which reconstructions the evidence allowsnand which it rules out.nIXere we (scientists) apparently partncompany with such writers as MarilynnFrench, even though her approach isnempirical and inductive (so she tells us).nThis book is a study of the gendernprinciples as I see them existing innShakespeare’s work. I did not bringnmy theory to the work; rather, thenwork of Shakespeare, when contrastednwith the work of some twentieth-centurynauthors . . . brought me to seenas I do.nWhat are these gender principles,nthe foci of her book? They are describednby the author as polar opposites, or atnleast the ends of a spectrum of sexijalnattributes; moreover, these end-pointsnare imbued with values: malenessnequates with aggression, power and thenlike; femaleness with compassion, nurturingnand so on. Some lines of thisnsort can be drawn, but who has done it?nThe book’s title, Shakespeare’s Divisionnof Experience, suggests that the allocationnis the bard’s, but at one point Dr.nFrench states: “This is not to say thatnShakespeare thought in terms of a femininenor masculine principle, but he didnunquestionably think in terms of mennand women . . . .” There’s more than anlittle difference between the two conceptionsnof how our visions of the worldnare organized along sexual lines. Malesnand females can be seen: people and thenroles they play are matters of observation—ofnevidence. Masculine and femininenprinciples are abstractions, requiringninterpretation of what is seen (ornread).nMs. French, no doubt, believes hernconception of herself as a scholar isnthat of a literary Linnaeus, discoveringnthe division that the creator has ordainednin his world of plays. However,nI can’t shake the feeling that the “spencies” she sees are, in good part, arbitraryncreatures of her own world view.nTo continue the above quotation, shenholds that “Shakespeare … did unques­nChronicles of Culturentionably think of men and women . . .nnot as similar members of a single species,nbut as very different creatures,nsubject to different needs and desires.n. . .” Fortunately, Ms. Frenchnabsolves Shakespeare of any personalnresponsibility for such a view, for, whilenjoining in the “almost universal derogationnof women,” he is only continuingntraditions which have prevailed sincenthe dawn of our species.nThe fundamental split in humannthinking is not gender but a perceptionnof humans as separate from, differentnfrom nature. This perceptionnwas probably responsible for the survivalnof a species lacking the specialnphysical or perceptual equipment possessednby other surviving animal species.nHumans, rooted in and subjectnto natural environment and naturalnprocesses to the same degree as othern. animals, stood up on their hind legs.nand used what they had—a brain morenpowerful than those of other animals,nand a retractile thumb—to attemptnto control an environment they werennot especially adaptable to.nnnEven if we leave aside the peculiarnsyntax and the whiff of biological determinismnfor which Robert Ardrey ornKonrad Lorenz would have been roastednmercilessly, this hypothetical sketch isnsimply wrong. It is contradicted by thenfacts. Fossil bones and clear humannfootprints over four million years oldnattest to the fact that at a time whennour ancestors were walking around onntwo legs as we do, they were equippednwith brains no larger than those of livingnchimps. We have here, then, a tragedynin the sense of Herbert Spencer: anbeautiful theory killed by an ugly fact.nPerhaps it would be nice if certain thingsnwere true, but not all issues can benjudged by authorial preferences; factsnwill intrude now and again.nIn the final analysis, I suspect thatnthis book will be used more for its abundant,nif terse, plot summaries. Thesencomprise the bulk of the work, and collegenstudents taking their first coursenin Shakespeare will no doubt find themnuseful. I only hope that these readersnwon’t take too seriously the brief introductionnand conclusion from whichnthey might be led to believe that Shakespearenis morally neutral (!) as wellnas antiwoman.nL here is less need to worry thatnmany readers will be misled—or lednanywhere for that matter—by WilliamnLeach’s True Love and Perfect Union.nI’d wager that few of the readers temptednby its extravagant dust-jacket ravesnwill even finish the book, which providesnample ammunition for those intellectualsnwithin and without academe whonmaintain that doctoral dissertationsn• rarely, if ever, make good books. Incidentally,nI should note that I virtuallynknew this book began its existence asna dissertation simply because it readnlike supply in search of demand. Afternall, what publisher would have gonenlooking for a history of the social ideasnof the American feminist movement,n1850-1875? Although there’s no mentionnof the book’s genesis in the Acknowledgmentsn(or anywhere else), an