhoid, was perhaps caused by seepings from the palace graveyard into the Elsinore water supply. From an inconspicuous start among sentries on the battlements the infection spread through prince, king, prime minister and courtiers, causing hallucinations, logomania, and paranoia resulting in inane suspicions and murderous impulses. I imagined myself entering the palace quite early in the drama with all the executive powers of an efficient public health officer. The main carriers of the disease (Claudius, Polonius, and the obviously incurable Hamlet) would be quarantined in separate wards. A fresh water supply and modern efficient plumbing would soon set the Danish state right and Ophelia, seeing this gruff Scottish doctor pointing her people toward a clean and healthy future, would be powerless to withhold her love.
--Godwin Baxter, in Alisdair Gray's Poor Things.

Have I mentioned just how much I adore Alisdair Gray's writing? The character of Baxter, incidentally, is a nineteenth century Scottish mad scientist. All books need characters like him.

This book was an anniversary gift from