Anthony Burgess - A Dead Man in Deptford (Burgess, Anthony)

Its a splendidly atmospheric re-creation of the life of eminent Elizabethan playwright and poet Christopher Marlowe . lush, elegant writing Burgesss sense of smelly bodies, religious fanaticism, and death lurking around every corner is immaculate. A delicious engagement of the past for every fiction lover.

-Booklist

A dishy historical tabloid laced with an intriguing portrait of Marlowe.

-Chicago Sun-Times

A tour de force re-creation of Elizabethan life . No reader can fail to be deeply moved.

-Detroit Free Press

A brilliant and totally reliable historical novel An amazing tour de force.

-Houston Chronicle

A daring romp through history, theology, sex, language, and espionage . A disarmingly realistic literary thriller with Marlowe as its hero . Burgess has mastered, as perhaps only he could, the arch, quasipoetic diction of the period, along with a welter of details, from clothes to cuisine . A fitting final tribute from one great English writer to the genius of another.

-Kirkus Reviews (starred)

One of this prolific authors finest books. Burgess brilliantly evokes the murky world of Elizabethan politics.

-Library Journal

A vivid, mordant portrait a remarkably quick read.

-Miami Herald

A humdinger from one of the finest writers of the last half of this century.

-Minneapolis Star-Tribune

A lushly written novel of international intrigue This gripping novel contains magnificent re-creations.

-Newsday

A lavish display of linguistics and historical erudition worn lightly. A vivid description of Elizabethan theatre.

-Philadelphia Inquirer

A masterly piece of work [that] reflects the authors magical sense of language and his deep immersion in the Elizabethan ethos . Burgesss command of his material is absolute and he brings a lifetimes linguistic and fictional gifts to this headlong, shining, cruel portrait of a terrifying-but posthumously gloriousage.

-Publishers Weekly (starred)

A superb re-creation of the Age of Elizabeth giving us a correct view of Marlowe.

-Richmond Times-Dispatch

An absorbing and rewarding story about a fascinating man.

-St. Louis Post-Dispatch

Much more than an artful thriller . It is fitting and proper that this final novel should be a masterpiece of its kind-a true triumph.

-Washington Times

ANTHONY BURGESS was born John Burgess Wilson in 1917 in Manchester and educated at the University of Manchester, where he studied music. After fulfilling his National Service in Gibraltar, he joined the colonial service as an education officer and taught English literature in Malaya and Borneo. During this period he wrote the novels that would form The Malayan Trilogy, but it was not until he returned to England in 1960, having been incorrectly diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, that he turned seriously to writing. In what he called his pseudo-terminal year, he tried to provide his prospective widow with future income by writing four novels, including One Hand Clapping. Over the course of his literary career, spent in England, Europe, and America, he would write over fifty books and dozens of musical works, including operas, choral works and song cycles, as well as innumerable articles for British, American, French and Italian newspapers and magazines, which were partly collected in One Mans Chorus. His best-known novels are A Clockwork Orange, the Booker Prize-shortlisted Earthly Powers, and the Enderby novels-Inside Mr. Enderby, Enderby Outside, The Clockwork Testament, or Enderbys End, and Enderbys Dark Lady-all collected in The Complete Enderby. Although his erudition never received formal scholarly certification, he was a Visiting Fellow of Princeton University and a Distinguished Professor of City College, New York. His lifelong love of Shakespeare found expression in his novel Nothing Like the Sun, a popular biography, and an unproduced epic screenplay, Will!. He died in 1993 after publishing A Dead Man in Deptford. His last novel, Byrne, was published a year after his death.

The Long Day Wanes:

Time for a Tiger

The Enemy in the Blanket

Beds in the East

The Right to an Answer

The Doctor is Sick

The Worm and the Ring

Devil of a State

One Hand Clapping

A Clockwork Orange

The Wanting Seed

Honey for the Bears

Inside Mr. Enderby

Nothing like the Sun: A Story of Shakespeares Love-Life

The Eve of Saint Venus

A Vision of Battlements

Tremor of Intent

Enderby Outside

Napoleon Symphony

The Clockwork Testament; or, Enderbys End

Beards Roman Women

Abba Abba

Man of Nazareth

1985

Earthly Powers

The End of the World News

Enderbys Dark Lady

The Kingdom of the Wicked

The Pianoplayers

Any Old Iron

The Devils Mode (short stories)

Little Wilson and Big God

Youve Had Your Time

A Long Trip to Teatime

The Land Where the Ice Cream Grows

Oberon Old and New

Blooms of Dublin

Moses

English Literature: A Survey for Students

They Wrote in English (in Italy only)

Language Made Plain

Here Comes Everybody: An Introduction to James Joyce for the Ordinary Reader

The Novel Now: A Students

Guide to Contemporary Fiction

Urgent Copy: Literary Studies

Shakespeare

Joysprick: An Introduction to the Language of James Joyce

New York

Hemingway and His World

On Going to Bed

This Man and Music

Homage to Quert Yuiop

Mozart and the Wolf Gang

A Mouthful of Air

The New Aristocrats

The Olive Trees of Justice

The Man Who Robbed Poor Boxes

Cyrano de Bergerac

Oedipus the King

A Shorter Finnegans Wake

Anthony Burgess

To Sam Wanamaker (and family) as a tribute to his courage in bringing back from the dead a playhouse that Marlowe never knew

o U must and will suppose (fair or foul reader, but wheres the difference?) that I suppose a heap of happenings that I had no eye to eye knowledge of or concerning. What though a man supposes is oft (often if you will) of the right and very substance of his seeing. There was a philosopher who spoke of the cat that mews to be let out and then mews to be let in again. In the interim, does it exist? There is in its all the solipsist tendency which is a simulacrum of the sustentive power of the Almighty, namely what we hold in the eye exists, remove the eye or let it be removed therefrom and there is disintegration total if temporary. But of the time of the cats absence a man may also rightly suppose that it is fully and corporeally in the world down to its last whisker. And so let it be with my cat or Kit. I must suppose that what I suppose of his doings behind the back of my viewings is of the nature of a stout link in the chain of his being, lost to my seeing, not palpable but of necessity existent. I know little. I was but a small actor and smaller play-botcher who observed him intermittently though indeed knew him in a very palpable sense (the Holy Bible speaks or speaketh of such unlawful knowing), that is to say on the margent of his life, though time is proving that dim eyes and dimmer wits confounded the periphery with the centre.