[From My Archives]* On Shaw, or How a Dead Playwright Transformed My Adolescence and Altered My Life

When I set out to do this essay, I realized that writing about George Bernard Shaw would be rather like writing about my first (real) love: a little daunting, a little dangerous and, ultimately, mostly about me, for we tend to see ourselves reflected in others as steadfastly as we implant ourselves firmly in what we read. Continue reading