Writing her memoirs seven years after her husband"s death, Anne Hathaway reminisces about her now-famous husband, recalling in particular that week in April, 1594, when the still-struggling poet and playwright invited her to London to celebrate his thirtieth birthday, and what happened to her in a certain strange bed in his lodgings above a fishmonger"s shop. In telling that story, and any others, she casts a brilliant new light on Shakespeare-a very close look at the master by one who shared his bed but never bothered to read him. This is a riot of scholarship and bawdy writing.