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Under Milk Wood. A play for voices

"We are not Wholly bad or good, who live Our Lives Under Milk Wood"

Llareggub, the fictional village where you set the radio play Under Milk Wood contains the prefix Llan-(which means church), which occurs in many place names in Wales, but we are almost certain that the invention of Thomas born in reality upside down from a reading of the phrase "bugger all", or meaningless , of no value. In the first editions appeared, instead of the original name, the censored Llaregyb.
Which real place instead is based Llareggub there is clear, and this has generated an intense debate that even today the town where Dylan lived and wrote his works, and therefore may have inspired, in particular Laugharne and New Quay, vie for the leadership to attract many tourists. From stay in Laugharne may have originated portraits of bizarre characters who populate Llareggub, while the topography of the village could be based on New Quay. Thomas drew in his hand a real map of Llareggub, which belongs to the collection of manuscripts from the National Library of Wales . There is a whole topography thomasiana that really is the background and a link not only to this but most of the stories, and is that of Valley Jarvis, an imaginary place in Wales from the reality that faces takes , voices, colors, the folklore of his native land of Thomas. And while the stories and use names like CAED Peak Llareggub. It would be be a mistake to look obsessively drawing a realistic landscape in his work, to anchor each place described to a real place: the landscape of Thomas is primarily figurative, mental, symbolic.
The inspiration for writing Under Milk Wood came almost by chance, walking in the early morning, and the rapid hatching of places and characters, what will be the nucleus of Under Milk Wood, came together in a short story. Taken up and developed at a later time with the significant title "The Town That Was mad, that core intent of Thomas was to describe the conflict " between the eccentric strength of their individuality and freedom, sacrifice and healthy all to some notion of conformity. " Expand short so the short choral frescoes of his childhood or the life of a Welsh village for any broadcast radio since '45, as Quite Early One Morning or Return Journey.
What is certain is that in September of '53 Thomas had finished writing Under Milk Wood and sent the BBC, before leaving for the United States. I read a part, for the first time in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but died before the work was recorded and broadcast by the BBC, two months after his death, January 25, 1954. However, the radio version is probably the most famous of 1963, in which the narrator is the same as a Welsh actor Thomas, Richard Burton .
Under Milk Wood can be considered the work with which Thomas became after his death, so to speak, "public" is more familiar to many readers of his stories and even poems. Interesting comments from Giorgio Melchiori, that remind us of the importance of sound and voice in Thomas "In fact, Under Milk Wood is not a verse drama, but it seems rather an attempt fully successful, to bring the mass of audience taste and sound sense of the English language (albeit with Welsh accent), the importance of the rhythm of discourse, and the charge of hypnotic words themselves, to regardless of their meaning. " comments that could apply to the whole work of Thomas, at his own poetic language.
In 1972 a film version was made from all-star cast, including interpreters, in addition to Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Peter O ' O'Toole, Glynis Johns, Vivien Merchant.
In November 2003 the BBC broadcast a new production of Under Milk Wood on the 50th anniversary of the death of Thomas, where he returns, along with contemporary actors, the voice of Richard Burton , retrieved and updated with digital technology from the original recordings. Alison Hindell, a producer of BBC Wales, he realized that the voice was linked to double wire to the fame and receiving radio play, so she tells the Telegraph that year: "When I first approached the BBC with the idea of \u200b\u200ba new version of the play THEY SAID 'thanks but no thanks'. They Said That They Were Rather fond of the Burton version Because, after all, what is Under Milk Wood without Richard Burton? I thought about that for a while after wards and said: 'Fine. If We Can not Have a production without Richard Burton we will have one with him '. " We know that Thomas and his work had a great influence on the life of the plaintiff, and that the two were great friends and drinking buddies memorable.
When Burton died of a brain haemorrhage in 1984, was buried with a copy dei Collected Poems .

Rotronic Logistics 12.02.1086

The hunchback in the park

The hunchback in the park

A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark

   Eating bread from a newspaper                                          
   Drinking water fro    m the chained cup 
 That the children filled with gravel 
 In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship 
 Slept at night in a dog kennel 
 But nobody chained  him up. 
  
 Like the park birds he came early 
 Like the water he sat down 
 And Mister they called Hey Mister 
 The truant boys from the town 
 Running when he had heard them clearly 
 On out of sound 
  
 Past lake and rocke    ry 
 Laughing when he shook his paper 
 Hunchbacked in mockery 
 Through the loud zoo of the willow groves 
 Dodging the park keeper 
 With his stick that picked up leaves. 
  
 And the old dog sleeper 
 Alone between nurses and swans 
 While the boys among willows 
 Made the tigers jump out of their eyes 
 To roar on the roc    kery stones 
 And the groves were blue with sailors 
  
 Made all day until  bell time 
 A woman figure without fault 
 Straight as a young elm 
 Straight and tall from his crooked bones 
 That she might stand in the night 
 After the locks and chains 
  
 All night in the unmade park 
 After the railings and shrubberies 
 The birds the grass the trees the lake 
 And the wild boys innocent as strawberries 
 Had followed the hunchback 
 To his kennel in the dark.     
    
    
    

Il gobbetto del parco

The hunchback in the park,
a lonely ladies
propped between trees and water
opening the padlock
that water and trees makes enter
until dark in the evening bell Sunday

ate bread from a newspaper,
drank water from the chained cup
that the children filled with gravel
in the basin of the fountain where my boat set sail
slept at night in a shelter
but no one chained.

Like the birds in the park early,
as water sedentary
hey Lord and the Lord called
schoolchildren wandering
running away when they had heard
out of earshot

Over the pond and artificial reefs,
humpbacks in jest, laughing
agitated when the newspaper, inside the zoo noisy
grove of willows, escaping
the warden of the park with his stick
which gathered the leaves.

And the good dog lonely
dozing between nurses and swans
while boys among willows
throwing tigers eyes
to roar on the rocks and thickets
were blue with sailors.

All day until the bell
a perfect figure of a woman,
tall and straight as a young elm,
his bones twisted created,
that could stay the night,
after the padlocks and chains,

all night in the park unmade
after the bars and patches of shrubs
birds the grass the trees, the pond
and boys innocent as strawberries
had followed the hunchback
to his kennel in the dark.

(Trad A. Marianne)

The nucelo of this poem appears in already, on March 9, 1932, in Notebooks ; is then applied and updated by Thomas in July 1941, and will be published for the first time in October of that year in "Life and letters to-day", XXXI, 50. Finally appears in the collection "Deaths and Entrances." The park is the Cwmdonkin Park in Swansea where Dylan played as a child and which is also the backdrop to a tale of Portrait of the artist as a young dog. Thomas describes it at length in Quite early one morning , volume which collects the conversations he held with the BBC.

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I "Notebooks"

Dylan Thomas wrote, and in some cases published in magazines, his first stories between April 1931 and the end of 1933, even before the release of " 18 Poems "would put the attention of the general public as a poet. The last story appeared in 1953, just months before his death. It appears therefore that the prose covers the whole range of poetic production, although it has attracted the attention of critics always so marginal compared to the poems and has been seen as complementary to them, rarely features its own independent value.

Particularly significant are the works of Thomas contained in " Notebooks" on the drafting will be completed in October 1934 when Thomas was only twenty. The first four books, written between April 1930 and April 1934, later collected and published by Ralph Maud in 1967 in the United States, contain more than 200 poems, or three quarters of poetic production of Dylan Thomas. A fifth book is called "Red Notebook ", as cataloged by the Lockwood Memorial Library where today is located at the State University of New York at Buffalo : a notebook from the red cover and pages numbered in pencil by the same Thomas, which contains ten stories, all published in later collections. While the distinction between the four books of poetry and prose of the fifth book demonstrates how Thomas held separate the two activities, the other an analysis of the stories often reveals close similarities with the poems of little earlier. But the importance of the "Notebooks" is also significant from a formal point of view: the additions, deletions, all that is part of a long and painful process of review is typical of Thomas, reveal, through comparison with the published version, the methods and the evolution of his writing, according Donald Tritschler, "the (Red) Notebook Itself Is Most Interesting work as a book" . The works contained in "Notebooks", therefore, not only will be subject to continuous correction and almost obsessive, but Thomas will be the tank that will draw constantly, being the result of which will equal more prolific over the next twenty years.

Suddenly, in 1941, Thomas decided to sell them, pressed by economic needs. The price of this drastic cut with the early work is huge, and so the biographer says Fitzgibbon :

He sold Them to Bertamè Rota, the dealer in rare books and manuscripts, and Eventually They Found Their Way to the Lockwood Memorial Library in Buffalo [...] Those Were His youth notebooks, notebooks Those Were His poems, notebooks Those Were the young poet Dylan [...] That quarry Which Had he created in His own feverish, fertile youth was closed To Him forever. The boy-poet, the Rimbaud of Cwmdonkin Drive , has Ceased to exist.

Considering also the relatively short span of his life and, consequently, of his literary activity, it is not uncommon to find records in "Notebooks", or references in the numerous letters, which testify to the coexistence, in the design of securities , images, characters, destined to come together now in the poem, now in prose. We do not know if in some cases the same idea has developed into a poem or a story told in an almost completely independent, or whether it was for Thomas a conscious process, however, recognize the existence of these links between poetry and short stories serves to refute the hypothesis that the production of prose should be considered only in light of the poetic and subordinate to it. On the contrary, in relation to it and with equal value in the discovery of the narrative Thomas.

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New Quay (III)

All County Ceredigion, Mid Wales coastal area dotted with fishing villages, was a source of inspiration for Thomas, who lived here in the '40s, particularly New Quay . This town seems to have modeled the fictional Llareggub , where you set the radio play "Under Milk Wood", and its inhabitants think they can recognize many of the curious characters who populate it. (nb the name of the village is to be read in reverse: "bugger all", insignificant detail that reveals once again the strong taste of Thomas for language games, the sound quality of words, basically, it was poetry.)

On the official website of the area of \u200b\u200bCeredigion is even a detailed route, the " Dylan Thomas Trail," which allows you to explore New Quay and the surrounding areas in the footsteps of the author, fun to look among the places and faces of the characteristic local people, the suggestions that allowed Thomas to compose one of his masterpieces.
seem so to cross a fabulous place, out of time, where the pubs, the barber, the postman, the candy store, bring us back to elements of its "Under Milk Wood", or that other fresco of provincial life which is the collection " Winesburg, Ohio " by Sherwood Anderson , a microcosm of the seemingly insignificant ( Llareggub, in fact) but really scored in aspects of private passions and obsessions confessed.

A New Quay is still Black Lion, the pub favorite Dylan (to his wife Caitlin think it was instead the Dolau), where there is a collection of photos and memorabilia related to the poet. Across the street, in Gomer House, Polly lived Captain Tom, the real Captain Cat In
but became increasingly visible part Majoda , the house where Dylan and Caitlin lived from 1944 to '45, and shortly afterwards the home of friends and William Killick Vera Phillips, the singer who was the poet's lover before getting married and where Dylan and Caitlin had lived in Talsarn in 1941.
E 'own New Quay in fact one of the main places where it was filmed on the life of Thomas, "The Edge of Love " (2008).

During his stay in New Quay Dylan Thomas also wrote dramas "Quite Early One Morning" and "Memories of Christmas" and the poems "Vision and Prayer," "Holy Spring", "Poem in October", "Fern Hill" and "A Refusal to Mourn the Death by Fire of a Child in London".

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Laugharne (II)

In 1938 Dylan and Caitlin , who have just married, they moved to Laugharne ( ready. " Laarni ") in Camartenshire . In fact, the first visit by Thomas in what will become the city with him more symbolically linked, if only because here he wrote most of his works, dating back to 1934, when he called as "the strangest town in Wales . The house would become the first home of Dylan and Caitlin was called Eros , and was in Gosport Street. It was small, but perfect for the couple, who quickly became an object of curiosity on the part of the bizarre residents of Laugharne . Paul Ferris , the biographer of Thomas , born as he Swansea, tells us that " neighbors peeked through the curtains to catch glimpses of young Mrs. Thomas in a flowing purple housecoat , or watch her husband , who was thought to be a writer of some kind , trotting down the hill to fetch water from the public tap, dressed in pajamas and an overcoat .

Three months later, the Thomas moving into more spacious, although more modest, " Sea View " like baptizing the same Dylan, a country house near the sea. Ca itlin becomes pregnant, while Dylan working on his collection of poems The Map of L ov and in 1939, in fact, released the book, and the couple's first child was born, Llewelyn . But the pressing economic difficulties and the desire for greater stability leads them in May 1940, to leave Laugharne.

We will be back in 1949, with the help of Margaret Taylor, wife of the historian AJP Taylor, who bought for them the famous " Boat House " for 3,000 pounds . Thomas loved it, and began to write, day and night, in the next years cap overlooking the estuary of the River Taf now re s tructure and destination for many tours. It was in fact grav LY damaged by fire after the death of SCRi ttore and it is believed that the fire is not destroyed some of his unpublished works.

There is also more in Laugharne Brown's Hotel, a pub where Thomas spent frequent his days. Hung on the walls are some photos that remind us, and there is still room in the bottom of the table where he usually sat.

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Wales by Dylan Thomas: Swansea (I)

"One: I am a Welshman; two: I am a drunkard; three: I am a lover of the human race, Especially of Women." (First: I am a Welshman, and second: I am a drunkard; third: I am a lover of humanity, especially women ). This was the description that Thomas liked to do himself.

And Dylan was born in Wales, Swansea. It 's always in Wales, particularly in Laugharne, in Camartenshire, Dylan Thomas, he moved in 1938 after his marriage to Caitlin. We will settle again after a stay in London, Chelsea and Italy, and will buy the "Boat House", where to write one of his masterpieces, the radio drama Under Milk Wood. E 'in Laugharne, which is always finally buried in the church of St. Marti n, in that land from which he had felt the need to run away because every time, to get back in search of his inspiration more authentic.

Dylan Thomas remains as the most famous and celebrated poet of Wales, a land of deeply assimilated in the Celtic tradition which are permeated his works, though his parents never wanted to teach or to read or write in Welsh.
was born at 5 Cwmdonkin Drive, Swansea , October 27, 1914, and always had a conflictual relationship with his city, he described as "the ugly, lovely town" . In 1934, feel the need to take some distance, and moved to London. He will return specific sso, but no longer settle there permanently; as he wrote to his friend Bert Trick after the birth of her first son Llewelyn, "never again will I fit into Swansea know quite happily and comfortably as I did for I'll be a hundred jokes and personal Progressions behind all my friends" . In 1936 he left the chair at Swansea Grammar School and the following year with his mother decided to sell the house Cwmdonkin Drive where he grew up.
In Swansea famous for being the birthplace of Thomas, now you can visit the Dylan Thomas Centre, scene of many events, as the annual Dylan Th omas F estival , held between October and November. The center has a room dedicated to the life and work of the author, and contains manuscripts, early newspaper articles and some archival footage. There are also a restaurant in the cultural center and library. Thomas is also entitled to the square whose center stands a bronze statue of the poet, and the adjacent theater, the Dylan Thomas Theatre . E 'instead destroyed in the bombings of World War II Kardomah Cafe where Thomas liked to meet with the young intellectuals who attended the time (became known as the Gang Kardomah), while you can still attend some pubs which he loved as the Uplands Tavern . In Cwmdonkin Pa rk near his childhood home, and a source of inspiration for many works, including the famous poem The hunchback in the park , is from 1963 , the tenth anniversary of his death, a plaque with verses from Fern Hill.

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"I am a poet in a pub" The diaries

(from the Republic of Sunday - September 14, 2008, page 44)

"I think poets are treated well enough: no one hits them with a whip, can walk the streets safely. The 'only problem is that a bad poet is treated as a good one. Spender I think should be kicked in his headquarters, once a week, regularly and formally. And Day-Lewis should be in the audience booed and beaten on the testicles with a soft hammer. After all, there 'is something comic in the' be a poet. We should be treated with more audacity. I would not receive money as a poet but as a man, who hunger & thirst, a poet does not want meat and drinks, just the paper. God helps those who have not the stomach, but only vowels and consonants. What could happen in the event of a strike by poets? I'd stand to make the peg into the room where scribbles (George) Barker and hit him with a truncheon for each half-rhyme. "If we do not pay three pounds ten a week will not write more damned other poems." This will ensure that the dogs barking. We should reach an agreement with the critics, at least fifty percent of what they receive for every article written about us. Feel the noise of Mr. Leavis! Yet Day-Lewis, who goes hunting for mice in London Mercury! The monkeys on strike! Cross your arms and stop producing in Bloomsbury! (A bankrupt Grigson offers twenty-five per cent) (A Henry Treece, March 23, 1938)

'm terribly busy with a new poem, and I just borrowed this typewriter to beat the 'interminable Canary, which God will make him change the feathers, and help at home, mend and breaking things, and I think that if I am not careful and lucky the guys from the Government sent me to manufacture ammunition. I want to find a real job and avoid it. Punch, turning a screw, a drive wheel, do something with a gear lunch in the cafeteria, every German soldier in a cartridge case means least, be blessed all the sergeants ups and downs, all are blessed, cursed be all the evenings in the recreation center of the building, pool and hot chocolate, then the bugs in the furnished room and then punch and run and operate and strike up a hammer to help kill another stranger, oh poor me, I'd rather be a poet in any time and live on guile and beer ... (A Clement Davenport April 4, 1941, during the war)

Thanks for a poet in a pub. Titles that you guys invented! I have thirty years, thirty-one. Speaking of my father, I do not think he used the words' was the best player Shakespeare of his day '... I'm not surprised - absolutely right - if people compare me to a modern Villon. But the 'no surprise it would not be caused by the fact that I represent, somehow, a kind of modern Villon, but because I'm used to listen to bullshit. Roughly, they are as much a modern Villon - incidentally, I can not read French - as a modern Joanna Southcott, a modern Raleigh, Artemus Ward, or a Luther. All 'asylum of Mrs. Hole was neither with Dan Jones, with Fred Janes (n not m), whom I met later. To say that often fill maybe a hundred sheets for the construction of a poem is true. But I only said that often fill more than one hundred sheets with drafts, revisions, rewrites, ramblings, doodles and work of extreme concentration to build one way. And do not say it's something to be proud of or be ashamed of. I do not consider some ways better because it took weeks, and half reams, to complete. It 's just that I work very slowly, extreme fatigue, isolation. Finally, as a "profile", his admirable article should have, I think, that I have, however briefly, as on other aspects of this jumble of characters, fluctuating and precarious; aspects, I admit, that you, the most could have a limited direct knowledge: The melancholy of my basic attacks and deep dark depression reflection; ugly moods; plant coma, protracted silences and disappearances, the terror of death, 'height, the strokes, the rats, shyness and clumsiness, repetitive, trivializing, pompous periods of boredom and zoticaggine that reach the bottom; ill' s soul, doubts of consciousness, dizziness, and my all-encompassing ignorance, my petty bourgeois values \u200b\u200bare still only partially suppressed and forgotten, all my agonizing extravagance; all my indolence, and all my stories! I enclose the 'article, many thanks. That guy looks at this point! Thank God I do not see myself in society, are not forced to listen to my stories, either, except when - reluctantly - I shave, I've never had to look in the mirror that ball red and swollen body mounted on a balloon, until that provincial shabby 'soul, that hack, that hake drunk who now devotes himself, forever yours. (Al journalist C. Gordon Glover, who had sent the draft of an article on him first to propose it to regular Band Wagon, May 25, 1948)
Translated by Francesca Pratesi

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Caitlin

We now note the tempestuous marriage of Thomas, marked by dependence on alcohol and continuous betrayals (mutual, it seems) lasted until the premature death of the poet, at age 39. We also know a story according to which the wife of Thomas, Caitlin Macnamara , shouted at the bedside of her husband's dying "Is the bloody man dead yet?" (not yet dead, the bastard?)

But surely the lucky buyer of the journal Caitlin, went at auction in May 2008, will be aware of, often conflicting, aspects of married life Thomas, and will be surprised to read some words written by the wife of the poet has disappeared: "Oh God, oh Dylan, it must be cold down there, it is cold enough on top, in November: The Dirtiest month of the year That you killed on the ninth vile day. If Only I Could take you a bowl of your bread, and milk, and salt, That you always drank at night, to warm you up. " (Oh God, oh Dylan, it must be cold down there, it is quite cold here too above, in November, the dirtiest month of the year that killed you in its ninth day coward. If only I could take your bowl with bread, milk and salt, which always takes at night to warm you up.)

The diary is part of a private collection belonging to a New Yorker, was auctioned for 250,000 pounds from the London antiquarian bookseller Rick Gekoski , which states: "It was a tumultuous marriage, of That there is no doubt, But what this collection has is Both Sides of it. It is very raw and emotional. Sometimes she says 'Oh my God, I wish I'd never married him' and at other times she wishes she Was With Him in the grave giving HIM a cuddle. " (It 's been a tumultuous marriage, there is no doubt about this, but this collection shows both sides. It' s very raw and emotional. Sometimes writes 'Oh God, I wish he had never married' and other times would be in his tomb to be able to embrace)