A quirky satirical comedy from 1954 by one of the twentieth century's most prolific, influential and versatile writers. The world's greatest composer, Stannsen of Norroland has completed his Tenth Symphony and to coincide with the official visit of Norroland's President to Britain he has offered the honour of its world premiere to the English Broadcasting Company Symphony Orchestra, and its outlandish and moderately-talented principal conductor, Sir Lancelot Telly. The Royal Festival Hall is booked, Royalty is invited, there is a heatwave of publicity, but there is a huge problem: Stannsen's score includes a part for a seven-foot-high instrument called the Dobbophone, invented and played by his former best friend Dobb. The two men have fallen out and Stannsen hopes his symphony will reconcile them. Dobb refuses to participate and without him there can be no performance. There is panic and dismay at the E.B.C., not least for Sir Lancelot who sees his chance of fame slipping away from him. Enter the beautiful Inga Dobb, niece of the instrument's inventor and goddaughter of Stannsen who will attempt to break the deadlock between the two men and reunite them as friends. Will she succeed Will the performance go ahead Will Sir Lancelot conduct this great symphony Demonstrating Priestley's love of music along with his playfulness and versatility as a writer, this zany and at times anarchic romp satirises the contemporary world of broadcast media, its avant-garde playwrights and poets, its philistine administrators and its inane panel games and their too receptive audiences. As our national broadcaster comes in for ever increasing scrutiny, this is very much a novel for today.
John Boynton Priestley was an English writer. He was the son of a schoolmaster, and after schooling he worked for a time in the local wool trade. Following the outbreak of the Great War in 1914, Priestley joined the British Army, and was sent to France - in 1915 taking part in the Battle of Loos. After being wounded in 1917 Priestley returned to England for six months; then, after going back to the Western Front he suffered the consequences of a German gas attack, and, treated at Rouen, he was declared unfit for active service and was transferred to the Entertainers Section of the British Army.
When Priestley left the army he studied at Cambridge University, where he completed a degree in Modern History and Political Science. Subsequently he found work as theatre reviewer with the Daily News, and also contributed to the Spectator, the Challenge and Nineteenth Century. His earliest books included The English Comic Characters (1925), The English Novel (1927), and English Humour (1928). His breakthrough came with the immensely popular novel The Good Companions, published in 1929, and Angel Pavement followed in 1930. He emerged, too, as a successful dramatist with such plays as Dangerous Corner (1932), Time and the Conways (1937), When We Are Married (1938) and An Inspector Calls (1947). The publication of English Journey in 1934 emphasised Priestley's concern for social problems and the welfare of ordinary people. During the Second World War Priestley became a popular and influential broadcaster with his famous Postscripts that followed the nine o'clock news BBC Radio on Sunday evenings. Starting on 5th June 1940, Priestley built up such a following that after a few months it was estimated that around 40 per cent of the adult population in Britain was listening to the programme. Some members of the Conservative Party, including Winston Churchill, expressed concern that Priestley might be expressing left-wing views on the programme, and, to his dismay, Priestley was dropped after his talk on 20th October 1940. After the war Priestley continued his writing, and his work invariably provoked thought, and his views were always expressed in his blunt Yorkshire style. His prolific output continued right up to his final years, and to the end he remained the great literary all-rounder. His favourite among his books was for many years the novel Bright Day, though he later said he had come to prefer The Image Men. It should not be overlooked that Priestley was an outstanding essayist, and many of his short pieces best capture his passions and his great talent and his mastery of the English language. He set a fine example for any would-be author.
So far I've read this novel once and I don't think I will read it again anytime soon. I think if I would have to pick two words to describe it, I'd say it was somewhat amusing. It's neither terribly funny, or terribly bad. It's just somewhat amusing.
Don't get me wrong, I liked reading it. The depictions of pirate radio and musicians are quite interesting, some of it is even funny. The reference to Norroland left me scratching my head for a while, but that's another story. Basically it worked to a degree as a comic novel, at least well enough for me to read it to the end and enjoy it.
What it doesn't have is anything really exciting to make me go there again. It's called a frolic and that is a nice way to describe it, but I'm afraid that in the long run it's not going to be very memorable.
This is described as a "frolic" on the cover and in that respect it is rather like Priestley's earlier novels "Adam in Mooonshine" and "I'll tell you everything." When the book starts it looks as if it's going to be a charming satire of the BBC in the mid 1950's, the hero attempting to get a unique musical instrument with a very low register, the Dobophone, for a new musical work, however the main plot soon seems to be forgotten and much of the book is taken up with a long and fairly irrelevant, but still amusing, section about a pirate radio station. All in all enjoyable but no great shakes.
A 1954 comic novella satirising BBC radio music programming, among other things. The world's greatest living composer, Stannsen, has completed his Tenth Symphony, whose score requires unbelievably low notes from an instrument invented by his former best friend. But the two men have fallen out… A fast, frivolous read, beautifully written, with some wonderful characters, it had me smiling a lot and once laughing aloud. Not great literature, but great fun by an enviable wordsmith.
Funny enough but all rather pointless. I presume Priestley had a bit of an axe to grind with the BBC at the time. Can’t say his manifesto is one I’d choose to follow.
A very minor satire - I suppose it would have been funny at the time to a musician familiar with British radio broadcasting of the era, much of the humor isn't funny any more. The only good part is near the end where a character gives a description of the horrible service he has received in hotels.
A relic of the time when having a beard meant you were artistic and / or eccentric , a few years before it meant you were a radical or a hippie. Barely worth reading even if you are a Priestly fan.
Entertaining period piece with plenty of whimsical waspishness and what could be called 'hijinks'. Some mid-century misogyny courtesy of the lukewarm romance plot. I think this book would be incredibly dull for anyone not already interested in 1950s London and the BBC.
Described as a folic, and having a laught at the BBC and broadcasting it is really one of Priestley's lesser books --amusing, but as an attempt at satire it rather falls short.