The Collected Stories (New Directions Paperbook)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This gathering of all Dylan Thomas's stories, ranging chronologically from the dark, almost surrealistic tales of Thomas's youth to such gloriously rumbustious celebrations of life as A Child's Christmas in Wales and Adventures in the Skin Trade, charts the progress of "The Rimbaud of Cwmdonkin Drive" toward his mastery of the comic idiom.
Here, too, are stories originally written for radio and television and, in a short appendix, the schoolboy pieces first published in the Swansea Grammar School Magazine. A highpoint of the collection is Thomas's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog, a vivid collage of memories from his Swansea childhood that combines the lyricism of his poetry with the sparkle and sly humor of Under Milk Wood. Also here is the fiction from Quite Early One Morning, a collection planned by Thomas shortly before his death.
Altogether there are more than forty stories, providing a rich and varied literary feast and showing Dylan Thomas in all his intriguing variety-somber fantasist, joyous word-spinner, comedian of smalltown Wales. The book includes an entertaining, informative reflection on Thomas by another Welsh poet and storyteller, Leslie Norris, as well as a brief listing of publication details by Professor Walford Davies, editor of Dylan Thomas: Early Prose Works.
gliding boy around him. Light and without will as a suit of feathers, he held on to their arms, and the umbrella rode above them like a bird. Cold and unsmiling, Mrs. Dacey skipped by his side, seeing nothing through her misted glasses. And George Ring sang as he bounced, with his drenched hair rising and falling in level waves, ‘Here we go gathering nuts and may, Donald and Mrs. Dacey and George and Sam.’ When they stopped, outside the Antelope, Mr. Allingham leaned against the wall and
river drew a new shape close to them. An island shape walled round with darkness a half-mile up river. Stealthily Beth Rib and Reuben tiptoed to the lapping water. They saw the shape grow, unlocked their fingers, took off their summer clothes, and, naked, raced into the river. Up river, up river, she whispered. Up river, he said. They floated down river as a current tugged at their legs, but they fought off the current and swam towards the still growing island. Then mud rose from the bed of
down the path, and shouted at the top of her voice: ‘I’ll teach you to lie to Edith! You pig! you black! I’ll teach you to break her heart!’ He shielded his face from her blows as he staggered back. ‘Patricia, Patricia, don’t hit me! There’s people!’ As Arnold fell, two women with umbrellas up peered through the whirling snow from behind a bush. Patricia stood over him. ‘You lied to her and you’d lie to me,’ she said. ‘Get up, Arnold Matthews!’ He rose and set his muffler straight and wiped
before I begin, this isn’t a love story. But they decided to get married, and John William Hughes gave his consent because Mary’s uncle was one of the most respected men in the country and her father had money and it would come to her when he died and he was doing his best. ‘They were to be married quietly in London. Everything was arranged. Mr. Phillips wasn’t invited. Mary had her trousseau. Dr. Lloyd was to give her away. Beatrice and Betti William Hughes were bridesmaids. Mary went up to
in town this morning?’ I said. Ray stared at his hand. Nothing could stop him now. ‘Wasn’t it gay in town this morning? Everybody laughing and smiling in their summer outfits. The kids were playing and everybody was happy; they almost had the band out. I used to hold my father down on the bed when he had fits. I had to change the sheets twice a day for my brother, there was blood on everything. I watched him getting thinner and thinner; in the end you could lift him up with one hand. And his