John Feathers' Rights in Copies to Copyright

 

John Feathers' Rights in Copies to Copyright summarizes early developments of copyright in relation to authors. As his title suggests, Feathers walks readers briefly through the immediate aftermath of print technology and its consequences, namely those concerning the legal regulation of text. Early regulation, according to Feather, occurred as early as 1563 as patents were awarded to texts, enabling authors a period of exclusive rights to print texts. Not surprisingly, early regulation had less to do with some abstract notion of rewarding creativity and more to do with the State's access (read: ability to censor) to text and knowledge production and distribution. The state charged the freemen of the Company of Stationers of London with this task, and in return the Stationers gained exclusive access and control over English publishing. In short, copyright has always been a political act, rooted in the regulation of knowledge and a monopolistic financial model. The government and media companies joined together to regulate media consumption. I suspect this sounds familiar to a contemporary audience.

Feather's analysis continues, again echoing familiar trends. The ownership of media, and more specifically the rights to copy, distribute, and own media, were restricted to members of the Stationers' Company. Media were indeed highly profitable commodities that were closely monitored via registration, fines, and permissions.  Again, these developments and beginnings sound familiar to a current context in which media industry partners with government to control distribution, censor via categorization, and regulate ways in which consumers interact with media. 

While Feather only means to provide an overview on the early developments of rights in copies, we need more if we are to interrogate authorship. For instance, Feather helpfully examines copyright in terms of Elizabethan and Jacobean drama. He admits to generalizing that "plays were written by authors working on commission for theatrical companies," (203) and explores the connections between playwrights, production companies, and publishers, yet we miss an exciting opportunity to inquire about intellectual property as it existed prior to entry in the Stationers' Register. After all, Shakespeare's authorship and originality have been called into question, and perhaps rightly so. He was, after all, much more akin to a remix artist than a purely original, muse-inspired god-author.

Shakespeare used Holinshed’s Chronicles in many of his works, also including King Lear. The story of King Lear is discussed in a number of 16^th century writings, including a 1559 collection of tales titled The Mirror for Magistrates and Edmund Spenser’s 1590 work, The Faerie Queen (Mabillard). Shakespeare also drew heavily from The Moste Famous Chronicle historye of Leire King of England and his Three Daughters, first performed in 1594 and first published in 1605 by stationer Simon Stafford (Well, Taylor, & Jowett 509). We could also direct our attention to Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare drew from several sources which should sound familiar: Arthur Brooke’s The Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Iuliet (1562), Matteo Bandello’s Giulietta e Romeo (1554), Luigi Da Porto’s Historia Novellamente Ritrovata di Due Nobili Amanti or  A Story Newly Found of two Noble Lovers (1530). This list could be expanded to include all of Shakespeare's work and its almost universally derivative nature. 

This detour into Shakespeare leads to my discussion questions:

If a text is "born" when registered, when copied into official protection, when does authorship take place? When is the author born?

Feather observes that the rise of the author into a growing class was "possible only because the products of their pens commanded a market price, and that in turn was possible only because the commodity was protected against unfair competition" (209). What is "unfair competition?" Where does Shakespeare fit into this definition/framework? 

In a similar vein, Feather indicates that eventually, a realization took place that valued the uniqueness of copies, creators, and rights to print (208). Does praise of this realization seem indicative of an allegiance to Romantic notions of authorship and self? Why/why not?