Editing William Shakespeare (section)

== === Critical reputation === ==
In Shakespeare’s own lifetime and the decades immediately after, his reputation was that of a talented playwright among many, admired but not yet revered as singular. Early on, voices like Francis Meres in 1598 singled him out as “the most excellent” of the English dramatists in both comedy and tragedy, and the anonymous university playwrights of the ''Parnassus'' comedies around 1601 praise him alongside Chaucer and Spenser. Ben Jonson, Shakespeare’s contemporary and friendly rival, offered a complex appraisal: in the prefatory poem to the First Folio (1623) he lauded Shakespeare as ''“Soul of the age! The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage”'', yet elsewhere Jonson also quipped that Shakespeare had “small Latin and less Greek” (i.e. lacked erudition) and ''“wanted art.”'' Jonson’s dual remarks inadvertently highlight something: Shakespeare did not fit the classical ideal of a learned, polished writer (Jonson himself was more traditionally educated and artful in that sense), but he had a raw creative force that astonished. Jonson’s phrase “wanted art” meant Shakespeare was not formally schooled, but ironically it hints at an ''unconventional process'' behind Shakespeare’s work – something Jonson perhaps perceived but didn’t understand. It’s tempting to think Jonson sensed that Shakespeare’s genius was ''innate and untutored'' (“he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and found her there” Jonson wrote), which aligns with the idea of an internal cognitive gift rather than formal training. In modern terms, Jonson was observing Shakespeare’s '''intuitive systemizing''' talent: he could conjure profound truths about human nature seemingly without needing the usual intellectual scaffolding.

After Shakespeare’s death, during the Restoration (1660s) and into the 18th century, tastes shifted to favor stricter classical rules. Critics like Thomas Rymer criticized Shakespeare for mixing tragedy and comedy and for his “irregular” plots. For a time, Shakespeare was actually rated below more decorous dramatists like Ben Jonson or the French classicists. This was the literary establishment’s discomfort with Shakespeare’s rule-breaking – an echo of how neurotypical society sometimes reacts to autistic unconventionality. Voltaire in the 18th century called Shakespeare a barbarian with occasional flashes of genius, reflecting that disapproval of his wild, unrefined elements. However, as the Romantic era approached, the tide turned dramatically. The 18th-century poet and critic John Dryden, while earlier voicing some reservations, ultimately declared ''“I admire [Jonson], but I love Shakespeare,”'' and noted that Shakespeare ''“was naturally learned… he looked inwards, and found [nature] there.”''. This remark is particularly salient – Dryden acknowledges Shakespeare’s inward-turning creative process, which is exactly what we identify as Shakespeare’s introspective, perhaps autistic, method (generating knowledge from interior reflection rather than formal study). By the late 1700s and early 1800s, Shakespeare was enshrined as the supreme genius of English literature. The Romantics (Coleridge, Hazlitt, etc.) basically deified him as a transcendent mind who broke rules but achieved a higher truth of art. This “natural genius” narrative, while elevating Shakespeare’s status, also abstracted him into a sort of disembodied intellect or bardic spirit. It fit the Romantic agenda to portray him as an untamed imagination beyond mundane constraints. But notably, they praised exactly those facets that align with autistic cognition: his ''originality, creativity, and the sense that his works were produced by a mind following its own pathways rather than convention''.

Through the Victorian era and into the 20th century, Shakespeare’s critical reputation only grew. He became the ultimate literary touchstone; to criticize Shakespeare was heresy. George Bernard Shaw famously quipped about needing to “dethrone” Shakespeare, but even Shaw admired aspects of his work. By mid-20th century, Shakespeare studies were a massive academic field, and psychological readings proliferated (Freudian, Jungian, etc.), each finding deep human truths in the plays. Yet, until very recently, there was little to no mainstream acknowledgment that Shakespeare might be approached as a case of neurodivergent creativity. The '''suppression of neurodivergence''' in his critical reception has been the norm. Traditional scholars treated Shakespeare as a unique genius who somehow contained all of humanity (“Shakespeare’s universality”), thereby sidestepping analysis of his personal cognitive traits. There was a sense that giving him a clinical label would diminish the mystique. In the 21st century, however, new perspectives are being cautiously explored. Disability studies and neurodiversity scholars have started examining Shakespeare through the lens of autism and other conditions, not to diminish him but to enrich our understanding of his works and creative process. Dr. Sonya Freeman Loftis, for instance, while stopping short of saying “Shakespeare was autistic,” discusses how his characters and themes resonate strongly with autistic experiences and how autistic readers and actors find personal meaning in Shakespeare’s text. This reflects a broader cultural shift: rather than idolizing Shakespeare as a quasi-divine “universal man” (which ironically erases his individuality), we are beginning to appreciate him as ''a particular person with a particular mind'' who achieved universal impact. It’s a reframing that acknowledges both the person and the legacy.

In conclusion, Shakespeare’s critical reputation has evolved from modest respect to overwhelming veneration, and now to a point where that veneration is being analyzed and deconstructed to reveal the man behind it. The autistic lens adds an important chapter to this evolution. It offers explanations for his genius that were long ignored: his autodidactic learning as the source of his knowledge, his narrow interests fueling his themes, his social aloofness coloring his portrayals of isolation, his linguistic playfulness arising from a differently wired brain. As this perspective gains traction, it does not reduce Shakespeare’s greatness – if anything, it makes it more tangible. The “wondrous miracle” of Shakespeare becomes a real human mind – one with extraordinary focus, creativity, and yes, quirks – rather than an inscrutable gift from the heavens. And as our understanding grows, the critical narrative moves from blind adoration to informed appreciation. We can finally celebrate Shakespeare ''as an autistic artist'', and see the tremendous legacy of his works as not just a cultural phenomenon but as the outpouring of neurodivergent brilliance at its finest.