The poetry of William Shakespeare runs the gamut from vulgar humour through to exquisite expressions of supreme love, touching at some point on every stage between the two. In his plays and in his poems he showed a remarkable understanding and fascination with the effects of desire, of both the purest and most impure kind. Stanley Well’s new book, Shakespeare, Sex, and Love, examines how this manifested itself in Shakespeare’s work through his career, as well as discussing the attitude to sex which existed in 16^th Century England. Of particular interest to Wells is Shakespeare’s handling of the often difficult relationship between sex and love, a theme which gave rise to much of his greatest poetry and most memorable dramatic situations. Wells strikes a welcome balance between the excessive lubricity of some commentators, and the po-faced Puritanism of others, moving expertly from discussions of minor characters ‘bawdy quibbles’ to the idealised verse of major ones. He also deftly weaves analyses of the content with analyses of the medium, demonstrating how Shakespeare’s facility with blank verse, rhymed verse and prose allowed him to suggest a change of mood in the very texture of his writing.

Unfortunately, there are number of problems with the book. The writing style, though exceptionally readable and clear, is marred by a troubling habit of repetition. For example, on page 58 Wells writes: “none of Shakespeare’s verse is homoerotic in the manner of Marlowe, Barnfield, and Drayton.” On page 63 we read: “Though Shakespeare’s sonnets include expressions of love for a man, none of them is explicitly homoerotic in the manner of Marlowe, Barnfield, and Drayton.” Whatever one thinks of this as a position on the sonnets, and Don Paterson certainly takes an opposing view in his recent book, the reiteration seems superfluous. This is not the only example of needless duplication, and it suggests a dim view of the reader’s memory.

Had such repetition been cut out, there may have been more room for analyse of Shakespeare’s work, which often seems unfortunately brief. Wells’s critical eye is astute and it is a pleasure to view again many well-known passages with its aid, but all too often the discussions are cut short so that the next play in the cannon can be turned to. Wells calls Anthony and Cleopatra “Shakespeare’s most complex exploration of the intricate entanglements of lust and love.”, yet this prime example of the book’s theme is given only seven pages, while The Tempest, “Shakespeare’s most thoughtful and extended consideration of the relationship between love and lust” warrants but four. Wells could perhaps have examined his topic in far more detail had he concentrated on just half a dozen appropriate plays, as opposed to such a cursory glance at so many. As an introduction to Shakespeare’s handling of the perennial topics of love and lust, Stanley Wells book has many merits; however, it may leave some readers craving a work of more specificity and depth.

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